The Darkest Days (Death & Decay Book 0.5)

by R. L. Blalock

  With three quick steps, Wyatt was in the holding cell. The creatures were so fixated on Stephen they didn’t even see him approach. He took hold of the woman by one ankle and dragged her backwards. She howled as she was removed from her prey.

  As soon as Stephen was out of her reached, she twisted around towards Wyatt. The writhing creature’s foot was ripped from his grasp. The woman pulled her feet underneath her as he grabbed his gun from its holster.

  The woman’s movements were quick, but clumsy and disoriented. As she leapt, he pulled the trigger. The shot struck her in the thigh and she crumpled to the ground. Almost as quickly as the woman dropped, she began to pick herself up. Without a second thought, Wyatt took aim at the woman’s head, which was no more than a few feet from him, and fired.

  Instantly, he rushed back into the holding cell. Stephen had wrestled his gun out and fired at the man pinning him to the ground. Wyatt slapped his hands over his ears in an ineffective effort to drown out the deafening crack of the gun.

  With his ears still ringing, Wyatt rushed to shove the lifeless man off of Stephen.

  “Are you bit?” he asked as he pulled his friend to his feet.

  “I don’t think so.” Stephen shook his head and immediately bolted for the door.

  They exited the holding cell to find Andrew now struggling with Trevor and another deranged man. The second man had wrapped his fingers around the edge of the door and pulled against it. Andrew fought to keep the door closed as the two fought to pull it open.

  Before Wyatt and Stephen could rush to his aid, the handle slipped from Andrew’s grip and Trevor flung the door open. In an instant, Trevor sprung from the holding cell and latched onto Andrew. The two tumbled to the ground in a tangled mess as Trevor buried his face in Andrew’s neck.

  More shrieks echoed down the halls, and a man burst through the door to the processing room. The man’s left arm was a ragged mess where his wrist should have been. He let out another harsh scream and charged straight for Wyatt.

  Wyatt fired and the man collapsed into a motionless heap. “Get that door closed now!” More of the deranged were dashing down the hall towards the holding cells. A few of the people who were trying to take shelter darted forward to the door.

  Another shot sounded behind him. Wyatt whirled around as Stephen pulled Trevor’s inanimate form off of Andrew. Stephen leaned in as he tried to find any hopeful sign in Andrew’s all too lifeless form.

  “No!” Wyatt jumped forward and seized the collar of Stephen’s uniform.

  “No! No! He needs our help! He’s dying!” Stephen fought back as Wyatt dragged him away from their fallen friend.

  “No, Stephen, he’s dead!” Wyatt hauled Stephen up and looked him square in the eyes. “He’s dead and in a few seconds he’ll wake up again but he won’t be the same person. Do you understand?”

  After a moment, Stephen nodded, his eyes still locked on the red pool that had spread beneath Andrew. “Good, there are people who need us.” Wyatt looked around at the terrified faces, barely a dozen of them. “Get them in the sally port. We’ll figure out what to do after that.”

  “We can’t hold them!” The shout ripped them from their conversation. The door to the processing center wasn’t closed. Three people futilely pushed against the arms and legs caught between the door and the frame.

  All at once, the door exploded inward and a cascade of bodies fell through. The room became overwhelmed with sound. People screamed as the snarling mass began to pick itself up. At the head of the seething crowd, Lieutenant Jamie Carter pulled himself free of the entangled limbs.

  “Get in the sally port! Get to the door!”

  The monsters pulled themselves up and immediately set upon the survivors who were huddled together. Screams resounded through the confined room in an ear-splitting chorus.

  Wyatt opened fire as more of the deranged flooded in through the door, which was now propped open by a pile bodies. With each shot he fired, three more creatures took its place, and he took a small step back.

  “Wyatt, all clear! Double time!” Stephen’s voice rose over the clamor.

  After a few final shots, Wyatt spun on his heel and sprinted for the door. The deranged howled at his back. Stephen held the door open, ready to slam it closed the instant Wyatt crossed the threshold. At the last second, Wyatt threw himself inside and slid like a baseball player trying to reach home base.

  Relief flooded through him as the door clicked shut. A fraction of a second later, a thud resonated through the door. It was followed closely by a dozen more until the sounds blended together in a rhythmic banging.

  Slowly, Wyatt rolled onto his back. The floor was nothing more than dirty concrete, but the coolness of it felt good against his sweat-covered skin.

  After a few moments, Wyatt opened his eyes. What greeted him was empty space. Alarmed, Wyatt pulled himself up in one quick motion, causing the few nearby survivors to step back fearfully.

  “Where is everyone?” He looked around wildly, as if perhaps this was a cruel game of hide-and-seek.

  “This is everyone.” Stephen’s gaze fell to the floor. “None of the others made it.”

  One by one, Wyatt looked over the remaining survivors. Five faces looked back at him. Of the dozens that had entered the station, only a total of six remained. Wyatt staggered against the SWAT car parked in the sally port.

  Six.

  Day 2

  1:06 pm

  For a long time, everyone just sat and stared at each other. No one could believe they were all that was left. Perhaps others had taken sanctuary in other rooms of the station, but they might as well be half a world away.

  “We can’t just sit here forever. We have to do something!” The conversation had been circling along the same lines for hours.

  “We just have to wait for help. It will be here soon enough.” The person who spoke was one of the civilians who had escaped into the sally port with them, Jerry. He was a tall man with an average build. His neatly combed hair had become disheveled. He wore a short-sleeved pale-blue, button-up shirt and nice but inexpensive loafers. Jerry was lanky, as if he had never quite filled out his skin right. A smattering of delicate red flecks marred his meticulous appearance.

  None of them looked very presentable. They all bore some mark of their struggle. Blood. Not their own but they all bore the color. Dirt. The station had been clean but in the fighting they had collected enough of it. Sweat. From fighting and fear. Tears. For the lost. From the fear and uncertainty.

  “How long are we supposed to wait?” Stephen paced back and forth.

  For now, Wyatt was content to let the others hash out their opinions without him. His own thoughts were more than he could handle without responding to the thoughts of others. As he watched, Stephen moved back and forth along the same invisible line.

  What made them so special? While he was grateful to have survived the last twenty-four hours, he couldn’t understand how the two of them had been the only survivors of their department.

  Survivors.

  The word had crossed his mind a number of times when he thought of the huddled masses of people who had filled the station hall. Until a few moments ago, it hadn’t occurred to him that the word also applied to him.

  Survivors.

  Of what? What had actually happened? Those people. The others. Were they mentally ill? It couldn’t be. Mental illness wasn’t contagious. Was it drugs? PCP? That was impossible. They couldn’t all have taken drugs or been unknowingly dosed. Could it be a virus?

  How had they been so lucky to survive?

  All the people they had lost. Their faces paraded through his mind like a macabre slideshow. Ali. Thomas. Jamie. Trevor. Andrew. Those were just the ones he had seen. Other officers had made it back to the station but had not made it inside last night.

  What about all of the civilians? At least a hundred, probably more, had gravitated to the station in search of help. Of those, only forty-seven had made it inside as the deran
ged had descended upon the crowd. Of those forty-seven, only four still stood.

  What about Sarah and Ben? Jerry had graciously loaned Wyatt his cell phone. After three rings, the house phone had gone to voicemail. He had tried Sarah’s cell phone, her parents, his parents, and the neighbors a few houses down the street. No answer.

  “…at least a few days. Someone will come.” Jerry snapped back. This wasn’t the first time tempers had begun to boil over in the conversation. The group of six was evenly divided over their situation.

  “What makes you think that everyone else isn’t in the same boat? Maybe the world is like the rest of us and just trying to keep themselves alive!” A woman, Miranda, huddled with her fifteen-year-old daughter against the wall. Miranda’s long paprika-colored hair had been hastily pulled away from her fair, oval-shaped face into a ponytail. Though the woman was not fat, she would not be considered thin either. “We can’t wait for help that will never come.”

  “Help is coming! It has to be!”

  “Even if help is coming,” Stephen growled, “there are one and a half million people in St. Louis and St. Charles County that are either crazy or need saving. That doesn’t even include any of the surrounding counties that might be affected. It may take them a while to get to everyone. What are we supposed to do in the meantime for food or water?”

  This time the group was silent. That was the only thing they could agree on. The sally port was dishearteningly bereft of supplies.

  Wyatt turned his head to the side as something caught his attention.

  “We need to—”

  “Shut up.” The short harsh words left Stephen speechless. Again, Wyatt could hear the quiet sound through the silence.

  “Is your radio on?” Stephen simply nodded. “Give it here.”

  Wyatt snatched the radio from him and turned the volume up.

  “…Olivia Bennett. Is anyone out there?” For a moment he stared at the radio. He didn’t know who this person was, but someone else was alive outside their enclosed world.

  “Olivia, this is Officer Wyatt Ward of the Cottleville Police Department.” After a moment, no response came to his call. Panic began to rise with the thought that perhaps it had taken him too long to respond.

  “Hello, Olivia? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here! I…I wasn’t sure anyone would respond.” He could hear relief that mirrored his own in the woman’s voice. The rest of the group knelt down and crowded close around him and the radio.

  “It’s nice to know someone else is still out there.” Wyatt couldn’t hide the relief from his voice.

  “What is happening? Why are people acting so…strange?” The woman’s voice was quiet and tentative.

  “You mean the sick people?”

  “Is that what they are? Sick?” She didn’t seem surprised.

  “That’s what I think, but it’s not like anything I’ve ever seen. If it’s not some kind of sickness, I don’t know what it could be.”

  “Do you know?” The woman’s voice was tentative. “Is this happening everywhere?”

  Wyatt rubbed his face. He should have expected the question. Over the past twenty-four hours it was one that had never been far from his mind. “I don’t know for sure. There’s rioting going on everywhere, not just in St. Louis. I don’t think it’s a coincidence.”

  There was a long pause before Olivia responded. “Do you think help is coming? Maybe the military.”

  “We were just talking about that.” The group exchanged furtive glances. “We don’t know.” Wyatt considered what to say next before he continued. “I think help will come if this isn’t too widespread.”

  “We? There are others there with you?” Wyatt could hear the excitement in her voice. “How many?”

  “There are six of us. Myself, another officer, and four others.” The despair this reminder brought was evident across all of their faces. “It’s about five percent of our original number.”

  “I-I-I’m so sorry. To all of you.” Silence fell over the radio. “Officer Ward, we need help. I’m trying to get my daughter away from…all of this. But I need help. There are so many of them.” For a brief moment the radio went silent. “I don’t think I can do this by myself.”

  “You have a child?” An invisible hand took hold of his heart as he thought of Sarah and Ben.

  “She’s eighteen months old. Her name is Elli.”

  Miranda squeezed her daughter a little closer as Wyatt struggled for words. There was nothing they could do to help this woman, who reminded him so much of his own wife.

  “I’m sorry, Olivia.” The words were slow to leave his lips. “I want to help you but we’re pinned down at the station. We lost control of things quickly. If we ever had control.” Wyatt swallowed around the lump that formed in his throat. “Now we aren’t sure how to get ourselves out of this mess.”

  A couple of moments passed before Olivia responded. As her voice came over the radio, he could hear the restrained tears in her words, but there was a hard edge of resolve behind it. “What should we do?”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m on the east side of Highway Sixty-Four. I don’t think I’m too far south of Old Highway Ninety-Four, but I’m not exactly sure. We are trying to get to a farm out past Troy. How am I supposed to get her all the way out there, on foot by myself?”

  “Do you have a car? The highway is probably a mess but maybe you can use the side streets to get you there a little faster.”

  “I…I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to get back in a car.” He could hear her heavily sigh even through the radio static. “Elli and I were caught just on this side of the Boone’s Bridge when those things just came out of nowhere. Then suddenly they were everywhere. People were running…screaming…dying.”

  After another pause, Olivia’s voice came back strong and determined. “People were trapped in their cars by them or trapped by other people. They couldn’t fight, couldn’t escape. They just had to wait to die. I don’t want to get caught like that. The roads are probably jammed up everywhere, and it’s going to get worse throughout the night as more people realize what’s happening. If we hit a jam, we’ll get trapped just like on the highway, only this time there will be more of them and we’ll be by ourselves.”

  “I’m glad you made it.” The words were sincere. He didn’t know this woman but no one deserved the death these monsters offered. “But you aren’t quite out of the woods yet. Let me think a minute about a plan B.” Wyatt rubbed his hands across his face. He paused and wondered how many times he had done that in the last day.

  “Anybody have any ideas?” He looked between the group members as he posed the question. “We can’t seem to decide what’s best for us, but we have each other. Whatever is happening is at least reaching across the city. This woman is scared and alone with no one to help keep her daughter safe.” His gaze fell to Miranda and they locked eyes for a moment. “We can’t give her any physical help, but I think the least we can do is try to offer her our advice and support.”

  The group bent in close and the heated debate started again. This time, however, tempers never boiled over. Instead, with the purpose of helping another in the same desperate situation, they came together with determination to find a suitable solution.

  “Olivia, are you still there?”

  “Yes! Yes, I’m here.” She answered a little too quickly.

  “What about following Highway Forty? Not actually on the highway but off the side. Most of what borders the highway is unused land or residences. There are a few exceptions, but it should be less populated, which hopefully will mean less of those things. Your biggest problem will be crossing where Highway Forty and Seventy meet.”

  “I think that would work,” Olivia said slowly. “It would almost be a straight shot to the farm.”

  “Listen, Olivia.” Wyatt stood up abruptly and walked away from the group. “These…people are dangerous. Really dangerous. Moving around outside with a small child
is…” suicidal. He couldn’t say that. What choice did she have? The deranged were quick and vicious. Moving among them would be a challenge for an adult that could move quickly and quietly. It would be nearly impossible with a small child. “Stay under cover. Stay close to shelter. Stay away from them. Be quick and be quiet. Be safe.”

  “We will. Thank you, all of you, for your help. I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” There was a pause but Wyatt sensed that Olivia was not finished. “Listen, Officer Ward, when you get out of there. You should head to the farm. I don’t know if it is even safe anymore, but if it is I’m sure that you and whoever is there with you will be welcome.”