Zombie Night in Canada (Book 1): First Period

by Friesen, Jamie

He fired and the first dropped to the ground, her head blown off. He fired again and the second fell. He stood up and scanned the area. Then he switched his safety on and got back in the cruiser.

  “Where to now?” Ed asked.

  “Let’s go check on Harry, make sure the old geezer is still okay,” Dan replied.

  Ed drove for a few minutes and soon they stopped in front of a 7-Eleven. They scanned the area and got out cautiously. After a moment, they walked to the front door and tugged on it. It didn’t budge because it had been locked.

  Dan rapped on the glass hard, several times. Harry popped out from the storeroom and walked over to the door and opened it up for them. Harold Wong had immigrated to Canada in the ‘70s as a teenager with his parents and spent most of his life working in restaurants in Chinatown. Eventually, he and his wife had saved up enough of a nest egg to get out of the restaurant business and become entrepreneurs. In the decades since, his wife had passed away and his children had moved to other cities, following their own careers. Now he just whittled time away in his little corner store.

  “Good evening, officers. What can I do for you?” Harry said cheerily as they walked in.

  “Well, we just thought we’d pop in and make sure you’re okay,” Ed replied.

  “Yeah, no worries. It’s been dead quiet since you guys came in this morning. I had to lock the door because I needed to take a dump.”

  “Too much information, Harry!” Dan said, laughing.

  “Hey, no point in sugar-coating it – a dump is a dump,” he shot back, grinning.

  “You really should think about pulling up stakes, Harry, this area just isn’t that safe anymore,” Ed said. As if in response, a pair of gunshots rang through the air, followed by a high-pitched scream.

  “Like I told you this morning, this store is all I got left, I ain’t leavin it.”

  “Well, just be careful. We’ll be back after our patrol to check in on you again.” Dan paused, pulling out his card. “Just in case, here’s my card, call my cell phone if anything happens, okay.”

  “Sure thing, guys. I found some more canned stuff in the back, you interested?”

  “Yeah, we’ll grab it later, we should go check that out,” Ed said.

  Dan and Ed ran back to their car and headed off in the direction of the gunshots. When they arrived, they found two infected on the ground and a young man clutching his arm in pain. A pistol lay on the ground in front of him. Both infected were missing a large part of their heads, one was a young woman and the other a preteen child.

  “How are you doing?” Dan said from his car window.

  The stunned young man looked right through Dan with the same thousand-yard stare common in combat troops suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

  “Hey, I said what’s going on?” Dan said, raising his voice.

  “I was too late. I was too late,” he said and then kept repeating it.

  They both got out of the car and Ed covered Dan as he walked over to the young man. He was still repeating the phrase over and over.

  Dan grabbed the young man and heaved him upright, then shook him like a rag doll. “I said, what the fuck happened?”

  The young man looked right at Dan and said listlessly, “I came home right after she called me, but it was too late. Amy was bitten in the backyard, and then she bit my wife shortly afterwards.”

  “Is that a bite on your arm?” Dan asked as Ed walked up.

  “No, I, uhh, umm, brushed it against the broken window in my house,” the young man replied.

  “Sounds like bullshit to me,” Ed said.

  “Look, I’m telling the truth,” the young man protested.

  “Okay, fine, say I believe you. What should I do with you?” Dan asked.

  “Just leave me alone,” he mumbled.

  Dan glanced at Ed, and Ed shrugged his shoulders and then nodded his head. “Fine, take care. I’d be real careful in the near future.”

  “Future?” the young man croaked back. “You think I have a future…”

  Dan and Ed were already back at the car and had just started moving away from the scene when the young man scooped the pistol off the ground, jammed it in his mouth and fired. His limp body collapsed on the ground next to the bodies of his wife and daughter.

  Dan and Ed just kept driving. They spent the rest of their shift responding to calls that came over the Tac net and even the occasional cell phone call.

  After half a dozen hours or so, the car was low on gas and they were running low on both ammunition and energy, so they headed back to the station. Ed deliberately took a circuitous route that took them back to Harry’s store.

  They rolled into the strip mall parking lot that Harry’s 7-Eleven was located in and stopped in front of it.

  As Dan and Ed walked in, Harry shouted, “Greetings, officers!”

  “Hey, Harry, how was business today?” Ed asked.

  “Ah, nobody came in,” Harry replied.

  “See, what’s the point?” Dan said.

  “I ain’t got anywhere else to go and nothing else to do. Now stop pestering me and help me get that stuff for you.”

  Dan followed Harry back into the stock room and was handed a fair-sized box, stuffed with canned goods.

  Setting them on the counter, Dan asked, “How much, Harry?”

  “Nothing for my good friends in law enforcement.”

  “Now, now, Harry, you know we can’t just take it,” Dan said.

  “No, no, I insist,” Harry replied.

  “Look, here’s $40. I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “You be careful who you let in the store, Harry,” Ed said.

  “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine,” Harry replied.

  Chapter 13

  September 25th

  “Uh, Donald, can you take care of moving these boxes onto that pallet so we can store them up top?” Steve asked.

  Donald turned away from the TV he was watching. “I’d like to help, man, but I’ve got asthma and a bad back. Is there anything else I can do? Something not too physical?”

  Steve shook his head and said, “I’ll think of something.”

  “Okay, man, just let me know.” Donald turned around and went back to watching TV.

  Xander climbed down off the roof and walked over to Steve.

  “What is it?” Steve asked.

  “There’s a truck outside with a couple of rednecks trying to pry open one of the doors.”

  “Just great. How many are there?”

  “I think there are four guys in the truck. I didn’t see any women or children,” Xander replied.

  Steve thought for a moment and then said, “Come on up to the roof and let’s talk to them.”

  “Hey, Donald. You said you wanted to help out with something else? Grab your rifle and follow us.” He turned to Xander. “Grab yours, too, just in case.”

  The three of them climbed up to the roof. Donald loaded his rifle and stood well away from the edge so the guys below couldn’t see him. Steve walked right to the edge of the roof, with Xander a step behind him. Xander was careful to keep the AR-7 hidden.

  A huge pickup sat near one of the side doors. Two men were trying to pry open one of the emergency exits with a crowbar, while a man stood watch in the truck bed with a rifle. A fourth sat in the truck cab.

  “Hey, what do you guys want?” Steve shouted down to them.

  The armed man whipped in his head upwards. The rifle came up as well, but not in a threatening manner. He shouted, “Hey, Tom, there are people inside.”

  The man in the cab hopped out and craned his head upwards. “We didn’t realize anyone was inside. We’re looking for some food and maybe some camping supplies,” he said. “Can you spare some?”

  Steve looked at Xander, who nodded slightly, then he turned back and said, “Yeah, I think we can spare some. Drive over to the loading dock and we’ll open a bay for you.”

  The two men at the door tossed the crowbar in the truck and
hopped in the bed, while the apparent leader got back in the cab and started the truck.

  Steve turned to Xander. “I don’t really trust these guys, so go back inside and make sure everyone who has a weapon is armed and hidden near the loading dock. Then get Todd or Gary to move some of the stuff on Bay One. That’s farthest from the door at the loading dock. I’ll keep Donald up here just in case as well. Finally, get Jack up here with one of his fancy BB guns.”

  Jack’s favourite hobby had been paintball, but he’d very recently found a new sport, Airsoft, which he found even more enjoyable. While the pellets didn’t hurt as much as paintballs and it made it more difficult to tell if someone was shot, the realistic look of the weapons won him over. If he had to choose between something that looked exactly like an M-4 versus something that resembled a homemade zip gun from prison, the choice was obvious.

  “Okay, take this just in case,” Xander said, handing over his pistol. “Do you know how to use it?”

  “Aim and pull the trigger, right?”

  “Close enough.” Xander went back down the ladder and followed Steve’s instructions.

  Steve walked over to Donald and said, “Stay out of sight. If anything happens, start shooting.”

  Donald gulped and replied meekly, “Okay.”

  Steve walked over to the roof near the loading dock and shouted down to the guys below, “We’re going to open Bay One. It’s going to take a minute because we blocked it with some heavy furniture and stuff.”

  “Okay,” came the reply. The truck backed up to the door.

  Jack appeared a minute later, grasping his Airsoft gun that looked like an M-16.

  “Be ready, just in case, Jack,” Steve said.

  Jack nodded and moved closer to the edge, but stayed out of view of those below. In a few minutes, the door on Bay One began to slowly rise. The men below tensed.

  Xander said, “Hey, guys. We don’t have much, but we can spare this.” And he began tossing them sleeping bags, a couple of tents, and a Coleman stove.

  “We don’t have much canned goods left, but there’s a fair bit of meat and dairy products. That okay?”

  One of the guys who had been trying to pry open the door said, “Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Fred, Todd and Gary began handing over packages of chicken, pork, and beef, as well as jugs of milk and packages of yogurt. Xander slipped a few feet further back into the warehouse so that his AR-7, lying on top of a crate, was within easy reach.

  The leader got out of the truck and climbed into the truck bed, looking at everything they had been given. “What else you got?” he asked.

  “Not much really. Just enough for the few people in here,” Fred replied.

  “Can we come in and take a look?” the leader asked.

  “Sorry, but no,” Gary said.

  The leader pulled a pistol out of his jacket pocket and said, “Will this change your mind?” One of the other three men did the same, and the man with the rifle swung it around and aimed it at Gary.

  “Look, we don’t want any trouble. You asked for help and we offered. Let’s be civilized about this,” Gary replied, backing up a step.

  Suddenly there was a shout from above and Steve, Donald, and Jack appeared, aiming their weapons at the four men in the truck bed.

  Xander appeared at the dock pointing his AR-7, as did two others, brandishing the bolt-action hunting rifles Donald and Diane had retrieved from Canadian Tire.

  “You might want to rethink things here,” Xander said slowly.

  The leader, dismayed at the sudden show of firepower raised both his hands and said, “Whoa, I think we got off on the wrong foot, fellas.” Both his and this compatriot’s pistols slipped from their grasp and rolled on their trigger fingers.

  “Xander!” Steve shouted.

  “Yo!”

  “Keep an eye on them, I’m coming down!”

  Seconds later, Steve was standing on the dock beside Xander. He kept his pistol aimed at the leader and said, “Gary, take both those pistols and the rifle.”

  “But you can’t leave us unarmed!” the leader sputtered.

  “Maybe you should have tried to be friendlier, like we were before you pulled those guns on us.”

  Gary hopped down and took all the firearms, then backed away slowly.

  “Empty out your pockets,” Steve ordered.

  One by one, the four men grudgingly stepped forward to the edge of the dock and emptied their pockets, dumping a fair amount of ammunition and other items. The leader’s pockets included a Motorola two-way radio.

  “What was this for?” Steve asked. The leader remained silent, but one of his men spoke up.

  “We have another group out there, also looking for salvage.” The leader shot the speaker a dirty look.

  Steve said, gesturing to the food they’d been given, “Out of the kindness of our hearts, we’ll let you keep the food.”

  The items from the four men’s pockets were collected and Steve added, “Now get lost and don’t come back. The next time we won’t be nearly as lenient.”

  The four men grumbled as they got into the pickup and then drove off.

  As they left, Steve turned to Xander and said, “Whew, that was close. I don’t know if I could have shot someone.”

  “Me either. Good job though, Steve, you put the fear of God in them.”

  “Thanks,” Steve replied. Then he handed over the pistol, his hands shaking.

  “Maybe we need to worry about regular people trying to get in here, too,” Xander said.

  “Any ideas?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah, a couple.” Xander replied.

  ---------

  Dan and Ed had just barely drifted off for a nap when another officer came into the ready room where they were and shook them awake.

  “There’s an emergency in the west end. We need you to lead a rescue team.”

  “Huh?” Ed and Dan both said groggily.

  “There’s a problem at one of the infected holding facilities. We need you to move out ASAP!”

  Dan shook the cobwebs out of his head and stood up. “Come on, Ed.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Ed said, rubbing his eyes.

  They headed out to the loading dock, grabbing their weapons leaning against the wall. On their way to the dock, they stopped by the armoury and picked up some more ammo. When they got to the dock, almost two dozen officers were waiting for them. All were wearing body armour and carrying rifles or shotguns. Several of them included the desk sergeants and other out of shape administrative types.

  “What are you doing here, Savard? I thought you only rode a desk these days?” Ed said to the older, portly police officer.

  In a thick Quebecois accent came the retort, “Not a lot of need for pencil pushers lately, Ed.”

  “Too true,” Ed admitted. “Good to have you along, Denis.”

  At the end of the dock were both remaining Tactical Team Suburban SUVs.

  “Load ’em up!” Dan shouted.

  Eight officers got into the SUVs, while the rest moved to the door. As soon as it was high enough, officers spilled out into the brisk fall air and ran for their cars.

  Dan and Ed led the way and their cruiser was the first one out of the lot. A string of almost a dozen police cruisers and SUVs followed close behind. The convoy raced west on 137th Avenue, lights flashing and sirens blaring. It changed lanes frequently, dodging the dozens of abandoned and wrecked cars strewn along its length.

  Occasionally, Dan would see terrified residents peeking out from behind living room curtains or bedroom windows. Many houses had hastily boarded up windows, in some cases four by eight foot plywood sheets or two by fours, but in most cases bits of wood scavenged from around their home, usually tables and doors. He felt sorry for them, as he realized too late – like many city officials – that instead of staying in the city, they all should have fled to the relative safety of rural Alberta and stayed there for a few weeks. Had that happened, the number of infected would
be far smaller and the infection would have spread slower.

  The rationale for having them stay in their homes instead had been fears that such a rapid evacuation would have spread the pandemic even faster. The city also had more medical facilities and far more ability to deal with the pandemic than smaller cities and towns did. However, given how few cases were being reported in rural counties nearby, the policy had shown exactly the opposite. A small percentage of Edmontonians, perhaps ten or maybe even fifteen percent had fled the city in the past week, heading for the ‘safety’ of their summer cottage, acreage, or lake lot. Others had taken camping equipment and headed for the mountains or somewhere else remote. However, the vast majority of Edmontonians had no such bolt hole to hide in and most had been forced to weather the storm in their homes instead.

  Standard operating policy for the past week or so had been to always use their sirens when travelling, as it attracted the infected to those most capable of dealing with them, the police. But now, Dan feared that with the police convoy moving so fast, it would attract infected to those not yet infected along 137th Avenue, making a bad situation possibly worse.

  Ah well, nothing much I can do about it now, he thought to himself.

  “Coming up on St. Albert Trail, Dan,” Ed said, snapping Dan out of his meandering line of thought and into a different one altogether.

  The wheels screeched loudly as Ed made a hard left into the parking lot of the facility, an old warehouse run by a local food distribution company. As the car turned, Dan saw a large part of the wall had been knocked down by a dump truck that had rammed through the sheet metal walls like scissors slicing tissue paper. Infected were already streaming out of the facility when their car came to a stop.

  Half a dozen police cruisers were already in front of the building, their officers disgorged and firing into the growing mass of infected spilling out of the building. Dan was out of the car and moving within seconds of Ed applying the brakes. Dan stood behind the rear of the car, raised his MP-5 and began shooting. Ed was out of the car a second after killing the ignition. His shotgun boomed several times, knocking down infected like bowling pins.