by J. W. Vohs
“It’s not ‘Mrs.’ anymore, Grant, and I’ve told you to call me Carolyn since you’ll be starting high school in the fall. You’re well on your way to becoming an adult, you know.” She turned her attention to the handsome coach and batted her eyelash extensions. “And you are?”
“Robbie Peterson. I’m surprised I didn’t meet you two at registration. Grant here’s been doing a heck of a job. Over half of our kids didn’t show up today, and one of our junior coaches was a no-show too. Grant helped out with the juniors—he’s got real talent.” He flashed a perfect smile at Carolyn before continuing, “Now Alec has a lot of heart; we just need to see how it all plays out when he finally hits his growth spurt. He’s fast and he’s got a good eye—we tried him out at goalie today and he’s better than our regular guys.”
“Goalie?” Carolyn sounded genuinely concerned. “Goalies are crazy. Everybody knows that. Goalies and drummers. My ex was a drummer.”
Robbie grinned, “And my ex left me for a goalie, but I don’t hold that against the position.”
Katie’s phone buzzed with a text from Tracy. “Excuse me,” she offered as she backed away from the conversation. She was starting to feel like a third-wheel and was grateful for the distraction. She read the text.
Hurry up.
How typical, Tracy wouldn’t come in but was tired of waiting in the car. Katie rolled her eyes and texted back, “Don’t be impatient—you can always come in.”
No. U don’t get it. We need to get home. Not safe.
Katie understood her daughter’s penchant for drama, but her mother’s intuition told her to take Tracy’s warning seriously. She texted back, “K. We’ll b out as soon as Grant returns from locker room.” She rejoined the adults to let them know that she needed to be on her way, but she was quickly drawn in to their dialogue.
“. . . staying home. It’s all over the news; I guess D.C. is a real mess.” Robbie noticed Katie and asked, “Everything OK? You look a little distracted.”
“We just need to get going as soon as Grant gets back. What were you saying about D.C.?” The uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach was threatening to become full blown nausea.
“Don’t you ever watch the news?” Carolyn knew very well that Katie did not watch the news—she said she found it too depressing. “Never mind, there’s just some weird outbreak in the states, like an epidemic. People are freaked out, and I guess there has even been some rioting in Washington. Robbie says our government is scheduled to make a statement in about half an hour. You probably won’t be able to get home in time to see the whole thing.” Turning back to Robbie, she explained, “They live on the island.”
Katie tried to keep her growing anxiety at bay by forcing idle conversation. “We run a bed and breakfast in Little Current. My husband used to be an engineer, but he gave it up to become a fishing guide. He’s never been happier. He is very involved with local issues; he’s on the town council . . .” She hadn’t had a full blown panic attack in years, but she recognized the tightening in her chest as a warning bell. “Robbie, do you mind going after Grant for me? You can tell him to meet us in the car . . . Who is that? Is he drunk?” A man was shuffling towards them from the direction of the closed snack bar area. He was making a strange moaning sound.
Connor Schrock’s mother had been sitting on the bleachers, talking real estate through the headset that seemed to be permanently attached above her ear. Just as Katie noticed the suspicious character, Melinda Schrock snatched up her briefcase and intercepted the staggering stranger. “Are you ill? Are you drunk? This community center is no place for—“ Her voice was abruptly cut off when the man lunged forward and sank his teeth deep into Melinda Schrock’s neck. Two enthusiastic bites later, her head was nearly severed from her body and blood was splattered throughout the dining area.
Carolyn screamed, and Robbie grabbed a hockey stick and ran directly at the creature. As he approached, there was no mistaking this thing for a normal human. Its eyes were coal black, it was missing most of its nose, and it had a huge hole through its midsection. It seemed almost content as it tore chunks of flesh from the former real estate agent and swallowed them ravenously. Robbie wielded the hockey stick like a medieval sword, smashing the monster’s head with a single, well-placed strike.
Katie called out, “There are two more coming out of the concession stand!” She quickly scanned the arena. A family with three kids was literally running out the back door. One of the younger coaches was collecting the handful of junior level players who’d shown up for practice. Grant, Alec, and Connor were just emerging from the locker room, with Alec in full goalie gear, minus the skates. “Carolyn, get to the boys—don’t let Connor see his mother! Go lock yourselves in my car with Tracy. I’ll be right behind you.”
Carolyn didn’t move. She was staring at what remained of Melinda Schrock. Katie wasn’t sure what to do, but she quickly decided that a sharp slap across Carolyn’s face couldn’t make the situation any worse. “Snap out of it!” She smacked Carolyn hard enough to knock her slightly off balance. Out of the corner of her eye, Katie saw Robbie’s stick swinging like lightning. A second later, the sound, akin to a watermelon spattering on concrete, let her know that at least one of the attackers had been neutralized. Then Carolyn was crying, but she seemed to have registered Katie’s instructions.
Unfortunately, the boys had headed toward the commotion, and when they saw Robbie bloodied and battling a moaning lunatic, they grabbed their sticks and ran to join the fight. The goalie gear slowed Alec down, and his mother was almost able to grab him as he sprinted by. Carolyn shouted, “Boys stop!” If they heard her, they ignored the order.
Robbie had better luck. He barked, “Get back,” and the boys instantly froze in place.
Alec was about ten feet behind the other two, and he was closer to the washroom doors. Just as Robbie dispatched what he thought was the final assailant, another freak stumbled into the commons. This one came from the men’s room, and it was missing an arm and dragging one leg as dead weight. It had the same black eyes as the others, but Katie had a terrible thought as she watched it lurch toward Alec. Evidently, Alec had the same thought. “Dad?” his voice was shaky, but the boy stood his ground. “Dad, we need to get you to a doctor.”
The creature formerly known as Boomer Easterday moaned and stumbled forward. Robbie literally leapt over a café table, but he wasn’t quick enough to prevent the monster from falling on Alec. The boy screamed as he felt something latch on to his forearm. Fortunately, the goalie glove prevented teeth from penetrating flesh. Robbie raised his stick to knock the creature away from its victim, but Carolyn beat him to the punch. The limp body rolled off of Alec, a steel blade runner protruding from its left eye.
“That thing is not your father,” Carolyn gently told her son. Then she added, to no one in particular, “But if it was he got exactly what he deserved.”
“Sirens,” Grant pointed out. “Help is on the way.”
“We need to check on your sister; she’s locked in the car.” Katie looked at the carnage around her. “Grant, Connor, I need you to come with me. Bring your sticks in case there are any more of those things around; then stay with Tracy until we talk to the police. Keep all of your gear on, too, even the helmets. Looks like it’s the best protection we’ve got right now. Let’s go. Stay close.”
The parking lot was nearly empty, but there were a lot of cars on the road. When Tracy saw the shell-shocked group emerge from the community center she rushed to unlock the doors to the SUV. “Mom, it’s crazy. I’ve been watching the news . . .”
“I know, sweetie. Connor, Grant, get in and lock the doors.”
“Hey, there’s my mom’s car.” Connor squinted at the vehicle. “She’s not in there. Have you seen her?”
The police pulled up before Katie had a chance to answer. “I’ll ask around. I better go talk to the officers now. Lock these doors.”
“What’s going on here?” Katie closed the door on Tracy’s
question, but she figured the boys would explain as best they could. She didn’t know how to explain it herself. She took two steps toward the building when shots rang out. Katie instinctively dropped to the ground. Robbie, Carolyn, and Alec emerged from the front door.
Carolyn called over to Katie, “We’re heading for your place. We need to get out of Espanola, and Robbie’s a Haweater too. I’ll explain when we get to the island.” They ignored the gunfire and piled into Carolyn’s car. Katie climbed back into her own vehicle and revved the engine.
“What about my mom?” Connor was visibly upset.
“Use Tracy’s phone. If she doesn’t pick up leave her a message. Say you are coming to our place and that I’ll make sure you stay safe.”
* * *
It was normally a 45 minute drive from Espanola to Manitoulin Island’s Little Current Bridge. Even with a few weeks until the official start of summer, tourist season was off to a good start this year. Katie expected the traffic to be more congested than usual, but she had never seen so many people on the roads. She hoped that most of the travelers weren’t headed her way. Even at peak season, the island’s population only reached about fifteen or sixteen thousand, which sounded like a lot until you remembered that Manitoulin Island is the largest island on a lake in the entire world. About twelve thousand people called it home year round—sturdy, industrious, creative people who understood that they inhabited a little piece of Canadian paradise. Or Anishnabek paradise. Or both.
It took almost half an hour to travel the first ten kilometers, but after that Highway 6 south was flowing fairly well. The single- lane swing bridge to the island was usually a lesson in patience, and Katie prayed that they would be blessed with fortunate timing and miss the hourly swing for the boats. She normally would not talk on the phone while driving, but she needed to speak to her husband. Chances were about 50/50 that he’d answer—Walleye and Northern Pike season was just getting started, and he was known to “forget” his phone. To her surprise, he answered on the first ring.
“Katie, where are you?”
“On the road back from Espanola. Do you know what’s going on?”
“About what? Are you talking about the zombie virus all over the news?”
“The what?”
“Yeah, it’s ridiculous, I know. Larry and Al told me all about it. Those guys are taking it pretty seriously though; they wouldn’t even go out on the lake today. Both of them are at home preparing their rifles and hunting gear. Zombie season, I suppose.”
Katie lowered her voice and almost whispered into the phone, “Michael, did you say zombie virus?”
“I think we have a bad connection, babe. I can barely hear you.”
“Meet me at home. I’m bringing some guests. There was a . . a . . an incident at the rink. I can’t go into it right now, but find out everything you can about what Larry and Al were talking about.”
Michael tried not to sound condescending, but he wasn’t particularly successful, “Anything else, dear?”
Katie was quiet for a moment, then replied, “Load the guns.”
* * *
It took Katie nearly two, nerve-wracking hours to reach her driveway, closely followed by Carolyn’s car as they pulled around back to park by the private entrance. The bed and breakfast already had six guests spread over three of the available seven rooms, and the rest of the older part of the house had been converted into a large parlor, guest breakfast room (which actually served breakfast and lunch, though only breakfast was free to the overnight patrons), a spacious commercial kitchen, and a small apartment. The original guest house had been remodeled into a modern, two-story, family home, and, from the window next to the front door, Katie could see her husband hunched over his computer.
“Come on, everyone. Let’s get inside and try to figure out what’s going on.”
Michael was lost in concentration, and he was momentarily startled as his wife, children, and a few other people burst into the living room. He made eye contact with his wife, and she knew instantly that the fear she saw was not the result of their abrupt and surprising entrance. “I’m glad you’re finally home,” he said evenly.” He quickly noticed the strange man with Carolyn and Alec Easterday. “Good God, man. What happened to you?”
Robbie Peterson was carrying a hockey stick, and both he and the stick were covered in dried blood and gore. “I’d shake your hand, sir, but I don’t think that’s particularly appealing right now. We met when you registered Grant for the clinic. I’m Robbie, Robbie Peterson. You said you saw me play when I was with the IHL.”
“He saved our lives,” Grant said with more than a touch of admiration in his voice. “These crazy people attacked us, and they weren’t like regular people either, and they—“
“We’ll tell your dad everything, don’t worry, but right now I suspect Coach Peterson would like a shower and some clean clothes.” Katie was picturing Connor’s mother, or what was left of her, back at the community center. She shuddered. “Tracy, would you take him to our washroom, your dad’s and mine, and get some of your dad’s clothes out for him?”
“I really appreciate it,” Robbie interjected. “But please call me Robbie. When grown-ups call me Coach Peterson I think they’re talking to my dad.”
“Come on, Robbie.” Tracy emphasized his name to demonstrate her self-proclaimed maturity. “I’ll get you some of Dad’s workout clothes. Those are pretty much one size fits all, probably so you don’t have to buy new clothes when you build up a bunch of muscle.”
Robbie smiled, again showing off his dazzling teeth. “Sounds good to me. Lead the way, young lady.”
As they disappeared down the hallway, Connor spoke up, “I never got ahold of my mom. I left her three messages. I gave Tracy back her phone in the car.”
Katie felt her stomach tighten into a knot. “What about your father?”
The boy shook his head. “He’s in Toronto. We don’t talk much.”
“He’s your dad; you should try to get in touch with him if your Mom isn’t picking up.” Michael offered his phone to Connor. “Do you know the number?”
Carolyn interrupted, “Honey, we need to tell you something.”
“Not now . . .” Katie hissed.
“Do you think waiting is going to make it any easier? It’s not.” Carolyn looked at Connor, “Sit down honey.”
“What’s going on?” Michael asked, though he thought he had a pretty good idea about where this was headed.
Connor stared at the floor as he walked to the couch. He sat down without looking at anyone. “Just tell me,” he whispered.
Katie stared at Carolyn. You tell him, she thought. You tell him that his mother had her throat ripped out and was eaten by some crazed, half-human lunatic.
Carolyn sat down next to Connor. “There’s no easy way to put this, so I’m just going to say it. Your mother is dead. One of those monsters killed her. I saw it happen.” She glanced up at Katie. “I don’t think anyone else but Robbie and I saw, but she died quick—too quick for there to have been any pain. It killed her before anyone knew what was going on, but after what he saw, Robbie rushed in and killed the murderer, and then he had to fight off more of them. You saw them. You know. The one thing I want you to concentrate on right now is the fact that your mother’s death is the reason we’re alive. If she’d had a choice, that’s the one she would have made. Now you have to live your life for the both of you; that’s a lot of responsibility for someone your age, but you owe that to your mother. We all owe her our lives.”
Tears were streaming down Connor’s cheeks, but he nodded vigorously. Katie wiped at her own eyes and noticed that Grant, Alec, and Michael were crying as well. Only Carolyn kept her composure.
When Connor could finally speak, he looked to Carolyn. “What should I do? I don’t even know my dad’s phone number.”
Carolyn’s voice was tender as she stroked Connor’s hair. “Alec and Grant can help you. I bet five minutes with Mr. Carboni’s computer and the
y’ll have your dad’s phone number, along with all the personal information you never wanted to know about the guy.”
“Use the laptop in the office—it’s faster.” Michael offered gently. “Carolyn, Katie, I’d like to hear about what the hell happened in Espanola.”
Grant led Alec and Connor to his parents’ office, and Michael waited until the boys were out of earshot. “Before you say anything, I want to show you something.” He opened the lid on the computer he’d been so engrossed in earlier, and a few clicks later he turned the screen around to face the women. Katie gasped. Groups of shuffling, dark-eyed people—it was difficult not to think of them as people—were lurching through the streets of what looked like Washington D.C.. The scene changed to some type of riot, and even with the sound turned down Katie thought she could hear the screams of a woman pulled into a mob and enveloped by dozens of . . . zombies?
Carolyn turned away, “We saw those things in Espanola. One of them killed Connor’s mom. There were four of them, that we know of, at the community center. Jesus, what are they?”
Michael ran his hands over his nearly bald head. “Depends on whom you believe. Internet videos are being posted from all over—Toronto was the closest I saw. Unofficially people are calling it a zombie virus. Officially it’s just a virus. The U.S. appears to have outbreaks in all the major cities according to what people are uploading, but the president said, wait, let me get this right, ‘Reports that we are seeing the beginning of a nation-wide epidemic are completely unfounded.’ He claims it’s been contained to D.C., but there’s a reason Americans don’t trust their politicians.”
Katie felt weak, “What did the Prime Minister say? I heard he was supposed to speak after the president’s address.”
“He released a statement. Basically he gave lip service to the president and claimed that a few American soldiers brought some kind of deadly infection back from Afghanistan. He said the U.S. is working to keep it contained in their Capitol, and offered our assistance if needed. He also said, as a precaution, that we’re beefing up border security and restricting entrance into Canada by both air and land.”