Tom awoke and walked down the hall to where Ty and Jess were sitting. Sugar looked up briefly but returned to her usual position, sprawled out on the kitchen floor.
“Well, Mr. Hanks nice to see you awake. By the way I loved you in Big.” Jess said as he checked his shotgun.
“That was my brother down there. He didn’t deserve that.” Tom shouted puffing out his chest.
“He wasn’t your brother anymore, Tom, I’m sorry. But I did what had to be done. This is Jess and I’m Ty.” Ty looked at the teenager with sullen eyes and ignored the threatening stance he had taken.
Tom raised his hand to say something but just sat down and stared at the floor. Jess looked across at Tom and did what he could to stifle his laughter. Ty watched the teen for a moment before speaking again.
“Was it hard growing up with that name? I mean all the jokes and such.”
Tom looked up at Ty and began to smile through the grief.
“It wasn’t so bad. I was actually pretty popular, I think because of my name. My brother had the worst of it. His first name was Milton. I have no idea what our parents were thinking when they named him.”
Jess stifled his laughter for as long as he could then he let it out. The room was soon filled with laughter as all three men looked at one another. The laughter soon subsided as reality set back in. The three sat silently once more.
Nervously, Tom began to speak again. “What is happening out there? Why did my parents and brother have to die?” Tears filled his eyes.
“We don’t know what’s happening out there. Jess was attacked at work and those things started hanging around here late the other night. I was woken up by the constant sirens.” Ty paused for a moment. Jess continued to look over his weapons and supplies.
“The sirens have all stopped. I haven’t heard one in over, I don’t know how long.” Ty walked to the sliding glass door and slowly opened it. He stepped out onto the patio and listened closely. No sirens.
“You’re right. I haven’t heard one for a long time.” Jess was standing in the doorway. Tom remained sitting on the floor. The tears continued.
“What do you think is going on?” Jess asked now leaning in the doorway.
“Be quiet for a moment.” Ty stepped to the edge of the patio and looked over the skyline. Only the sound of the undead walking below could be heard. They shuffled around and moaned as if in some sort of pain. It was the intense smell that caused him to wrinkle his nose and cover his mouth. Drying excrement, bloated stomachs releasing gases and other contents, and drifting clouds of smoke made the air damn near unbearable. Ty trained his ears. He could hear vehicles off in the distance but couldn’t see them.
“I think there’s a caravan or a camp somewhere north of here.”
Jess walked out to the edge of the patio and tried to hear what Ty was hearing. He looked down and saw several zombies moving about aimlessly. He looked over at Ty and could see that he was staring off to the north. Jess did the same. The sound of vehicles filled his ears.
“You’re right man, I can hear them. I don’t think they’re moving though.” Jess said, stifling a cough while staring intently to the north.
“Do you think it’s the military?”
Ty shook his head “no” and continued to listen. The zombies rambling below hadn’t noticed them on the patio. Jess stood there as well listening the steady sound for a long moment before speaking again.
“I bet you they’re at the Convention Center. I remember after 9/11 the Police and Fire Department ran a disaster drill. They made the parking lot a command point and evacuation center. It was in the paper, front page. There has to be emergency personnel gathered there. It makes perfect sense. The people are going to where the help will be. Safety in numbers.” Jess smiled at Ty and pointed in the direction of the Convention Center.
“I don’t know, man. I don’t like it. What happened to all the cops and fire fighters? That fire rig down the street was just abandoned. The sirens have stopped and there have been no announcements on the radio or TV. If there was an evacuation center it would have been all over the news.”
“What do you mean? Listen for a second. All the activity sounds like it’s at the Convention Center. We should drive over there and check things out. It can’t hurt. Besides, we can do some target practice on the way over.” Jess walked back into the apartment and approached Tom who was still sobbing on the floor.
“Listen kid, the world ain’t right. Things have gone to shit, but I think people are gathering at the Convention Center and I want to go there. You should come to.” Jess reached down and patted the sobbing teen on the head.
Ty remained on the patio. He looked over the ruined city. Smoke billowed from several fires still burning out of control. His mind swirled with ideas. Everything from just staying put in the apartment, to running for the hills. His mind finally settled back on the idea of going to his work, The Bixter Building, where he was the Building Superintendent. The building, he felt, was the most secure place he could be with Sugar and his friends if they wished to come along. Something about the Convention Center didn’t feel right. Too many times he had seen movies where the survivors of some plague or disease were rounded up by the government and held against their will until a cure was found or they were all dead. This felt like one of those movies and Ty wanted nothing to do with it. He walked into the apartment and described his plan to seek refuge in the Bixter Building.
Twenty-Three
Henry O’Grady sat near his shortwave radio sipping a cup of English breakfast tea his darling wife Anna had prepared. He watched the buzz of activity around Convention Center grounds. Late in the morning Gates gave orders allowing people to move into the Convention Center building. The command center moved to the main lobby. Henry preferred to remain outside. He was provided with an armed guard, an armored car guard who still wore his work uniform with “Armored Trans Inc.” on the patch. Henry was happy to be outside enjoying the fresh air. The thought of being locked up inside the center waiting to be rescued made him anxious. He didn’t care for the idea of Anna being with people she didn’t know.
Anna, suffering from the early stages of Alzheimer’s, had difficulties dealing with too many people. Henry contemplated moving Anna inside the Center but thought better of it. He made the necessary arrangements with Gates then made himself quite comfortable outside with his best camping equipment. It was a stroke of luck his RV was prepped and ready to go when the event began.
His favorite chair creaked under his weight as he scooted forward to check the settings on his radio. There had been no contact with the Mountain Home Idaho group for over two hours. The man Henry had corresponded with, Marcus? Henry questioned himself, told him activity was increasing in his area and they were thinking of bugging out for the badlands south of their current location. Henry spent time monitoring the multiple bands on his radio but heard nothing. Then Anna told him there was something on the TV. He looked at her inquisitively.
“What do you mean there’s something on the TV?” He said to her trying not to be insensitive to her condition.
“The news is on and my soap should be on. It sounds bad.” Anna watched as her husband rushed to the RV.
The small color Television sat on the fold out dining table, the same table they had played many rounds of Spite & Malice on. Henry sat in front of the TV, pulling out a notebook from his shirt pocket. He started jotting down notes. The man on the TV looked haggard. His sleeves were rolled up and his tie was loosened around his neck. His hair was unkempt and it appeared he hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. He held a clipboard reading from the papers attached.
“In the past 48 hours, the United States as well as other parts of the world has witnessed extraordinary events. I am broadcasting from a small television studio near downtown Sacramento. I’m hoping this message is reaching you in good health. We will be showing extremely graphic footage shot near this studio in the past 12 hours. If you have little ones near the TV, plea
se have them turn away or leave the room. The earliest reported events began sometime late Wednesday afternoon but now there has been word there may have been similar events unfolding in the Midwest as early as Monday. There is no explanation for these events. Terrorism has been ruled out as these events have been duplicated in other parts of the world including the Middle East.”
Just above the left shoulder of the broadcaster a small screen played events captured near the studio. Henry watched in horror as a man was pulled from his car and torn limb from limb before a police officer burst into the frame firing. The officer was bull rushed by several zombies while attempting to reload his sidearm. The cameraman turned and ran just as the police officer reached out for help and lost his arm at the shoulder. A second scene began to play and Anna gasped in horror.
“Anna, go get Gates, the tall man with grey hair. He should be just inside the center, just up the steps.” Henry said blocking the TV with his body.
“Anna sweetheart, go get the guard outside to take you to Gates. I need him now.” Henry pointed to the door of the RV. Anna did what she was told even though she had no memory of Gates.
Henry turned back to the TV.
“For anybody receiving this broadcast, I would like to give you the latest update on what the government is calling safe areas. This information was received approximately thirty minutes ago. In the greater Sacramento area the location is the State Fairgrounds. The National Guard as well as the Red Cross has set up temporary housing and hospitals. The last report we received stated the grounds were secure for any citizens seeking refuge to head there. This is the only secure area for the greater Sacramento area at this time. Please do not head to the Arco Arena. It is not safe. Reports are sketchy at best but I hope they help. The I-5 corridor between Sacramento and Stockton is closed. The National Guard is in the process of reopening that stretch. The I-5 corridor is closed between Sacramento and the Oregon border. No travel on I-5 will be permitted at this time and military forces including the National Guard have been given orders to kill any persons traveling on I-5.”
Henry sat motionless. He had never feared an apocalyptic event such as this but now it was upon him. In the back of his mind he envied Anna and her disease. He wanted to forget but he couldn’t. A commotion sounded outside the RV. Henry turned as Gates and his appointed officers enter.
“What do you have?” Gates asked as he entered the small living area of the RV.
“News broadcast on channel 7.” Henry said turning back to the small TV. “It’s live.”
Gates crowded in beside Henry and watched. The reporter continued while images of the carnage continued to play in the corner of the screen. At one point, Gates turned away and just listened. The news still referred to the zombies as the infected. After several more minutes of road closure updates and so-called safe areas for citizens, the broadcaster introduced a researcher from UC Davis.
“My name is Dr. Shamir. I am a Professor of Cultural Anthropology at UC Davis. I know many of you have been first hand witnesses of these events occurring around the United States the past 48 hours. I have had the opportunity to examine and even attempt to interview several captured subjects brought to us by the military. Dr. Thorton Maines from the school of medicine accompanied me during these exams. Our findings are rudimentary at best due to the conditions we had to work under. Let me first say I believe this is not an airborne virus. There has been much concern regarding such claims. So far we have no evidence to back up this claim. What we did find was much more perplexing and troublesome. The examinations of the infected have produced…well, I’m not sure how to state this without sounding insane.”
Dr. Shamir appeared pained as he looked down at his notes. The small television audience watching the broadcast held their collective breaths awaiting the news. Dr. Shamir looked up at the camera and breathed deeply.
“The examinations have shown the infected to be, by all accounts dead.”
There was long pause as Dr. Shamir looked into the camera.
“The dead are walking the earth. Two of the bodies I examined were attacked by the dead and subsequently became infected. They too reanimated with limited motor skills at first, but began to gain or master their skills as time went on. A third individual, who died from a gunshot wound to the lower abdomen was examined. He was not infected. He had no visible signs of infection and blood tests proved negative. He rose from the dead forty minutes after the examination began. We attempted to contact Religious experts from the University and ask them to comment on the events and our findings. As of yet we have not received any word from our colleagues. The infected, as the media has dubbed them, are not alive. They are clinically dead. They have the ability to walk, run, and hunt the living. Anybody receiving a scratch or bite from one of them will suffer the same fate, only much faster than dying from natural causes or other means. The dead are walking the earth.”
Dr. Shamir stopped his speech and hung his head. He just sat and stared at his hands. The studio sat silent spare the hum of the remaining video and sound equipment. Gates looked over at Henry and shook his head.
“I don’t believe a word he says. I think this is some sort of infection, virus, what have you. The best thing we can do now is wait for the military to arrive. There is still a National Guard post on the west side of town. I have no doubt they will be here soon. The Convention Center was earmarked as the staging area for any disaster, and I for one consider this a disaster.” Gates finished his pep talk and patted Henry on the shoulder.
“I’ll be in the command center. Keep up the good work and let me know if you hear from anyone.” Gates exited the RV and waved his officers to follow him.
Anna walked back into the RV and asked about her soaps. Henry waved his hand angrily shushing her.
“Through some limited trial and error, we have found the only way to keep the dead or infected down is to destroy the brain. This must be done by any means possible. Early tests show there is no risk of infection from the blood of the infected. You must stay away from their saliva and I think their fingernails. I have no clear explanation for this but I have witnessed it several times.” The cameraman interrupted Dr. Shamir.
“Where is Dr. Maines?”
“Dr. Maines? I am not at liberty to say.”
“He’s infected, isn’t he?” The cameraman asked in an angry tone.
“I am not at liberty to say.” Dr. Shamir wiped sweat from his forehead. He was growing angry.
“Why don’t you just say what really is going on out there. Some sort of experiment has gone wrong and now we’re all paying for it. Why don’t you tell the truth?” The cameraman remained behind the camera.
“Again. I am not at liberty…”
“Tell us the truth. Maines is dead and he and the other dead are walking around trying to make us into lunch and it all started with some experiment in blasphemy.”
“I told you. I am not at liberty to say what happened to Dr. Maines and as far as your conspiracy theory, I have no knowledge of any experiment that would result in this.” Dr. Shamir was now standing and moving closer to the camera.
“Why are you not telling us the truth, doctor? The world deserves that much. Tell the truth and free your soul doc.” The cameraman moved in front of the camera. His back was to the camera but Dr. Shamir’s face could still be seen to one side.
“What the hell are you doing? I was only trying to help.” A gunshot rang out, sending a jolt down Henry’s spine. Screams could be heard coming from the television. On the screen Dr. Shamir fell to the floor in a heap. He struggled for a brief moment, twitched some, and then died with his notes still firmly grasped in his left hand. The cameraman turned and looked into the camera.
“God has forsaken us because we are all sinners. We have dwelled on this plane long enough and he is calling the righteous home. He has closed the doors to hell and cast Satan out into our world and we will all burn. That doctor was a liar and he will burn in this hell along with most of
you out there. I am a soldier in God’s army and as such, I will do my part to rid this plain of its sinners. I will be strong in his eyes and I will be welcomed into his kingdom. God be with me.” The cameraman held up a small crucifix from around his neck and kissed it while looking towards the heavens.
The camera continued a steady feed after the cameraman left the shot. Henry sat motionless. Anna busied herself around the small kitchen preparing breakfast for the second time today. Henry watched the TV waiting for anyone to step in front of the camera and say, “just kidding”. He waited for several minutes while the smell of fresh bacon lofted through the air. His vigil was finally broken by the sound of gunfire from the perimeter of the camp, not the TV. Henry rushed outside grabbing his shotgun.
Anna stood in the doorway watching her husband rush away. She turned around and spied the television. “My stories should be on.” She watched Dr. Shamir twitch then roll over onto his side. He lay there for a short while then pushed himself onto his hands and knees. He crawled to the far end of the studio just out of the cameras eye then fell back into view moaning as he struggled to regain his footing. Within a minute, Dr. Shamir learned how to use the edge of a desk to pull himself to his feet. Blood soaked the front of his shirt and the gunshot wound in his upper chest was visible. His eyes, never blinking, were cloudy and grey. He walked past the camera and into his world, the world of the dead. Anna changed the channel.
Twenty-Four
A small caravan of four trucks and one SUV snaked along Hwy 44 East headed to Hilltop Drive. The caravan was lead by Willie “Wildman” Stanovich, a former state highway worker who medically retired for unknown reasons. Willie remained in good shape and proficient with firearms. Willie’s son, Nicholas sat across from him in the 4x4 truck with a small semi-automatic pistol on his side. Nicholas was thirteen but had the attitude of a twenty year old. He was as stubborn as his father and proved very useful in their families escape from their neighborhood. Nicholas had a good eye with the small firearm and learned quickly to conserve ammo and use headshots.
Welcome to Necropolis Page 9