The Contaminated: Where Were You When The Pandemic Hit?

by Kypers, Ryan

  We both grabbed our respective weapons, a bat for each, and a flashlight that we brought from home. Though I wanted to bring the wrench, my arm was still too damaged from the kitchen knife mishap, and I did not want to put too much pressure on it. The last thing I needed was split stitches while fighting a contaminated. They could spit blood at me and contaminate me, not my personal favorite way to go down.

  The sliding doors were closed and there was no power behind them. I had to force them open, though if you have ever worked in retail you know that this is done with relative ease. Once inside the vestibule, we slid the doors closed again. We did not expect anyone to find us, but we were trying to avoid the off chance of a contaminated wandering into the store after seeing the car’s headlights illuminating the parking lot.

  “Hey,” I whispered to Chelsea. “I have an idea. Just be ready to run.”

  “What are you doing?!”

  I lifted my bat and aimed. We needed to know if there were any contaminated in the store, and I really did not trust us sneaking around just to be jumped by one in the pitch dark. At least in the vestibule we had some of the night light, as little as it was, illuminating some of it, giving us the better chance at a fight.

  The one handed swing of the aluminum baseball bat came down on a white steel support beam with a definitive ring. The noise echoed throughout the store and I did it once, twice, three more times, sending the obnoxious beat through every aisle. The buzzing echoed for at least ten seconds straight, sound waves bouncing off of walls and shelving.

  “What are you doing?!” Chelsea yelled at me, furious. To be fair, I probably should have told her first. Oh well.

  I looked down, smiling, “Checking for any contaminated, or anyone for that matter. We have the better position here to fight them so at least we can be sure that none are coming.”

  “And what if there were, oh say twenty of the contaminated in the building?” she slapped me in the arm, the bad one. Ouch.

  I guess I had not thought of that, “Well, we are close to the doors-“

  “Oh yeah, because twenty or so contaminated chasing us down the highway in our illuminated car is really something that other contaminated wouldn’t jump on! Damn it we are practically driving a Christmas tree down route twenty! Think next time, please.”

  “Well, nothing seems to be coming!” I yelled into the darkness. “Besides, I’d rather we didn’t get jumped while pulling canned green beans off of the shelf.”

  She was still mad, “Just tell me next time.”

  “Fine.”

  We moved into the store, flashlights being the only source of any way to see. Some of the metal shelves reflected the lights, giving us slightly better vision, but not much better. The place had already been looted by someone. Shelves were knocked over and useless materials scattered across the floor. The electronics section was devastated. Televisions were gone, even the ones on display. Movie racks were barren and gaming shelves only held the boring games that my grandmother would not even think to buy me.

  “People really thought this would be over fast I guess,” Chelsea said in a quieter tone, not wanting to disturb the silence.

  “Apparently they were wrong.”

  It was good for us, though. The looters took all of the useless expensive televisions and computers and cameras that wouldn’t be of any use but left the food. Mind you, the food section smelled like something died, or many things died. Since the refrigeration didn’t work, mold grew on the vegetables and the meat was spoiled and then some.

  I raised my shirt above my nose, trying to quell the scent. “Try not to breathe,” I said through a muffled mouth.

  “If this continues I might die, so don’t worry,” she replied.

  After walking down aisles of excruciating smells of death, we finally managed to find the canned goods: beans, beans, soup, and beans. With a reluctant sigh, we pulled them as fast as possible off of the shelf and into our packs. We must have fit nearly twenty pounds of canned foods into our backpacks, which became significantly heavier.

  “Can we please leave now?” Chelsea asked, eyes tearing from the putrid smell.

  “One quick stop,” I said, directing her towards the pet section.

  I moved down the aisle, looking for cat food. The smell was not so bad here. The combination of dog and cat food smell flooding the aisle canceled out much of that lovely dead meat scent. I found a big yellow forty pound bag with an orange cat on the front. It would work. I hoisted it over my bad shoulder. It hurt, but I was not ready to compromise my good arm if I needed to fight. I also snatched a cat toy of a little ball with a bell in it and a mouse that held catnip for Coal. She would play with little things around the house such as drinking straws and aluminum foil, but I figured she could use an actual cat toy to relax with, though I had no idea what a cat could stress about.

  Chelsea practically sprinted out of the food section, bursting ahead to the register area where there was fresh air. I saw her as I exited the pet aisle and began to make my way over when a hissing rang out in the silence. We were so close to a clean and easy run.

  I whirled around, flashlight flailing in the dark in search of what was making the noise.

  “Turn it off!” I heard Chelsea yell. “The exit is just past the registers! Feel your way out so it can’t track you!” A loud hiss erupted from somewhere in the store but the echoing made it difficult to pinpoint the contaminated’s position.

  I did as she said and pressed the button near the top of the flashlight to turn it off. Everything went pitch dark, but the exit glowed with a dimmed light of the moon and stars attempting to poke through the cloudy sky. It would not be as hard as I thought to get out, but that meant that the contaminated could also see the glowing from the outside.

  I pressed forward slowly, my shoes barely making a noise on the flooring of the superstore. With each step my pack gave off a light clank and the bag of cat food crumpled. My leg suddenly collided with a painful pang against the siding of a register belt. I yelped and cursed more times in my head than I had in my entire life. Another hiss rang out and echoed across the store and off of the walls.

  Chelsea’s barely visible dark figure passed my sight near the exit and I heard the doors of the store being forced open on their track. Another hiss rang out as another dark figure emerged into the poorly lit vestibule. The contaminated was searching for Chelsea.

  I slowly took the bag of cat food and placed it on the belt of the register that I slammed my knee into followed by the backpack with the cans of food and the mouse cat toy. I shook the bell of the other cat toy lightly and the contaminated took notice, but could not tell where the noise came from. I rang it once more then threw it right above the contaminated’s head, passing over and into the vestibule.

  The contaminated’s head jolted towards the ball colliding against the walls of the vestibule. It darted forward towards the sound of the jingling bell. I sprinted out of my hiding spot at full speed, bat in hand. My foot came to a sliding halt in front of it as its head turned around, but it was too late for the contaminated. My bat was already flying through the air and at the head of the monster. A loud pang sounded when the barrel of the bat hit the contaminated directly in the forehead, splitting its face in half. It sounded as if I was breaking a stick with my knee, but with blood and white eye goo shooting out at me from the force.

  For some reason, I kept on swinging, smashing the bat into the head of the contaminated, then the body, then limbs. The rage and pent up fear that I had been hiding inside of myself for so long was coming out and in force, “This is for my family!” I smashed the shoulder. “This is for everyone who died!” I smashed the knee in. “This is for Chelsea’s parents-“ I caught myself, but it was too late.

  I whirled around to see a stunned Chelsea standing in the center of the sliding doors, watching me with a dull horror on her face. Her beautiful bright eyes were wide, dirty blonde hair blowing with the quiet night breeze, her gentle curves still and unmovi
ng. The pink of her lips was gone as they spread wide, but not in a smile.

  “Chels, I-“ she raised a hand to stop me. Without a word she went back to the car, opened the door and sat there, waiting for me to start it and move.

  Not knowing what else to do, I flicked the flashlight back on and found my things on the register belt. I grabbed them and made my way back to the car, stopping momentarily at the trunk to place the cat food and my bag.

  I opened the door and got in the car. The engine started as I turned on the headlights to full. The parking lot was still as empty as it would have been on Christmas day. The clouds above parted slightly to let some moonlight through, although it was waxing crescent so the light could have been much better. I kicked the car into gear and drove onto the highway.

  “Chels,” I began. “I’m sorry that I kept it from you.”

  “Okay.”

  Ugh. I hate the one word answers of a pissed off woman, though I probably deserved it. “Please don’t-“

  “Please don’t what?” she practically yelled. “Keep things from you? Oh because that’s a common theme with us, right?” She was staring straight ahead, eyes focused on the road.

  I sighed a worried sigh, “I meant to tell you, it just never seemed like a good time.”

  “Good time? When the fuck is a good time?” The Italian in her threw her hands in the air. “We’re in a constant war with mindless flesh sucking fucks. So please tell me when is there ever a good god damn time to tell me that my parents are dead?”

  I felt as if I got punched in the stomach with her words. “I just couldn’t have you losing hope. You were sick for a while then got bit by the CRU then the food situation then me running to the deli. I just didn’t want you to stop fighting. If you knew that you lost your parents, what else would there be for you to keep fighting for? I know it’s a shitty argument, but-“

  “You, you are a damn moron,” she said, finally looking at me. Her eyes were slightly red but without tears. Chelsea was tough, tougher than I had ever given her credit for, and my ass was getting kicked for it. “You senseless shit,” her eyebrows were twitching, she was holding back.

  I pulled the car over to the side of the highway, though in retrospect, I probably could have just stopped. It’s not like anything was coming, “Chels, I really am sorry for not telling you.”

  “Did you really think that I would quit on you?” Her upper lip was twitching, but I could see an angry smile touching through. “Did you really think that I would abandon you?”

  I took my arms and wrapped them around Chelsea, and she returned the gesture. Her face was buried in my chest, slight convulsions coming from her back. I could smell the sweat of her hair mixed with a flowery shampoo. “I know we’ve only been together for a little while, but I love you, Chelsea.”

  “I love you, you twit,” she said into my shirt.

  I didn’t cry. I swear it. I didn’t cry, seriously. Stop thinking that. I mean it. I’m a tough man. Okay fine. Maybe. Just a little. Or not. Probably not. Maybe.

  Chapter 12

  We kept driving. I took the long route home, trying to preserve the moment of silent emotion that Chelsea and I were sharing. There was a good vibe between us, a connection that I had not felt any time before the supermarket, but a feeling that was definitely there afterwards.

  I had just passed by a broken traffic light, not the kind of broken like you see in the movies, with the pole bent or broken sideways lying across the street. Don’t be stupid. Contaminated or any fleshy creature really cannot push over a traffic light. Metal is hard.

  “You want to ask anything about it?” I asked, breaking the silence. “About your parents I mean.”

  She shrugged a little, “I don’t know what there is to ask. To be honest, I kind of gave up on ever seeing them again with the way that the world has become, and I always knew something was up. They never called me, you know, like how your mom did,” she looked down, playing with a string on her shirt. “I guess I kind of always figured they were gone for good. Not necessarily dead, but somewhere else. Your mother told you when she called, didn’t she.”

  I nodded while looking ahead, “Yes. She told me that she saw them, but-“

  “Okay, that’s okay,” she was still playing with the string. “I don’t want to know what happened to them per say. I really just want to remember them for being my kind and loving parents, the best parents a daughter could ask for. How they wound up doesn’t change how I feel about their life. It would only tarnish it.”

  She knew where I was taking it of course. I think that she just did not want to hear it said, as if she put up a wall, blocking her vision to the ending of her beloved parents. It was such a shame that a terrible thing as the contamination affected them.

  “Do you remember?” I began. “Do you remember when I first started flirting with you? And we watched the Titanic?”

  “Where you cried at the end?” she said, a playful smile crossing her lips.

  “I didn’t cry. I told you that I got a dust bunny in my eye!”

  “Okay, sure.”

  “You remember how your dad saw us holding hands,” I cleared my throat. “Then showed me his gun case and how to properly oil a shotgun.”

  “No he didn’t!” she said, slapping me on the leg. “You never told me that before!”

  “I so did too!” I said, rubbing my thigh. “He showed me the gun case then proceeded to tell me that ‘any man who wishes to date my daughter must know how to properly oil a shotgun,” I said in my deepest dad voice.

  “You’re lying!”

  “I am not!” I said, my voice returning to its normal, somewhat squeak. “Then he offered me cookies! I never understood your father.”

  “Cookies? That’s the best thing that you could come up with?” she said in obvious disbelief.

  I nodded, “Yup. He gave me cookies and your mother forced tea on me. You know how I feel about tea.”

  “You like tea?”

  “Well, yeah,” I agreed. “But not in a public setting.”

  “My house wasn’t a public setting,” she replied, placing a hand on my thigh. “You know that.”

  I’ll admit, my driving sputtered a moment while I attempted to recover from her advance. Let’s just say I shifted into full gear. “We should get back.”

  Her smile widened, “Oh good. I thought we might have to do it while driving.”

  I shifted into gear five.

  “STOP!” She yelled.

  My eyes darted upwards, but it was too late. A contaminated was standing in the road, like a deer in the headlights, but I have a suspicion that it knew exactly what it was doing. My brakes screeched as the wheels tried to stop the momentum of the moving vehicle but could not stop the car in time. The contaminated bounced off of the front right side of the car, its head smashing against the hood. The shocks of the car bounced up and down as the contaminated rolled under the car. The front right headlamp was out, shattered by the body of the contaminated. Fortunately, we were only about a mile from home and the damage did not seem to be too bad.

  “Holy hell!” I yelled, far too late for the situation. The scent of burned rubber wafting through the air and into the car. “You okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” Chelsea replied. “Maybe we should focus on the road more instead of distracting each other.”

  “Agreed.”

  I pressed my foot on the gas again. A light thumping noise sounded as the car drove through the streets, probably from a bent axle or something damaged. Oh well, so much for this car. At least we had a few to choose from. When the town was being evacuated, the military picked up most of the residents who simply left their cars parked in the driveway, probably unlocked. Though I did not want to, if I ever did need it, I could definitely just break into a house and take the keys to any car that I wished.

  We were in the part of town with working street lights so I took advantage of that and turned off the working headlight to cause as littl
e attention as possible. There was still engine noise, but that was necessary when driving a car. We were not interrupted on the rest of the drive back home as I clunked into the driveway, finally pulling to a stop with a squeak and screech.

  Chelsea opened the door to get out as I popped the trunk to retrieve my pack and the cat food that I had stored there from the superstore. The clouds were parted almost fully now, providing a decent amount of moonlight to the world. The cold November breeze nipped at my nose turning it a bright red by the time that I was able to make my way inside.

  “Your cheeks are rosy,” Chelsea giggled as I shut the door. She had already closed the curtains and blinds to prevent as little light as possible from escaping the living room. “C’mon, let’s make some soup to warm up.”

  I put my things down on the dining room table as Coal jumped me. She was calling as she jumped onto my shoulder. “I guess someone’s hungry too,” I said. I opened the bag of cat food and poured some into her bowl. She leapt right to it, her tail flipping back and forth in her ecstasy.

  Chelsea already had a pot on the burner and was opening two cans of New England clam chowder. Now that was something that I never imagined ever having again. You always think of what food you would love to have if a crisis happened to the world or if you were stuck on an abandoned island, and I guarantee that nobody ever picks clam chowder, yet clam chowder is wonderful. It has all of the nutrients that a body would need: protein, starch, other things. Believe me, I was more than happy to have some clam chowder with the greatest crisis the world has ever seen unfolding in front of my eyes, but could not help myself to crave some good freshly made pizza.

  It heated quickly, bubbles indicating a boil blowing through the surface of the soup. Chelsea evenly poured the contents of the pot into two bowls. I placed the forks on the table along with a napkin and we ate in silence for a bit. Once my bowl was half way gone, I remembered some of the bread that was still frozen.