Zombie Crusade Snapshots: Volume I

by J. W. Vohs

  Carolyn laughed. “All three thousand miles of our border with the United States? Anyway, it’s already here, right? You said you saw reports from Toronto, and we had that charming encounter in Espanola.”

  Michael looked at Katie. “Tell me about what happened at the rink.”

  “It was pretty much like what Carolyn said, except I saw Connor’s mom get attacked. We thought it was a drunk at first, but then it just lunged at her and ripped open her throat. It was actually eating her. Robbie grabbed a hockey stick and attacked it before a couple more came out of the concession stand. He was fighting off those two when another came out of the men’s washroom.” Katie stopped, uncertain what to say about what happened next.

  Carolyn picked up the story. “The boys had just come out of the locker room. The last one attacked Alec. Thank goodness for spare blades and extra jerseys—I used the jersey to protect my hand.”

  “Thank God for the goalie gloves he still had on too,” Katie interrupted. She then explained to her husband, “The creature bit Alec in the forearm but his teeth couldn’t get through the gloves.”

  Michael was incredulous. First he just shook his head as he digested the information about Alec being bitten, then he considered the fact that Carolyn, the pretty, semi air-headed Carolyn, had actually killed one of the infected people. “You stabbed one of them?”

  “It was just a mother’s instincts,” she replied. “That and I imagined it was my ex.” She winked at Katie, who was once again rendered speechless. “Robbie is the real hero. He didn’t hesitate to jump in and defend us. He killed three of them with a hockey stick, and it was his idea to rendezvous here. I must admit I feel safer on the island than in town.”

  “That makes sense. Personally, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere with a lot of people, and I especially wouldn’t want to be in the states.” Michael sighed. “We have a lot of friends and family out there, and I’m just going to pray that we all make it through this somehow. Whatever those soldiers contracted in Afghanistan, if that is even true, seems to be spreading like wildfire in North America. I still don’t know how the virus made it up here to our little corner of the world so quickly.”

  “Oh my God,” Katie sputtered, “aren’t some of our guests from the states?”

  Michael reassured his wife, “I wouldn’t worry about that—it’s a big country and our guests are from Michigan, Arizona, and Florida. I spoke with them all earlier, and they’re as freaked out as anybody else. The Michigan folks were packing when I left. They want to get home to their family. The couples from Arizona and Florida are quite a bit older and planning on sitting tight for a while. I told them they were welcome to stay here as long as they want. Mrs. Jorgenson is pretty worked up, but she said she’s been our manager and lived in that house for over a decade—she’s not going anywhere.”

  “What about your family in Ohio, Michael? Uncle Jim and Aunt Trudy? And your cousin?”

  “Uncle Jim’s a prepper; he’ll be fine. Christy lives with her boyfriend. I think they’re both in the same law firm, but they’re still in Cleveland. I’m sure they’re smart enough to take care of themselves.” Michael’s voice turned hard. “We need to concentrate on taking care of ourselves right now.”

  “You’re absolutely right,” Robbie agreed as he joined them. “If I were you I’d start by controlling the access to information around here. Tracy’s friends have some pretty weird ideas, and they’re sharing photos over the phone. The boys are watching videos right now—it’s not my place to tell you how to handle your kids, but it looks like all hell is breaking loose in the world. The best defense is a good offense, and I think we need to take control of this situation before it takes control of us. We don’t need these kids panicking or sending out too much information to the wrong people.”

  Katie wasn’t sure what Robbie meant about the wrong people, but she was clear about one thing—taking charge of the teenagers. “I’ll handle the kids,” she said. “From now on no unsupervised phones or Internet. We’ll get a message out for Connor’s dad, then the kids can help me make dinner and check up on our guests.” She hesitated, “Michael, are the hunting guns loaded?”

  “Loaded and locked in the safe. Except the rifle under the couch.”

  “Good.” Katie smiled at her husband. “I’ll keep the kids busy while you all figure out how to keep us safe from the zombie virus.” She was glad for a task that made her feel useful, and working at helping the kids stay occupied offered the possibility of keeping her own mind off of the nightmarish ordeal that had already begun to turn her peaceful existence into a real-life horror movie.

  Michael’s clothes were a snug fit on Robbie; the pants were too short, the T-shirt strained across his chest, and his feet hung over the edges of an old pair of flip-flops. Still, Carolyn was completely honest when she observed, “You look 100% better.”

  “I feel 100% better. I just left my bloody clothes in the tub; I wasn’t sure what to do with them.” He looked slightly embarrassed. “I only live about 25 minutes from here. I guess I shouldn’t have left my car back in Espanola.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Michael countered, “though you do look a bit ridiculous.” He grinned and slapped Robbie on the back. “You saved my family. You can have one of my damn cars. Hell you can have all three of them, but right now I’d like to try to persuade you to stick around for a while. Do you have family nearby?”

  Robbie shook his head. “Nope, just me. I mean, I’ve got a sister in Alberta, but nobody around here. I inherited my parent’s place; if not for that I’d probably be homeless or crashing with friends. My ex liked the high life, and all I got out of that marriage was a pile of debt.” He looked over at Carolyn. “What about you? You and Alec gonna hang around here?”

  “God, yes, if they’ll have us. It’s good for Alec to be around some friends, and Connor . . . “ her voice trailed off, and she willed herself not to cry. She was afraid that if she started to cry now she might never stop.

  “Well, then it’s settled. We have several vacant rooms. Mrs. Jorgenson lives downstairs, but you can have your pick of the other rooms.” Michael reached down and pulled a well-worn but cared for Remington 660 from under the couch. He handed it to Robbie. “You know how to use one of these?”

  “Of course,” Robbie answered. “Do I look like a vegetarian to you?”

  In spite of the surreal situation he was in, Michael roared with laughter. He handed Robbie a box of ammo and explained, “This fine piece of equipment is a .308. It’ll hold one in the chamber and four in the magazine. The scope is new, and I had open sights attached that are dead-on; you can see them through the scope-rings if you need to use them. Got any questions?”

  Robbie ran his hand over the old rifle for a moment before asking, “Anything on the net about how to destroy the . . . the . . . creatures? I sure as hell understand why some people are calling them zombies. The first one, the one that killed Connor’s mom, was missing part of its face and had a huge hole through its gut. Honest to God, it should have been dead.”

  Michael leaned forward. “So how did you kill it?”

  “I smashed its head, and the heads of the others at the rink.”

  “I think I did read a couple posts claiming that the only way to stop them is to destroy their brains. That just seemed like alarmist zombie bullshit, so I didn’t take it seriously.” Michael picked up the laptop and started a new search. “Let’s see what we can find.”

  Robbie held up his hand. “Before you do that, can I borrow your computer for a minute? A good buddy of mine is an OPP inspector assigned here on the island. I couldn’t get through to the detachment when I tried to call after my shower; I’d like to send him an email. I bet everybody is trying to use their cell phones now, so probably the overload has crashed the system.”

  Michael handed over the laptop. “I’m not thinking straight. We should have made contacting the police a priority the minute you got here. We’ve still got a land line.”

&
nbsp; Carolyn rested her hand on Robbie’s arm. “Who’s your friend?” she asked.

  “Eli Tessier. We grew up together.” He looked at Michael. “Write down your home phone number and I’ll tell Eli to call me here.”

  Carolyn smiled. “Any relation to Corey Tessier?”

  Robbie raised his eyebrows as he typed his message. “You know Constable Corey?”

  “Honey, any red-blooded female within a thousand kilometers knows Constable Corey.”

  “He always was too pretty for his own good. Yeah, Corey is Eli’s little brother. I think he’s stationed around here somewhere too, but I haven’t kept track of him.”

  Robbie hit “send” and returned the computer to Michael who resumed his search for news about how to stop the infected. “It may just be my imagination, but this connection seems to be slower than ever,” Michael observed. “I hope we hear from your friend soon.”

  Inspector Tessier called back three minutes after Robbie sent the message. The two friends spent over twenty minutes exchanging information, then Eli asked to speak with Michael. When Robbie handed over the phone he was visibly shaken, which made Michael extremely apprehensive about what the officer had to share. As a member of the town council, Michael had a reputation for his understanding of technical issues and low-key leadership, but his experience with the OPP was limited to regulatory concerns. As far as Eli knew, Northeastern Manitoulin and the Islands (the municipality known as NEMI) had yet to experience any cases of the infection, and he was hopeful that the former engineer would be able to convince the council to declare a state of emergency before it was too late.

  While Eli updated Michael about the official and unofficial information that was pouring in to the police, Robbie filled Carolyn in on the disturbing regional developments. Espanola wasn’t the only city in the area to report incidents of zombie-like attacks. Sudbury and Sturgeon Falls had dealt with a few isolated cases of “domestic disputes” that were, in reality, infected individuals cannibalizing their families. It was shocking and traumatic for the officers called to the scenes, but most people in those communities were still unaware that the infection dominating the American media had struck so close to their homes. Toronto was a different story.

  With a population of over two and a half million people, cosmopolitan Toronto was one of the largest cities in North America. Local news outlets had been featuring quarantined areas of the city, and one TV station managed to capture a group of about a dozen infected individuals shuffling through the streets as a field reporter was trying to get a live statement from a staff sergeant at the scene. When the bizarre mob pulled an elderly woman from her car and began to rip her apart, the sergeant ordered all journalists to clear the area as the police opened fire. In spite of the order, the cameras kept running long enough to document the ineffectiveness of traditional gunfire against the crazed cannibals. Several creatures turned their attention to the officers firing on them, and with haunting moans they lurched toward the police, mostly unfazed as their limbs flew off or holes were blasted through their chests. The staff sergeant’s voice could be heard shouting, “Hit ‘em in the head!” right before the camera shut down.

  Roads and bridges out of Toronto were congested with people trying to flee the city, and unconfirmed reports of attacks on the roadways were beginning to filter in to the various police detachments. Eli had told Robbie that the virus was spreading like wildfire, and that time was of the essence if they were to keep Manitoulin Island from being caught up in the unfolding epidemic. All the local authorities—the OPP, First Nation’s UCCM and Wikwemikong police services—were coordinating their efforts to seek out and contain any possible outbreaks of infection. The northeastern section of Manitoulin Island, a peninsula mostly surrounded by water, remained unceded Indian territory known as Wikwemikong—Wiki by the locals. A few thousand individuals, Anishnabek people (formed by an historical alliance between the Odawa, Ojibway, and Pottawatomi nations), lived on the reserve, under aboriginal First Nation governance. Eli reported that even though the reserve was a popular tourist destination, there had been no reports of infection, or even suspicions of infection, in Wiki.

  Still, given the circumstances, all the island’s hospitals were on high alert and staffed accordingly. The most reliable information so far indicated that the virus was spread much like rabies—through a bite from an infected animal. The fact that the animal in this case was human went ominously unspoken. Inspector Tessier wanted Michael to call an emergency meeting of the town council to address short-term and long-term procedures concerning the swing-bridge, ferries, boat traffic, airport protocol, and general safety precautions for all residents. Eli and Robbie both agreed that local authorities needed to establish self-sufficiency and should not try to rely on national or provincial governments for crisis management—at least not initially.

  Michael looked grim as he hung up the phone. “Since the mayor resigned a couple weeks ago, the deputy mayor, Marge Hathaway, has been filling in. Right now, she can’t be located. I know she was going to her niece’s wedding in Toronto this week.” He sighed and pushed back his non-existent hair. “The council can appoint a new mayor if necessary, but right now we just need to get some plans in place for dealing with this outbreak. I’m going house-to-house to try to pick up the council members—you two want to come along?”

  Carolyn smiled demurely and replied, “You two go.” She reached over and picked up the gun next to Robbie. “Just leave me this. You can grab something else from your arsenal to take with you. I’ll hold down the fort here until you boys get back.”

  * * *

  During the next few days, the situation went from bad to worse as panic spread around the globe. The town council appointed Michael acting mayor. The approximately 3000 residents of NEMI pulled together to patrol the nearly 500 square kilometers of the municipality, offering information and assistance as needed. Local police, volunteer fire departments, sea cadets who’d been training on Georgian Bay, and regular citizens were organized into teams and assigned to specific areas. People were free to come and go, and many residents brought in family members to ride out the pandemic on the island, but all new arrivals were to be given a basic medical screening to make certain that they had no potentially infected wounds. Anyone with evidence of any wounds whatsoever was to be quarantined until released by a medical professional. Of course, at first not everyone observed the check points for arriving friends and family, but once the community lost a young mother and her children to the infection compliance was no longer an issue. The woman ate her infant entirely, but the twin six-year-olds lasted long enough to become child zombies and attack their grandparents. The children, their mother, and the grandparents were all put down with shots to the head by a relative who then committed suicide. After that tragedy, no one argued with the established protocol.

  Within ten days national television had stopped broadcasting, and the internet had somehow been shut down; some types of cell phones worked intermittently, but power grids all over North America were collapsing. Travel to and from Little Current was restricted after a straw poll of residents overwhelmingly demonstrated support for tighter controls. Less popular measures, such as rationing of gas and other supplies, led to some conflicts, and residents of the island were beginning to divide themselves into factions. Still, Michael knew he was luckier than most people on the planet. Before phone service was lost, he’d spoken to his Uncle Jim in Ohio. Cleveland was in chaos, and it seemed safe to assume that the rest of the United States was descending into the same situation. Jim was a suburban “prepper,” and he had some pretty well thought-out plans to survive for the next few months. His only child, Christy, had just arrived with her boyfriend, and evidently someone they knew had come up with a manual of sorts about dealing with the infected. It boiled down to wearing protective gear and destroying their brains. Michael had intended to keep in touch with his uncle, but he couldn’t reach him again after their initial conversation. Nevertheless, Mi
chael did take to wearing a leather coat and gloves, briar-resistant hunting pants stuffed into thick leather boots, and carrying a new-style goalie’s mask in a small backpack. He also attached a huge Bowie knife and a long-handled construction hammer to his belt. Unsurprisingly, many people in town, including his own family, began to outfit themselves in a similar manner once they realized the potential value of Michael’s “uniform.”

  Robbie Peterson had proven to be a godsend. He stayed at the Carboni’s bed and breakfast for three reasons: to be close to Carolyn Easterday, as a parental stand-in for Connor Schrock, and to help Michael navigate his new position as mayor-in-crisis. While Michael was excellent at maintaining his cool and fleshing out every pertinent detail in a comprehensive containment plan, he was not equipped to deal with the concrete problem of what to do with the quarantined people who succumbed to the virus. There were only a handful of them, but their very presence posed a danger to the island. Some doctors proposed trying to get blood samples or otherwise study the creatures, but Michael was more concerned about short-term safety than the obscure potential benefits of a risky research project. Family members of the victims were divided about what they thought should be done, instigating further tension. Robbie listened to Michael explain the dilemma, then began gearing up for a visit to the hospital’s isolation unit. The families had only been allowed to see their relatives once after the victims had transformed into black-eyed flesh eaters, so Robbie calmly explained how Michael would inform the families that their diseased relatives would not eat any of the food supplied to them and had starved to death. He said that the medical staff shouldn’t need too much convincing to go along with the story, but anyone not on board with the plan could report to Inspector Tessier for further briefing. Michael didn’t ask how Robbie planned to exterminate the infected, and after it was done they never spoke of it.