by Kirk Withrow
It was now Reams’ turn to seize up as his thoughts drifted to his older brother, Cedric. Cedric was, or perhaps had been, a sheriff’s deputy in town when it first started. He called Reams and indicated that something bad was going on, and that he should gather some supplies and hunker down until things settled. He provided no further information, however, and Reams didn’t get too worked up over the warning. Reams assumed it was probably something to do with the H5N1 scare so the last thing he planned to do was go to a crowded shopping center to get supplies, and who knows what else from all the people there.
The following day, heedless of Cedric’s warning, Reams went to work. That afternoon when Cedric called to check on Reams he was mortified to find out Reams had not taken his advice. “Dammit, Reams! This is no joke, the situation’s worse than I thought. We were ordered to set up a barricade on County Road 35 just before the bridge in order to staunch the flow of traffic expected to detour around the clogged interstate. People are trying to evacuate from some of the bigger cities all at once making travel by car damn near impossible. We were there for less than an hour before the mass of people got out of hand and surged our forward position, forcing us to fall back across the bridge to consolidate our forces. I’ve never seen folks acting like this before. Fighting and even killing…” Cedric paused for a moment unable to speak. Reams felt a queasy, tingling sensation course through his body as his autonomic nervous system momentarily faltered before reluctantly deciding to continue supporting his body.
The cacophony Reams heard in the background during the lull in their conversation indicated the situation at Cedric’s position had not improved. At that moment, Reams heard the unmistakable burst of automatic weapons fire followed by agonizing moans of pain so loud they made Reams look around nervously to see where they were coming from. During a break in the chaos on the other end of the line, Reams thought he heard Cedric softly weeping.
“Reams, I shot a man and his boy. I asked them to stop, but they just kept coming. They weren’t armed other than with sticks and clubs. The whole mob just came surging forward through our lines. I was taken down and nearly trampled. When I got up, I shot them. God help me, I shot them both. We shot so many of them.” Again Cedric broke into tears, though this time his sobs were much louder.
“Cedric, where the hell are you now? What is going on?” Reams yelled into the phone. His questions were answered only with Cedric’s steady sobs and what sounded like the low murmuring of prayer.
“Cedric! Cedric! Answer me, dammit!”
All at once the sobbing ceased, replaced with the sharp inhalation of air that is the unmistakable sign that one has just witnessed the unimaginable. “Holy Mother! Reams, get the hell out of here!” Cedric bellowed into the phone with all the urgency and intensity of a man on fire. The obstreperous scene Reams heard unraveling on the other end of the phone was beyond comprehension. The thunderous roar of a thousand awful things advancing coupled with guttural, growling moans briefly conjured images of William Wallace and the Scottish armies heading into battle, but Reams knew something far more nefarious was unfolding.
After the call dropped and the line went dead, Reams tried unsuccessfully to call his brother several more times. That was the last time Reams used a telephone.
Recounting the high points of Cedric’s story, Reams continued, “I think they tried to get a handle on things, but I think the battle was lost before they even knew the war started. You see, I think a lot of law enforcement and military folks knew something bad was happening but weren’t given much information beyond that. If anyone knew anything it seems it was held in reserve, making the guys on the ground like lambs sent to slaughter. I can’t say how things went down anywhere else because phones and television went down shortly after, but I bet that same horrible play unfolded everywhere this thing hit. ”
“The week before this thing really got underway there were some strange things being reported around the country, not quite rioting, but definite civil unrest and even some violent attacks. Much of the country’s infrastructure apparently took a hit as people, either sick or scared, failed to show up to work. Grocery store inventory bottomed out, as the deliveries weren’t kept up. Fuel became harder to come by for the same reason. It was just like pouring gasoline on a fire. At the time it was chalked up to panic over the H5N1 flu and encephalitis epidemic, but I think we can safely say that’s a bunch of shit! There were similar stories coming out of Brazil and a few other countries, but they seemed to be faring better overall.”
John nodded, remembering the concern in Rebecca’s voice as she told him about some of the reports one evening.
Continuing, Reams said, “The day before the stations went off the air there was a definite shift in the tone of the reports. They certainly didn’t show anything like this, but it was the first time they hinted something else might be at play. Bigger cities like Chicago, New York, and Los Angeles all enacted curfews and increased law enforcement presence. It seemed like it was touching off everywhere, then everything went dark. Almost all at once the television, radio, and phones all failed. How can that happen?”
After a brief pause, John said, “Reams, I’m sorry about your brother, I had no idea…”
Reams nodded his appreciation for the condolence.
“Why the hell do you think they are all pressed up against the fence like that?” John asked.
Considering this, Reams spoke, “On the second day, there was an explosion as a guy was siphoning some avgas for his plane. The dumb shit was smoking and flipped his smoke away just before starting to fill his tanks. He didn’t see it slowly rolling back to him, smoldering the whole way. I was watching the mass of them when I saw it, but it happened before I could even try to warn him. I was able to get to the main fuel shutoff before the whole damn place went up. Before the explosion there were only a few of them in the lot, and they were scattered around milling about aimlessly. A bunch more showed up after that. Today there are even more, and I’m betting they showed up after you landed. You see, I think noise draws them almost like a dinner bell. I don’t think they see too well, as I have been able to sneak past a few without too much cover as long as I kept quiet. I’m not sure about their other senses.”
John considered Reams’ words and was surprised he had not noticed the burned-out shell of the plane amid the scorched debris of the inferno when he came in last night. He studied Reams for a moment, amazed at how much the man was able to observe in such a short period of time. Compelled to extract all the knowledge gained from his experience over the last few days, John proceeded. “You mentioned you thought it spread through direct contact. You mean like a GI bug or something? You sure it’s not airborne transmission like the flu? Have you seen anyone who was exposed or who was attacked that did okay?”
Upon hearing these questions, Reams stiffened with a set jaw and a firm, distant gaze that wordlessly conveyed the terrible answer John feared would follow. Through the universal understanding of nonverbal communication that comes through millennia of shared human experience, John knew the answers well before Reams uttered a single, terse word.
“No.”
After a moment, Reams expounded upon his answer. “When someone is attacked, they either break free or get torn to shreds. To be honest, I’m not sure who has the worse fate. The guy who manages to get away with minimal injuries seems doomed to join their ranks unless he is smart enough to put himself down. Those that know what’s coming are probably too chicken shit to take care of business or don’t have the means with which to do so. Worse still, either through sheer ignorance or plain selfishness, the injured person can rejoin a group of healthy folks only to become one of those things and start the cycle again from the inside. On the first day, I saw a man fighting one of those bastards off so his family could get to safety on the other side of the airstrip. His family made it to their van, and he joined them after dispatching the thing. I don’t know if he didn’t have the keys or what, but the van never started
. Before long the van began rocking violently, and in minutes, all the windows were completely obscured by…” Reams trailed off as the words he was trying to liberate lodged in his throat. “After a few moments the van quit shaking.”
After a pause, Reams added, “You saw those things mashed up against the fence. I don’t think it is possible to recover from that. I’m not the doctor, but even if you killed the infection or treated whatever the hell is causing this, those people can’t recover. The infection has got to be the only thing that is keeping them up and going. Many of them have injuries that shouldn’t be compatible with life.”
Absorbing the horrible reality that Reams just detailed, John let out a resigned sigh knowing the big man was probably right. “What resources do we have?” Given the enormity of the mass of infected at the fence, John knew the answer to this question would leave them both feeling a bit underdressed for the occasion.
Shaking his head slowly, Reams began, “We have plenty of tools that can be used as melee weapons, a couple of flashlights, the binos, a little food and water, a flare gun and a few road flares, and of course we have planes. We could just load up and get the hell out of here.”
John hadn’t really considered that as he was so focused on heading into the storm rather than running away from it. No matter how logical and enticing it might be to simply go far away, John knew he could never do that without either saving his family or discovering their fate.
“All right,” said John, taking a mental tally of the items and trying to shape them into a viable plan. “What skills do we have to work with? You can obviously charge through damn near anything and rip the head off of everything else!” John said with a slight smirk.
“Funny. I can fix most anything, especially planes, and I can fly some too. I have a little police training as I was initially planning to join the force with my brother before I had a little disagreement with some country asshole at the academy. And yes, I am big enough the kick the shit out of most things, especially scrawny-ass white boys,” Reams said with a cold glare so intense John could almost feel the aforementioned beating.
John made a hard, effortful swallow as Reams cut back in, “Aw come on, John! Don’t you think if I was gonna kick your ass I would have already done it! You white boys never change!”
With the vise in his throat loosening by huge degrees, John replied with the whitest thing he could think of, “Touché.”
Reams guffawed and rolled his eyes.
“I’ve never received any formal military or law enforcement training, but I have done some self-defense training, Krav Maga mostly, and my father was an overbearing military man which is almost the same as going to boot camp,” John relayed. “Of course, I can fly as well.”
“And you’re a doctor,” Reams added a little amazed that John had left that fact out. “What the hell do you think these things are, doctor?”
John didn’t reply for a moment, and then said with a downcast gaze, “I don’t know, man. Maybe they are sick, but I think it has to be more than that. They’re almost like revenants or something.”
“Rev-a-whats?” asked Reams.
John replied, “Revenants, you know, animated corpses? Kind of like Caligari but worse.”
Reams thought about this a moment before shaking his head and muttering, “Those things definitely ain’t sleepwalking.”
“Revs…” added Reams for good measure.
Over the next several minutes, John outlined a plan that he hoped would culminate in their successful escape from the airport. Though, in general, he thought their chances of survival would be greatest if they stuck together, the first stage of his plan involved them splitting up. Reams had the keys to his truck, and it had nearly a full tank of gas. Unfortunately, it was parked in the gated employee lot on the other side of the public lot. That lot was currently home to over fifty revs, all eagerly awaiting the opportunity to sample the cuisine of John and his new companion. On each side of the lot stood a three-story building with a solid, brick wall facing the parking lot; to the rear was a wide stream with an open field beyond.
John continued, “We have them beat when it comes to reasoning and all other higher brain function. They clearly have us in the numbers department and the fact that they don’t seem to fatigue. We have a singular goal that at present is getting your truck, and they have a singular goal that is attacking any living human. Unfortunately, right now we are the only embodiment of ‘human’ they know, so we have their undivided attention. It’s not because it’s you or me specifically, it’s only because no one else has shown up to dinner. You follow?”
Reams gave a slight nod indicating he did. “You saying we just need to find someone else to throw to the revs as a decoy, John?” the big man bellowed with a hint of disgust in his voice.
To this John instantly replied, “Hell, no! This is our fight, and I’m only talking about us. We only need to make them think someone else has shown up to the party.”
And with that, Reams saw John’s plan unfolding.
“We’ll split apart with you holding this position until I clear a path to your truck. Stay up on the roof with the binos until you see their ranks begin to shift away, then make your way around the back of the hangar and toward the fence. Wait until you are certain you will have enough time to clear the fence, cross the lot, and get through the next fence to your truck before you leave the hangar. Understand?” asked John, feeling a little intimidated at telling the big man what to do.
With a firm nod of his huge head, Reams affirmed his understanding of his part of the plan. “What are you gonna do?” he added, a bit nervous about the answer.
“I’m going to ring the dinner bell,” John exclaimed.
Reams immediately began to shake his head in protest.
Raising a placating hand to stifle any further objection, John finished outlining his haphazard plan.
“I’m going to head out the front and cross the strip to hangar four on the other side. Once there I will make as much noise as possible and light one of the road flares before I enter the building. I want them to think there is plenty for everyone to eat inside. If what you’ve told me is correct, that should start a frenzied migration toward the far side of the fence, allowing you enough time and space to get to your truck safely. My biggest concern is whether hangar four is locked?” John concluded with darkening his face.
“I wouldn’t fret over that too much,” said Reams as he held up a key with the number 4 clearly displayed on the key ring. They shared a brief smile and began readying themselves for their escape. “How are you gonna get to the truck?” added Reams.
“I’m not. I figured you could bring the truck to me. As long as I can keep their attention focused on me, they should stay pressed up against the fence on the opposite side of the lot, giving you plenty of room to maneuver out and around to the back of hangar four where I’ll meet you. The noise of the truck may draw their attention, but they seem too slow for that to matter much. Got it?” John concluded with a level of certainty that indicated this was going down whether Reams got it or not.
“Once we’re on the road it shouldn’t take much longer than ten minutes to get to my house and get my wife and kid. Where do you live, Reams?” said John.
“Not far, but I got no reason to go there. We need to get somewhere safe after that, if anywhere safe still exists,” added Reams.
“I know of just the place. Well, I don’t know if it is safe there for sure, but there is sure as hell plenty of supplies and equipment there. A friend of mine, Al, lives about thirty minutes outside of town and has been preparing for something like this for a while now,” said John.
This caused a surprised look of confusion to blossom on Reams’ face before John explained. “Well, not something exactly like this, but at least something catastrophic. In fact, this particular scenario might be the only one I don’t recall hearing him rant about over the last few years. Al is one of the smartest guys I know and definitely the nicest. The
re isn’t anything he wouldn’t do for anyone, even complete strangers. He’s just very paranoid. Not in a ‘needs medication, hearing voices kind of way,’ but more like an ‘eternally pessimistic, government is going to kill us all’ sort of way.”
Albert Forrester worked primarily from home as a software engineer and managed to amass a fair amount of money over the last few years. After tiring of life in a cubicle and being politely asked to vacate his desk due to persistent unauthorized changes that continually appeared in the code of essentially every project he worked on, Al set out on his own. His company, which was almost entirely automated and consisted primarily of him with a few other guys he sourced when needed, would frequently get huge contracts that never took him much time to complete. Needless to say he had a great deal of free time to surf the web and think about the end of the world. He also had a great deal of money with which to invest in the impending cataclysm.
“Anyway, I could tell you stories about Al all night, but for now, they will have to wait. You good with the plan?” John concluded, smirking as he reminisced about his good friend.
“I got it. Just be safe out there, John. I haven’t seen any revs on this side of the fence in a while other than Hasker, and you don’t have to worry about him. They don’t seem to have enough sense to set up an ambush or anything, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there hidden out of sight. And John, I have no idea what’s inside hangar four,” Reams said with a look of concern every bit as forlorn as if John just informed him he was going to stage dive right into the horde itself.
“Revs, huh? That what we’re going to call them?” asked John as his thoughts skipped back to the word like a CD player suffering a sharp jolt.
Reams shrugged but didn’t reply otherwise.
“Good a name as any I suppose,” added John.
Their preparations were brief as they had little to gather. John felt his present corazon was fueled by a frail resolve as fragile as a china doll perched precariously on the edge of a high shelf, waiting to plunge hopelessly to its inevitable fate of shattering into a million pieces. John crammed the flares into his pockets and grabbed a couple makeshift weapons – a claw hammer in his left hand and a 3-foot long crowbar in his right. Reams hurriedly stuffed everything he could fit into a large duffel bag he found by the employee lockers. Just as John was about to remind him he was going to have to carry the immense, overloaded bag by himself, Reams flipped it up and onto his back with no more effort than if he were toting a bag of groceries. Amazed by the big man’s strength, John watched as Reams snatched the handle of the five-gallon water jug, hoisting it up with similar ease. When he noticed John staring at him, Reams said in a slightly defensive tone, “What? I drink a lot of water.”