Forest Park: A Zombie Novel

by Jamie Marks

  Steve turned and said, “Humvee what Humvee? What are you talking about?”

  HELP ARRIVES

  “Is that your truck?” the soldier asked, pointing toward the Wolfpac.

  Neither Charlie nor Susan answered him.

  “I said, is that your truck?” the soldier repeated himself as the dead thing convulsed on the ground in front of Susan and Charlie.

  “Yes,” said Charlie, and then added, “It’s a Wolfpac.”

  “Okay, good for you. What I need you to do is ---” he said before Susan interrupted him.

  “You killed him.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” the soldier answered.

  “You drove over him with your monster truck and killed him…”

  “I told you I hadn’t killed anyone, anyone who wasn’t fucked up already. Now I need you to get in your truck and follow me.”

  “Who are you?” asked Charlie.

  “I’m the man you’ll thank later. Captain Louis Tyler of the US Army Corps of Engineers.”

  “Captain who?” Charlie said.

  “Tyler.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” Susan said, “you just murdered, that murderer…”

  “Isn’t that good?” Charlie asked.

  “Then stay here, ma’am, it’s your choice. However, if I were you, I’d play it smart and come with me to Fort Gillem or get on home. It’s not safe being out on the streets,” Tyler said.

  “Fort Gillem,” Susan said as she glanced over to Charlie. “You heard him, Charlie; grab the camera --- we’re moving out!” Susan quickly straightened herself up and smiled at the captain, whom she noticed wasn’t paying her the attention she believed that she warranted.

  “The clock’s ticking,” the captain said as he checked his watch.

  “Charlie, you heard the captain. Move it!” Susan said as Charlie swiftly gave his camera a good once-over.

  “It’s not broken,” Charlie said; his relief was clearly palpable.

  Susan rolled her eyes. “Just move your fat ass, will you?” Susan said as their attacker suddenly stretched out his one remaining good arm and attempted to grab Susan’s ankle, causing her to shriek.

  Susan was about to yell for help until Tyler reversed over the mangled man’s mid-section and on to his head, squelching it flat like a ripe tomato.

  “Did you get a shot of that, Charlie?” Susan asked.

  “No… I was too…” Charlie said, sounding flustered.

  “Jesus, Charlie!” Susan said as she shook her head in frustration.

  “I bet that whole sequence would have rated through the roof anyway.”

  “It better had, Charlie.”

  PROBLEMS WITH NEIGHBOURS

  Steve wrenched Kathy from the couch and pressed her to the window.

  Her feet scarcely touched the ground.

  “Fuck the television, Kathy, have a look out there. I think that woman in the diner who was attacked is the real deal. I’m not saying it was special effects or nothing, just that I saw something similar in the street. Craig was biting that guy from earlier. He killed him --- I think. At least, it looked like it.”

  “What’s happening?”

  They both leaned nearer to the window; Kathy’s nose caressed the glass.

  “I don’t know,” Steve said as they watched Craig slowly rise to his feet and leave the possible corpse of the coughing guy behind. He then began to stumble about his yard.

  It looked as though Craig was attempting to traverse an invisible maze.

  Kathy placed her hand on the windowpane.

  “I think it’s got something to do with the terrorist attack that guy from the CDC was talking about. He said something about illness and violence.”

  “Did he say anything about people becoming even more stupid? He didn’t say it was terrorists ---”

  “How did it get here then?” Steve said as they watched the macabre display across the way.

  “Steve, stop jumping to conclusions. We don’t even know if it’s an IT…” Kathy said.

  As she spoke, the coughing guy sat up slowly and turned his head from left to right.

  “Hang on a second. I don’t think he’s dead.” Steve grabbed Kathy by the hand.

  “I’m going to help this time.”

  Kathy’s eyes opened wide. “Steve, don’t; this doesn’t feel right, what about the flu? God damn it, it was only moments before when you were worried about terrorists,” Kathy pleaded.

  The coughing guy rolled to his side and attempted to stand as they were speaking.

  “We can’t just leave him out there. I’ve had this year’s flu shot. I’ll be fine,” he said.

  “A flu shot is different, Steve --- this is different.”

  Steve made a run for the door.

  “Stop!”

  However, he was gone.

  Kathy watched helplessly as her husband ran across the street and then came to a sudden halt. She pushed her face closer to the windowpane. Her heavy breathing began to obscure her view of what was happening. Kathy quickly wiped the condensation away with her palm.

  From inside the house, Kathy watched as Steve said something to Craig, and then he spoke to the coughing guy.

  For moments, nothing happened.

  Then she heard, “Oh, fuck!” And Steve stepped sharply backwards.

  Then he ran.

  Seconds later, Steve burst into the living room and onto their couch, before the front door could even slam shut behind him.

  He was completely out of breath, more so from panic, Kathy suspected.

  “Steve, what happened?”

  For a minute, and possibly longer, he didn’t move an inch, other than when he inhaled and exhaled --- his unfit chest begun to wheeze.

  “Steve, what happened out there?”

  “Kathy … we’re in deep shit, babe,” Steve said in between wheezing breaths.

  “Steve, I think you’re having a panic attack.”

  “Where are they now, Kathy?” Steve asked as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on his knees.

  Kathy looked out of the window.

  Both Craig and the coughing guy were crossing the street, weaving and stumbling in their direction.

  “They’re coming over here,” she finally said. Then after a long pause, “What the hell is wrong with them?”

  “Kathy, come away from the windows,” Steve said. “Don’t let them see you standing there.”

  “What if they do?”

  “Just don’t.”

  “Oh, because I think they’ve already seen me.”

  “Oh.

  Oh, shit! Kathy, I think they’re both dead, like in the movies.”

  Kathy stared at him dumbfounded. “You’re kidding me, aren’t you? You think this is funny?”

  Kathy looked back out the window at the two men staggering across the road.

  “I’ve never been more serious in my life. I wish we had a gun,” Steve said and then suddenly stood up.

  “What are you doing now?” Kathy asked him.

  “I’m checking the doors.”

  “You’re scaring me, Steve! I’m scaring me…”

  After checking, and rechecking both doors, Steve paused.

  “Steve, you’re frightening me --- stop it,” she said.

  “If you’re scared, Kathy, then I’m terrified!”

  Unexpectedly, a clatter came from the front door --- then a moan.

  The door handle rattled.

  Steve, snatching the television’s remote control, pressed mute.

  Kathy forced her eyes shut and began grinding her teeth, something she hadn’t done since she was a child. It’s a dream; this is bullshit. You’ll wake up in a second, Kath, don’t let it worry you.

  Nobody is outside.

  Soon, you’ll be eating breakfast and joking about this with Steve --- he’ll laugh too. You see dead people! You know he’ll say it.

  Good one.

  “Kath, wait here for a moment.” Steve said.<
br />
  That’s right, stay in bed and sleep it off? Sure will, I am so goddarn tired I could sleep a week anyhow.

  I really could sleep a week.

  “I’m getting my bat, just sit tight. I’ll only be a second.”

  He left Kathy on the couch with her eyes still closed, until... The door handle rattled once more.

  “Please don’t open,” she prayed.

  Kathy, glancing at the television as she prayed saw a news ticker begin rolling across the screen.

  All residents. Please stay inside; do not attempt to provide assistance to your family, friends and neighbors. Emergency services are aware of situations in your area.

  The message repeated over and over --- but once every few minutes, a Coca Cola icon or a McDonald’s symbol appeared within the message. Within hours, more corporations would join the ticker parade.

  So the news ticker starts now, she thought.

  Steve came back into the living room carrying his baseball bat.

  Kathy didn’t speak, and neither did he.

  A scream came from outside. A woman was running along the street wearing a nightgown.

  Her hands were waving around wildly as if she was trying to shoo away a bat.

  As she ran, the woman turned her head and glanced over her shoulder. She looked terrified and had blood streaming down from a gash on her forehead. Moments after she had run by, the clamor at the front door stopped.

  Craig and the coughing guy were leaving, slowly.

  “Oh, God, that poor woman,” Steve said.

  “Would you like another coffee?” Kathy asked. She sounded lost.

  Steve nodded. “That would be nice.”

  Kathy walked out from the living room in a daze.

  They could both do with a brew, and she could make a nice one.

  FOX- 5

  ATLANTA

  A conscience can be a peculiar thing.

  It could take you in directions you wouldn’t normally opt for, such as omitting commercials.

  While hard-hitting serious reporting might win an obscure award once in a while, profit was the name of the game --- the trick was how to bring the two together.

  Profit is God!

  Profit and fat bonuses are what buy you the beach house in Malibu, and the Audi R8 Spyder that sat in the garage.

  That was why Paul Herbert was struggling with his moral compass, which rarely pointed north.

  However, as Jesus is to a miner stuck one hundred feet below, revenue and profit helped Paul make the correct decision.

  “You can’t buy that kind of endorsement,” he said earlier during the online board meeting.

  “We never left you! Every hour, every minute of every second, we provided you with the news you could live by.”

  The corporate heads adored the idea, now they could run the news ticker across the network on every channel and not disrupt the broadcast; in fact, it increased product airtime while scheduled programming continued.

  “Yeah, that’s right, Coke saved your life! It’s a fucking bonanza, who wouldn’t pay for that kind of endorsement?” he said during the meeting.

  He had found a way to bring the two often-mismatched goals of cable news together and was also able to use the word synergy as he did so.

  Paul was thirty-seven, and considered handsome; he also had a knack for making something out of nothing. He was an outside the box thinker.

  Although, he had two serious faults: women and recreational drugs. Not a true fault when you combine the two. In theory, they worked in perfect harmony.

  Tanya was proof to that theory, and unlike Susan, Tanya had shown that she was not only a fantastic piece of ass, but she was also capable of holding her own. Hell, she had to hold her own, no one else showed up!

  None of Paul’s anchormen had driven into the car park that morning, not a single one of them, nor could he get hold of any of them.

  You pay huge dollars for talent; you treat that talent as if they’re your own flesh and blood and then that same talent drops their designer pants and shits all over you.

  Fucking typical!

  However, there was still no chance in hell that he was going to call Susan into the studio --- no way, regardless of how well that diner shit went in the ratings.

  Paul Herbert thanked his lucky stars it was Tanya who was climbing his ladder to success earlier that morning, otherwise --- hell, he didn’t want to think about it. Paul suddenly felt his cell vibrate in his pocket.

  “Hello… Susan.”

  A broad smile crossed his face. “Yes, indeed; it was fantastic work and very suspenseful --- everyone here was on the edge of their seats. Who was the guy driving the Humvee, Susan?”

  Susan answered. He nodded.

  “A captain, no less --- lucky you.”

  Somebody sneezed in the control booth.

  “Fort Gillem? You do land on your feet, don’t you? The rumor is that Fort Gillem’s being reopened due to some old action plan.” Paul then paused as Susan spoke.

  “I don’t know, probably some bullshit from the fifties? Nevertheless, we need conformation, at the moment, it’s only rumor. As soon as you know for sure, you’re on the air.”

  “Paul, Atkins is ready!”

  “Sorry, Susan, I have to go. Roll him, Andy.”

  Susan protested.

  Paul chuckled as he answered her. “Of course, if you were here you’d be in the anchor’s chair, Susan. You were my first choice, not Tanya. You’ll always be number one.”

  That should shut her up.

  He pressed the end call button with his thumb and put the cell back in his pocket.

  It began to vibrate immediately.

  FOREST PARK

  Susan scowled at her cell.

  “Fucking prick won’t answer --- ass hole!” Susan said as she turned her head and saw dark smoke plumes beginning to rise into the sky above Atlanta, while she and Charlie raced behind the Humvee.

  There’s nothing like a crisis to bring out the bad driving in some people, Susan thought as they dodged another car, which appeared out of nowhere.

  The streets were in sudden chaos.

  Wow, it abruptly hit her; this is all happening so fast.

  “Charlie, why wasn’t it this chaotic an hour ago?” asked Susan.

  She was attempting to put Paul behind her as Charlie dodged a delivery van.

  It was difficult though, and too hard for her to drop so easily.

  I could have been the anchor… Global.

  “I don’t know? Maybe everyone had to awaken for the shit to hit the fan?” Charlie said as he swung the Wolfpac around another corner.

  Man she handles well; he was referring to the Wolfpac. If only we were racing through the streets of San Francisco! Charlie thought.

  Steve McQueen style!

  “I don’t get it, though,” Susan said.

  “It’s the difference between big cities and smaller country towns, I think,” Charlie said as he swerved over yet again into the other lane.

  “Atlanta is a 24/7 city, night and day. People would have been out partying, working --- whatever --- when everything started. Country towns are different. People go to bed and wake up. However, it appears like some people have woken up feeling not so well.”

  Susan considered what Charlie was saying. “What do you think was wrong with the guy back there, at the diner?” she asked.

  A smile traversed Charlie’s face as he realized that finally, for once, they were having a real conversation.

  “I don’t know, but I know he wasn’t all sunshine and lollipops in the head,” Charlie said.

  “He looked dead, Charlie, and that butcher’s knife in his back wasn’t great advertising for acupuncture,” Susan said.

  Charlie laughed. “Yeah he looked dead or at least looked pretty sick. I don’t know. I’m not sure what to think.”

  “A knife was sticking out from his back, Charlie, just think about it for a second.”

  Susan saw the Humvee take
another corner and then disappear, but to her surprise, the Wolfpac was beginning to slow.

  “What are you doing?” Susan asked.

  “She looks like she needs help,” Charlie said as they rolled to a stop.

  Susan leaned forward, past Charlie’s belly, and looked out from the driver’s side window.

  A woman with a gash on her forehead was running toward them.

  Blood was streaming down the side of her face and onto her nightgown.

  Susan couldn’t hear what she was saying, but she could read lips --- as well as anyone who knows when someone is yelling the obvious.

  Help me!

  “She needs help, Susan. We have to help,” Charlie said as he motioned to open his door.

  “Charlie, we don’t have to do a goddamn thing other than follow the guy in the Humvee.”

  “We can’t just leave her,” he argued.

  In the background, Susan could see more people coming, and they didn’t look normal.

  “See, Charlie, those people are coming to help her now,” Susan lied, or thought she did.

  “Yeah, but what if ---”

  “No ifs and no buts,” Susan said.

  Charlie began to roll forward.

  “What if those guys are…” He didn’t finish his train of thought, but they both knew what he was about to say.

  As he sped away, Charlie glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw a man tackle the woman to the ground.

  There was nothing he could do now.

  THE POLICE CHIEF

  “Do not leave your home to aid relatives or friends. I strongly advise residents to stay off the streets and allow the police, fire department and paramedics to do their jobs,” Atkins said from his side of a split screen partition.

  Behind Atkins, in the background, were the state flag of Georgia and an autographed photograph of Johnny Cash. The man in black was holding his guitar by the neck and looking real damn serious.

  “Are there any theories about the people involved in the attacks throughout Atlanta and across the country that you adhere to?” Tanya asked.

  “I do believe that the poor souls who are committing these attacks are suffering from some kind of mental breakdown. However, I did hear some time earlier, that all this lunacy and violence had something to do with sunspots; but I’m no scientist. I believe in the law, as I believe in the Gospels. And these people are breaking the law.”