by Chase McCown
He didn’t dare look out the window.
He went back to the stairwell and crept carefully back to the ground level.
The man who had tried to attack him was still wandering around, but Jacob was able to sneak past him and make his way to his car. As he neared his own car, he approached the SUV that the officer and the infected had crashed onto. The officer had been killed by the impact, and the force of his body had caved in the roof of the car. The infected that had fallen with the officer, however, was nowhere to be seen. A sinking feeling came over Jacob as he realized the thing must have survived the drop.
He went back to his own car, started it up, and drove home.
He called 911 to report the whole incident. They thanked him for the information and assured him they would send officers to investigate right away.
“You know, I don’t think I want to be a journalist after all,” he said to himself.
He had trouble sleeping for the next several days after that.
Chapter 9
May 2nd, 2025. Hollywood, California.
Jacob sat behind a dumpster outside of his apartment complex. The heat compounded by the rancid odor of sunbaked and rotten garbage made Jacob woozy, and he had to summon all his willpower to keep from becoming nauseous. He tried his best to clear his head and focus on the task at hand.
“Okay now, let’s see here. I have my keys. My phone’s in my back pocket, but I still can’t get any reception on it and the battery’s almost dead, so I don’t know what good it’ll do me. I have water, canned food, and the first aid kit. I think that’s everything. Regardless, it’s too late to go back now.”
Jacob adjusted the steak knife he carried in his hand, tightening his grip on the handle. He glanced carefully over his shoulder at the two infected who had been prowling the parking lot all morning. One of them peered into his car, and the other was twitching furiously and pacing to and fro, mumbling to itself.
He thought he could make out some of what it said, although most of it was incoherent.
“Has to be here…said he was staying here… Where…? C… c… can’t…find…”
The creature suddenly turned its head to the sky and raised its voice to a shout. “JAY-cob… JAY-cob? Looking for you…”
Jacob’s hair stood on end, and his body shuddered at the sound.
Dad, what happened to you? Jacob thought to himself.
Jacob looked back at his knife.
His nerves were shot, and his hands trembled almost uncontrollably with anticipation of what was to come.
Okay, deep breaths. You can do this. Let’s just get it over with. Three… Two… One… Go!
He bolted out toward the car, shouting and gesturing menacingly—at least, he tried to be menacing—by flailing his arms around.
The monsters spun around to face him, wide-eyed with saliva dripping from their gaping maws. They looked puzzled at first, apparently wondering what on earth this madman was up to.
They began to back away slowly, but after the initial shock of his charge, they quickly became curious. They began a slow but determined walk toward him, which, in turn, caught him off guard. He had hoped they would flee, but they stood their ground.
Jacob decided not to turn away.
He had to make it to the car. That was all that was important right now. If he could make it to the car, he could drive off, and he would be safe.
He decided to head for his father and steer clear of the infected stranger. Somehow, even though this thing was a shell of his real father, he was comforted by the fact that it resembled his father, and it did seem to at least remember his name.
He got within arm’s reach of it and grabbed onto the monster by its shoulders. At first, it growled at him, but then it looked at him in surprise.
“JAY-cob?”
Both paused for only a moment until the other infected man whom Jacob had forgotten about grabbed him from behind. The thing that had once been his father growled and shook its head. Any trace of humanity that had once dwelled in it shattered.
Jacob wrenched himself free, only to see the stranger lunging after him. It was upon him quickly, but as it reared its head back for a bite, he jabbed his knife into the thing’s temple with all his might. The knife slid through easily, and a sickening fluid oozed out of the wound. Its eyes grew dark, and Jacob let go of his knife as it fell with the creature to the concrete.
Jacob gagged in disgust. He’d never even killed an animal, much less a person—if you could call these things people. He had little time for these thoughts, though.
The infected that had once been his father clawed at him, but Jacob pushed it out of the way and shut himself inside his car.
He looked down at the knife jutting out of the skull of the infected stranger. He hated to leave the weapon behind, but he wasn’t about to go back and get it now. He just hoped he wouldn’t need it later.
He turned his attention back to the remaining infected—his father.
He locked the door and cranked the engine, which only sputtered and spat at first.
The monster outside clawed at the window, struggling with the handle to open the door and get at Jacob. Soon, Jacob thought, it would break through the glass.
He tried to crank the engine once more, but again it failed.
“Come on, please, please crank. Please, please, please, please…”
He tried once more, and the engine purred to life.
“Yes!”
He put the car in drive and sped off.
He hoped to never see his father again, not like that, although, seeing that glimpse of emotion and feeling in his eyes when he first saw Jacob told him that deep down that thing was still his father. There was some small measure of comfort in that.
Chapter 10
May 3rd, 2025. Seattle, Washington.
Charlie woke up, rubbed his face, and peered out the window of his apartment. The streets were lined with cars, all deserted and some aflame. Sirens blared in the distance. Occasionally, a terrified shriek pierced the damp night air. Vague shapes shambled about among the cars, which Charlie took to be the victims of the infection that he had heard about on TV. At least, he had heard about them before the grid went down. There wasn’t much he could do now except crank his emergency radio until his arm was sore and fall asleep from both exhaustion and depression. Then, he’d wake up and repeat the cycle, occasionally taking a break to eat what little food he had left, cutting the moldy edges from slices of American cheese whose date had long since expired, and eating it on stale saltine crackers.
Why me? he groaned and shook his head. Why did this happen to me? I wish I would just wake up, just wake up and find this was all a horrible nightmare. He sighed and considered his options. Well, I could stay here. I have enough food to last me maybe a week if I ration it carefully. I don’t think it would last much longer than that, though. I could always go out and look for more food. There have to be some supplies left in the supermarket. But that place is crawling with the infected. Starving to death was not high on his priority list, but neither was being torn apart by whatever it was that was moving below.
He watched as a single drop of perspiration fell from his face to the floor below. Bumps appeared on his arms, and his hair stood on end at the thought of leaving the comfort of his apartment. He walked to the door, placed his hand on the cold handle, closed his eyes, and found that he couldn’t leave. Those things were out there, waiting for him. Waiting for any opportunity to attack.
He came to a decision. “I will never leave. You hear me? Never! I would rather starve! You can’t trick me into coming out there!” Charlie bellowed in rage at the darkness outside. He wondered if he bellowed to himself.
A grim smile curled across his face. Charlie looked away from the empty pantry to the flaming cars and frantic survivors outside. He felt like a wise, old fish who refused to take the bait. The question became, would he starve instead?
A loud crash and thud brought him to his sense
s.
Charlie froze, and immense fear crept over him. “I really don’t want to see what made that noise.”
Of course, he had little choice. He slowly turned to investigate and, at first, only noticed that his patio recliner was splintered across his deck. Lying in the wreckage was what appeared to be the corpse of a large man. A tattered sports coat and khaki pants adorned its body, as well as a now broken gold watch.
“Oh man, he must have fallen from one of those balconies. That had to have been at least a two story drop.”
What he saw next sent a shiver down his spine.
It began to move.
A single finger stirred, so slowly that Charlie had trouble deciding whether it had actually moved or if his eyes were only playing tricks on him. Then two fingers, then three, until finally its whole hand began to jitter and twitch with such frequency that there could no longer be any doubt.
It braced its arms against the floor, stood to its feet, and turned to face him.
They both stood there gazing at each other for a few moments, which seemed like an eternity to Charlie.
Its mouth slowly opened, mouthing some words that were lost on him, incomprehensible through the thick glass. Saliva dripped from its gaping maw, and its face was blank and expressionless. Shattered sunglasses hung from its face by a single ear, both lenses broken, and the metal twisted into knots.
Charlie tried to speak, but he couldn’t. This isn’t a man. Not anymore. It’s a monster. I’ve heard the stories. I’ve seen the footage on the news. One day, they were your family or loved ones. Then they changed, their eyes cold, lifeless…
A dull thud cut his thoughts short.
The infected man began to ram its fists into his sliding glass door again and again. A few seconds later, its hands found the handle, and it began to tug mightily.
The door slid open.
Charlie cursed under his breath. “I could’ve sworn I locked that door!”
The beast took one step toward him, then another.
Charlie’s heart skipped a beat, and for one second, all thought left him.
Once he had gathered his wits about him, one word, one idea, one action screamed itself into his consciousness.
RUN!
He ran to the front door of his apartment, opened it, and quickly shut it behind him and leaned against it, trying to give himself time to think.
In his haste, he hardly had time to consider the fact that he had pulled the door open, thus leaning against it provided no additional security.
Okay Charlie, how are we getting out of this? The exit is to my left, down this hallway, and I need to follow it until I hit the stairwell. I think it’s to my left, anyway. Or does the left lead to the lobby? No, I think the lobby is on the other side of the building. Or maybe it was…
He was interrupted as the door swung open inside the apartment, and he tumbled backward.
Charlie instinctively reached his left arm out to stop himself from falling. The force of his fall drove his left hand into something soft but firm. His shoulder drove downward into his left wrist, straining it, and he looked up to find himself staring into the face of death itself.
He saw the bloodstained and torn sports jacket, and knew he had fallen squarely onto the monster’s chest. The infected man’s sunglasses dropped from its ear onto Charlie’s face, and from there onto the floor. It bared its teeth at him in a twisted grin.
“Oh, great.”
He pushed away from it and regained his balance, but as he regained his footing, a white-hot pain shot from his wrist, and he cried out in agony.
A cold, clammy hand and razor-like nails sunk into his shoulder, but Charlie managed to wrench himself free of the monster’s grasp. Dodging another wild swipe, Charlie gave a swift kick to knock the thing over and heard a grotesque crunch from the bones in the creature’s leg as it fell awkwardly off balance. He wasn’t sure whether he felt sick or relieved as he turned to run.
He raced off down the hallway, unsure he was even running toward the parking lot.
The awkward thwump of hobbled footsteps mingled with the crazed howl of the monster echoed after him. Horrible sounds that left no doubt that Charlie’s kick had bought him precious time. He kept going, sprinting as quickly as his legs would carry him, until he came to the staircase.
“Oh no…” Charlie gasped as he peered over the railing at the shambling forms in the stairwell below.
I should have gone the other way…
The bottom of the stairwell swarmed with the infected. They were a disorganized mob, attempting to shove past one another to reach Charlie at the top.
The sound of gunfire rose over the moans echoing from the horde below. On any other day, a gunshot would have terrified Charlie. Today, though, it could have been a cherub’s song.
One of the infected slumped over, and the others turned away from him to face down the threat.
A woman, who appeared to be around forty years of age, glared at them down the barrel of a revolver. She stood fifty feet away and had fired into the mass of infected but was looking up at him.
“Come on! I’m not going to hang around here forever!” she shouted.
Charlie knew this was his chance. He started sprinting down the stairs, but some force caught him from behind.
It fell with him down the stairwell. Together, they tumbled for several seconds before they crashed in a confused tangle at the bottom.
He rubbed his head and opened his eyes to find the thing that had chased him out of his apartment was upon him. He had nearly forgotten all about it when he heard the gunshots.
Charlie struggled to get free, but the sheer weight forcing him down was remarkable. The creature was easily twice his mass and kept him pinned to the ground with little effort.
Mouth agape, it reared its head back, and Charlie braced for the terrible end that seemed inevitable. It was like a rabid animal, saliva dripping from its maw, and Charlie felt any hope for salvation slowly dying as he stared into the creature’s cold, dead eyes.
Then, its temple met with a screaming piece of lead. It reeled away from the force of the shot, falling to the ground at Charlie’s right. Its head was reduced to a crater.
Charlie leaped up and ran toward the woman who had rescued him. He passed the remaining group of creatures, and they gave chase.
Suddenly Charlie found himself in a deadly race to freedom or death.
The woman aimed carefully around him, unloading the remaining rounds as he made it to her side. One of the closest infected collapsed in full sprint and tumbled to a halt just short of them. Another dropped to its knees as a .40 caliber shell tore through its chest.
Together they ran as she frantically reloaded her weapon then passed it to Charlie before reaching into her pockets to ready her keys.
They continued to run as Charlie fired two more shots behind them at the infected, and she took him to her motorcycle. She slid onto the machine easily and gestured for him to follow suit.
Charlie paused.
He had never ridden a motorcycle before. He found them too dangerous and loud for his taste. He thought of the alternative for only a moment before the two sped off together.
In minutes, the infected were long behind them.
*
About an hour later, they were outside of Seattle and coasting along a quiet suburban road. They weren’t driving very fast, since the road wound and twisted in sharp turns.
They passed what had once been a neighborhood but now lay desolate, overwhelmed by the infected. Charlie imagined families talking on the front porches, children playing in the front yards, and neighbors having cookouts together. He remembered his childhood years fondly, even if his parents had never really been there with him like his friend's parents had.
Life had been much simpler, much safer.
Despite the subdued hum of the motorcycle engine, a strange silence blanketed Charlie and the woman. He felt a little ashamed of himself when the woman finally decided sh
e’d had enough of it.
“I never caught your name,” the woman pointed out.
“Charlie, or Chuck, or whatever you prefer. It doesn’t really matter anymore. We’re all going to die anyway.”
“Charlie. Hrmph. My uncle’s name was Charlie,” she replied.
“You didn’t like your uncle?” he asked.
“I never knew him. He died when I was a kid. Served in the Marines. A brave man from what I hear, but I can’t imagine he was very much like you,” she remarked.
“No, I can’t imagine he was.”
Silence reigned once again for a few minutes before Charlie spoke up.
“And your name is?”
“Oh, sorry, it’s Susan. Susan Polke. Pleased to meet you, Charlie.”
“Likewise.”
“So where are you headed, Susan?” Charlie asked.
“DC. I figure it has to be better there than things are here at the very least. If anywhere is safe, that’s probably the place.”
“Hmm, I’ve never been to DC. It sounds like as good a plan as any, though. Mind if I… Uh, I mean, could I tag along? I’m not really sure I want to get caught alone with those…things out there.”
“You mean the creeps? Yeah. No, I don’t mind.”
“Creeps?” Charlie echoed. “Is that what you call them?”
“Mhmm,” Susan affirmed.
“Well, whatever they are, I’d sure like to put as much distance between myself and them as possible.”
“Agreed.”
With that, the two headed out of the suburban area. These roads were more uniform, without the sudden twists and turns of the neighborhoods they had been driving through. As Susan began to accelerate, conversation became harder as the noise from the wind and the engine made it difficult to hear.
*
In the distance, the motorcycle’s headlight illuminated a sign. The word Motel was written in neon lights that had long since gone dark along with everything else in the cities. They decided it would be worth the risk to see if they could find rest there.