by Jon Athan
As he straightened the steering wheel and peered into the foggy road ahead, Lawrence said, “Christ, these streets are terrible tonight.” He glanced over at his partner in the passenger seat and asked, “You didn't mess with anything, did you?”
Officer Manuel “Manny” Chavez huffed and shook his head as he pushed his right hand to the car's ceiling and his left hand towards the dashboard. Manny responded, “No, man, it's just your shitty driving. Slow down a little before you get us killed.”
Sweat trickled down Manny's creased brow and chubby cheeks like roaring rivers. His straight black hair was damp from his perpetual perspiration. He stood five-six with a gnomish but strapping figure – his burly chest and his massive biceps proudly protruded forward. He had a clean-shaved face, brown eyes, and a round face. He donned the same uniform as Lawrence. The pair were solely separated from the desolate backseat by the rattling cage partition.
Lawrence chuckled, then responded, “Yeah, yeah. Like you would do any better. You're a nervous wreck man, admit it. Besides, it's the damn streets. There's too much rain and trash, man. The city needs to clean this shit up.”
Manny nodded and said, “Yeah, but with all that's been happening lately, they've quit it. They're done. They're not going clean it up any time soon. The maintenance can wait. I mean, the world... the world is going to hell, man. Cleaning this crap up won't really make it any better.”
Lawrence turned from Main Street and onto 6th Street as he said, “I hear you, man. You hear about that girl and her grandfather over in the valley? The kid killed her grandpa because her mother was out on another date. She was tired of the neglect, tired of taking care of the man, so she killed him. Stabbed him through the neck with a kitchen knife. Even the kids are going crazy these days...”
Manny huffed, then said, “What about that break-in yesterday? The whole family was slaughtered by some lunatic posing as Santa Claus. Santa Claus, man. Who the hell does that on Christmas Day, man? Who? People are sick. I can't believe this sort of crap happens on the holidays.”
Lawrence pierced through the engulfing fog ahead with his sharp, determined eyes. The roads were silent and barren, only the splashing puddles and skidding wheels echoed through the street. Not a single soul lingered after dark. The city had plunged itself into a realm of gloomy shadows and dreary ambiance.
Lawrence glanced at Manny and said, “That's why we have to do this... If the world is going to shit, we might as well take a piece for ourselves.”
Manny swallowed the lump of anxiety in his throat as he pensively gazed out of his window, then said, “I don't know, man. It doesn't seem right to take advantage of the situation like that. It doesn't seem easy, either.”
Lawrence chuckled, then explained, “If this was last week, I'd partially agree with you. But, now, we have to seize this opportunity. We have to do this, no matter what. It'll be good for both of us, trust me.”
Manny bit his bottom lip, then clicked his tongue. He glanced at Lawrence and asked, “You got a plan? An actual plan?”
Lawrence nodded as he glared ahead and explained, “We bust into his drug house, steal the cash, then get out.”
Manny nervously smiled and shook his head as he said, “That... That doesn't sound like it'll work. It doesn't even sound like a plan. It's too easy, man. Besides, it's... it's just not right, man. We can't be doing this shit. We can't stoop to their level. We... We're supposed to be cleaning this shit up. That's our job.”
Lawrence gave off a devious PR smile from ear-to-ear as he rebutted, “Come on, it's not right for them to sell drugs, either. It's not right for a kid to kill her grandfather. It's not right to attack a helpless family. In reality, we are doing out jobs. We're serving justice by doing this. Hell, if it makes you feel any better, we'll even flush their stash. Do some real good for the community.”
Manny sighed as he reluctantly nodded. As he was about to speak, uttering a measly croak of a word, Lawrence abruptly swerved to the right. The wheels squealed and howled as the car skidded to a leisurely roll. Lawrence glared out his window as he watched the silhouette of a man absently shambling towards the center of the road.
As he scowled at the seemingly disoriented man, Lawrence muttered, “What the hell's wrong with this guy?”
Manny lightly tapped Lawrence's shoulder and said, “Don't worry about him, man. He's just another drunk in a world of shit. If we're going to do this, I want to do it now. Let's not waste any more time.”
Lawrence nodded as the pair continued their trek into the ominous road ahead. The police cruiser stopped at the edge of the sidewalk. The duo glanced at the condemned apartment complex to their right. The four-story building was severely vandalized. Gang graffiti was scrawled across the dilapidated gray brick walls. The unkempt front lawn was littered with repulsive trash. The windows were shattered, the openings solely boarded by decaying planks of wood.
The police cruiser's radio buzzed, then the male dispatcher announced, “All units, all units. We have a 404 and multiple 187s South of...”
Without a single thought, Lawrence turned off the radio. Manny gazed at Lawrence with an uncertain glimmer in his eyes. Lawrence was cold and determined, his sullen face was unwavering. Manny reluctantly nodded as he swiped at the cold sweat ticklishly trickling down the nape of his neck.
Lawrence inhaled deeply, then said, “Let's do this.”
***
Lawrence hopped out of the vehicle, then moseyed towards the trunk. Manny sighed as he warily followed, The trunk flung open and Lawrence delved into his supplies – an armory of destructive weaponry. Manny anxiously looked to his left and right – a sore thumb for crime.
As he shuffled through his supplies, Lawrence explained, “It's going to be quick, Manny, don't worry about that. You have my back and I have yours. We bust in, shoot anyone with a gun, take the cash, flush the drugs, then bolt out. Simple.”
Lawrence retrieved a Model 870P Max shotgun from the trunk. He deviously smirked as he gazed and caressed the synthetic black firearm, gently running his fingertips down the 18-inch barrel. Manny nervously ran his fingers through his damp hair upon spotting the destructive firearm. Images of certain carnage were burned into his retinas.
Lawrence chuckled, then said, “Maximum damage.”
Manny shook his head and said, “I don't want that, man. That's... that's too much.” He carefully retrieved the compact Smith & Wesson handgun from his holster and asked, “Will this do? You... You think they'll be able to track it?”
Lawrence scoffed, “No, man. They won't give a damn about a bunch of dead gangsters. Not enough to call forensics anyway. We're cleaning a plague for them. We're doing God's work.” As he caught a glimpse of the uncertainty swelling in Manny's somber eyes, Lawrence reassured, “They won't track them to us. Don't worry.”
Lawrence tossed a black acrylic ski mask with three holes towards Manny, then veiled his head with his own. Manny followed suit, covering his face with the mask. Lawrence silently shut the trunk, then nodded towards the condemned building. The pair trudged through the unkempt lawn.
The dead grass crackled beneath their boots. The garbage bags, contaminated syringes, and food wrappings rustled with each step. The putrid stench stained the surrounding air. The duo sauntered up the three cement stairs. Lawrence stood to the left, Manny covered the right. Lawrence nodded towards Manny, Manny immediately returned the nod.
After five seconds of silence, Lawrence loudly whispered, “Now!”
Manny turned towards the door, then brutishly kicked forward. The door swung open, slamming against the hallway wall. The thud echoed down the drab, empty hallway. Manny quickly stepped in and aimed his firearm forward, Lawrence followed as he aimed towards the staircase to the right.
Manny whispered, “It's clear.”
Lawrence pointed his shotgun towards the stairs and said, “Check this out.”
A young woman laid on the staircase. Her eyes were shut and she did not breathe. She had frizzy brun
ette hair extending every which way. She wore a gray sleeveless shirt and a skimpy black skirt. Her kneecaps were bruised and scarred. Her left foot was bare and a black sandal dangled from her right foot. Needle tracks were scattered across her right arm and a syringe protruded from the median cubital vein. Her arm was tied with a rubber hose.
Manny shook his head and said, “Jesus, it looks like she just died. Should we... Should we try to revive her? Do we call someone?”
Lawrence sighed, then pointed his firearm down the hall and said, “No, it's too late for her now. We'll have someone pick her up in the morning. Let's keep going. The basement is the first door to the right. Get ready to breach.”
The door slowly creaked open. Manny and Lawrence peeked down the stairs. The basement was unusually silent and ominous. A menacing ambiance lingered in the forbidding basement. Manny swallowed loudly as he carefully descended down the rickety stairs. Lawrence followed behind, aiming the shotgun over Manny's head.
As he approached the corner, Manny glanced at Lawrence and whispered, “I have a bad feeling about this...”
Manny inhaled deeply, then turned into the modified basement. Tumbledown laundry machinery hugged the parallel brick walls to the left and right. The center of the basement had drying machines facing each parallel wall. The top of the defunct washers and dryers were used as tables for the drug labs. There were over a dozen dead bodies scattered across the floor. All of the bodies were dressed similarly with minor adjustments – large white t-shirts, blue jeans, and basketball sneakers. Some of the corpses had medical masks, others were bare. Most rested face down on the frigid concrete.
As they overlooked the unexpected carnage, Manny said, “Shit, someone must have got here before us...”
Lawrence knelt down and glided his fingertips across the icy floor. He shoved a body with the barrel of his gun as he diligently inspected for any evidence, but to no avail. There were no gunshot wounds or splattered blood stains. The bodies were only stained with blood at the mouth. Lawrence stood, then gazed at the plethora of drugs and supplies.
Manny rubbed his moist brow as he continued, “We just missed them, man. The blood is still fresh and...”
Lawrence shook his head and said, “No, no... We didn't miss anyone. They weren't killed by any rival gang bangers. This wasn't a robbery. No, this... this was an accident. It had to be. Look!” Lawrence pointed towards the drug supplies and said, “The drugs are still here, so the money has to be, too!”
Manny pointed to the other side of the room and said, “The vault...”
Wide-eyed, Lawrence nodded and instructed, “Hurry. Go, go, go!”
The pair tiptoed down the makeshift aisles between the washing and drying machines. They hopped and lunged over the dead bodies, carefully avoiding the puddles of dark blood. They quickly approached the opposite side of the room and found a sealed strongbox with a combination lock. The 16x19x13-inch safe sat atop a sturdy wooden desk beside a lamp and a stack of manila folders. As they helplessly fiddled with the lock, a ghastly, sluggish groan reverberated from the opposite side of the room.
As the pair stopped and absently stared at the lock, Lawrence asked, “What the hell was that?”
***
Lawrence and Manny slowly turned towards the ghoulish, haunting sound. The sound of blood plopping and heavy, shambling footsteps dominated the otherwise silent basement. Lawrence lifted his shotgun towards the dreadful sounds. Manny's hand trembled uncontrollably as he shined his flashlight towards Lawrence's unforeseen target.
Lawrence's eyes widened as he stuttered, “Wha–what the hell is that noise? Who–Who's there?” There was no response. Lawrence warned, “Don't make any sudden movements! We're the police, we will shoot!”
Suddenly, a pale-skinned man shambled into Manny's light. His head was slumped back as it swayed from left-to-right and right-to-left. His eyes were whitened and blood oozed from his mouth. The dark blood trickled down his jaw and plopped down to his filthy white t-shirt and grungy jeans. The man groaned with each plodding step.
Manny's teeth loudly chattered as he frightfully demanded, “Sh–Sh–Shoot it! Shoot the damn thing! Now!”
Lawrence gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes as he pulled the trigger on his shotgun. A chunk of the undead gangster's head exploded. Bits and pieces of his skull and brain splattered three meters behind. The zombie continued to absently shamble forward. As Lawrence prepared for his next shot, the zombie staggered to his knees, then tipped to his side.
Lawrence shook his head and shouted, “Fuck the money, let's get the hell out of here!”
Manny nodded and yelled, “That sounds like a damn good plan to me! Hurry!”
The pair leaped and lunged over the dead bodies as the corpses suddenly began squirming and groaning. They agilely escaped the crawling zombies' powerful grasps by a hair. The undead zombies near the staircase staggered to their feet. Behind the duo, the moaning and groaning increased with every passing second – the dead were rapidly rising and approaching. The pair were surrounded.
Lawrence shouted, “Shoot everything! Don't let any of them live!”
The earsplitting volley of gunshots echoed through the basement. The bullets tore through their targets, ripping through the limbs and torsos of the undead. Lawrence brutishly kicked the kneecap of an approaching zombie, the bone popped back and the zombie staggered to its knees. Without any hesitation, he shot the zombie's head at point-blank range. The pieces of brain and skin splattered across the machinery and Lawrence's uniform.
As the zombie's body immediately went limp, Lawrence glanced at Manny and instructed, “Aim for the head!”
Manny pushed towards the basement's only exit – the rickety stairs. He shot the zombies at point-blank range, aiming for the center of their brows with each precise shot. The lifeless bodies plummeted to the blood-drenched floor as Manny's bullets viciously tore through their thick skulls.
As he finally approached the first step, Manny looked towards Lawrence and shouted, “Hurry! The coast is clear! Damn it, get over here!”
As he fought off the relentless horde, Lawrence quickly glanced towards Manny and yelled, “I'm coming! Watch my back!”
As a zombie crawled towards him, Lawrence caught a glimpse of the washing machine beside him. The washing machine door squealed as it flung open. Lawrence tightly gripped the long black hair on the crawling zombie, then shoved his head into the machinery. With all of his might, he slammed the door on the undead's dome. The round glass shattered with the following blow. Shards of glass were viciously jabbed into the zombie's disfigured face. Lawrence pulled the undead out, then kicked him aside.
Lawrence blindly fired the final round in his shotgun into the darkness, then turned towards the exit. His eyes widened as he felt the powerful grip on his ankle. He felt the burdensome weight clinging to his leg as he stumbled forward. He looked back and saw a pale-skinned zombie tightly grasping his foot and ankle.
Lawrence helplessly crawled forward and yelled, “Get him! Manny, shoot him! Shoot him now!”
Manny watched in fear and awe as the zombie chomped into Lawrence's Achilles tendon. The undead man callously bit down on Lawrence's heel cord, then pulled his head away. Blood spurted and oozed from the vicious wound on his ankle. Lawrence wildly bellowed as tears streamed down his scarlet cheeks and as his leg violently trembled. He helplessly reached for Manny as his body was overrun by the crawling zombies.
Puffy eyed, Manny shook his head and murmured, “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
Manny scampered up the stairs as tears spurted from his eyes. His body was drenched in sweat and droplets of blood were scattered across his face and uniform. He leaned on the basement door behind him, then clasped his palms on his ears, but to no avail. Lawrence's shrill, blood-curdling shrieks penetrated through the makeshift plugs.
Manny whispered, “I'll get them for you, man. I swear, we'll come and kill all of these bastards for you. They're all dead.”
Manny
wiped the tears from his cheeks as he marched down the hall towards the building's entrance. He tightly gripped the radio on his chest as he deeply contemplated calling for backup. His mind raced with uncertain thoughts and melancholic regret. As he approached the exit, a dreadful groan shattered his contemplation. His eyes widened as he turned to his left.
Abruptly, a young woman leaped onto Manny, then chomped into his neck. Manny gritted his teeth and grunted as the woman relentlessly gnawed into him. He lifted his handgun and placed it to her temple, then shot her. The woman plummeted towards the floor. Manny immediately turned towards the woman, then fired another round into her back. His breathing intensified as he examined his attacker. The woman wore a gray sleeveless shirt and a revealing skirt.
As he rubbed the grisly wound on his neck, Manny muttered, “Damn it... Damn it... Not like this. Please, not like this...”
Manny helplessly trudged through the doorway. He inhaled deeply as he sat at the top step of the damp stoop. He sighed as he absently stared into the engulfing mist. The impenetrable fog swallowed the small town. Ghastly groans reverberated through the desolate streets from every dreary corner. The sound of faint, shambling footsteps plodding in puddles slowly increased as they gradually approached the abandoned apartment complex.
Manny's bottom lip quivered as he quietly whimpered. He grimaced from the physical and emotional agony. The surrounding sounds were dreadful, the ambiance was ominous. He tightly gripped his firearm, then placed the barrel to his trembling chin. As tears streamed down from his tightly clenched eyes, Manny pulled the trigger – click!
“No, no, no...” Manny rapidly cried as he found his final bullet was squandered. As the sound of the basement door shattering echoed into the desolate street, Manny opened his eyes and whispered, “Shit...”
Day 5 - December 27 th, 2015
Searching For A Cure
Dress shoes and high heels clicked and clanked on the pristine white tile flooring. The bright fluorescent lights gleamed off the stainless white walls and spotless floors. Bulky lab coats swayed and whooshed with every hurried step, the long white coats rustled in-and-out of the rooms.