by Oliver, Carl
“Don’t worry about her.” Paul said gently “She’s taking this all pretty rough.”
“It’s okay.” Jessica said, her voice still full of empathy.
Tyler had only half listened to the story. Right around the time when Paul had been telling about when they were fleeing the hotel, Tyler had started thinking about slim jims. He remembered that Randy Savage, the Macho Man, had been a spokesperson for the meat snack for a long time. He had never particularly enjoyed them, but he had developed a monumental drunken craving for them over the course of the last two minutes.
Paul rose to follow Irene and calm her down, and Tyler rose and moved in the opposite direction to retrieve slim jims he believed were stuffed into the seat-back pocket of the passenger side of the escalade.
“Where you going?” Chris asked as Tyler began jogging toward the escalade.
“I gotta ‘snap into a slim jim’.” Tyler tried to do his best impression of the iconic Macho Man Randy Savage, but it just came off sounding more like “I gotta stopin toes lim-jim.” which had everyone confused except for Justin, who put it together based on the fact that he had just eaten the slim jim and had thought about the late, great Mr. Savage as well.
Despite the fact he made no sense as he ran away, nobody immediately followed Tyler. He arrived at the escalade and found that the slim-jims were not where he remembered them. Thankfully he found Scoobi Doo fruit snacks and a half empty bottle of what he believed was water, but was actually straight tequila. With a mouthful of colorful fruit snacks, Tyler didn’t even mind and swallowed a mouthful of the tequila, feeling the hard burn as it ran down his throat. Tyler waited a moment as he felt a burp that he was concerned might be the fruity Scooby, Shaggy and the gang coming right back up, but thankfully it was just a burp.
Tyler dug around in the backseat and found a few more snacks to munch on, when he heard a distinct noise.
Thump thump thump.
Tyler stepped away from the escalade and looked back to the park. His group was sitting around the picnic tables, and Paul and Irene were further away, hugging and crying. Tyler was convinced he had just imagined the noise, until he heard it again.
Thump Thump.
Two distinct thumps. Tyler mumbled a quiet “Hello?” while he looked around. He felt the hairs at the back of his neck stand up when he heard the noise again, but more somehow insistent.
Thump thump thump thump.
Tyler began looking around frantically.
“Hello? I can hear you. Keep making noise, I’ll find you.” Tyler began walking around the back of the escalade, there were a couple other cars parked on the street, but he didn’t see anyone. He was making his way toward the front of the SUV when he heard the thumping again. It was easy to tell where it was coming from now.
The trunk of the Honda Accord.
****
When asked later, Tyler was unable to answer exactly why he did what he did next. Seemingly forgetting everything that had happened in the last forty eight hours, along with the fact that this vehicle belonged to two strangers they had just met, Tyler ran up to the drivers side of the car, pulled the door open and quickly found the trunk release button. There was a familiar click sound and he ran back to the rear of the car as the trunk raised slightly.
Tyler pulled open the trunk of the Accord, to find what looked like a bundle of white sheets piled up in the trunk. Remembering the Scooby Doo candies he just ate, Tyler’s tequila fueled mind began building a scenario where Paul and Irene were trying to scare them out of town by making them believe that there were ghosts haunting the town. Tyler was halfway through this scenario when the sheets fell aside and the face of a little boy looked up at him from the trunk. In his exhausted, intoxicated state, Tyler was caught off guard as the little boy’s eyes flew open. They were the foggy grey, but it looked as though they had been bright green at one point in time. Tyler forgot his caution and began reaching into the trunk to help the little boy out.
In the park, Irene saw Tyler reaching into their trunk, and she began to scream and run towards her car. Scott thought he heard the words “my baby.” But everything she was screaming really was just all running together. Tyler fell backwards as the little boy who had once been Max Steger sunk his teeth into Tyler’s forearm. Tyler screamed in pain and shock, surprised at how such a small person could have such a strong bite. Max was on top of Tyler now, lunging, trying to get at his throat. On his back, between the rear of the Accord and the front of the Escalade, Tyler was easily able to overpower the small boy. Grabbing the small arms at the wrist, Tyler positioned both feet into the boy’s stomach, the same move he pulled on a much larger Max Westin less than an hour earlier. The effects this time were more pronounced, as the body of little Max Steger was thrown nine feet, crunching as it hit the hard cement curb.
Tyler was climbing to his feet, trying to stem the flow of blood from his injured forearm, as Irene reached the prone body of her former son. Seeing him lying lifeless, she turned on Tyler and continued screaming.
“What did you do to my baby!? He was sick, he needed a doctor and you killed him!?” Tyler was fairly certain that the woman was about to attack him with all the fury she was capable of, when Paul spoke from behind her.
“‘Renie, honey, he’s moving. He’s still alive.” Irene whirled to face Paul as he was cradling up Max’s body. She could see that his tiny hands were twitching.
“Is he okay? Let me see him.” Irene reached out and began to take Max’s body from her husband, when Paul let out a loud yelp. He dropped Max’s body and began grabbing at his right arm, just above the elbow. His wrinkled stafford shirt was turning red, a look of shock covered his face.
Irene went to grab Max from where he fell to the ground again, her maternal instinct taking over. She didn’t hear her husband begin to warn her, she picked up her son to hold him against her chest. Max’s teeth sunk hungrily into her neck, tearing open her jugular vein. A final look of panic and horror covered her face while blood shot from the gaping wound in her throat. She fell to the ground while her son continued to drink the blood running from her throat.
“Oh god, Irene. Why?” were the last words that Paul Steger said before his face went, and he fell to the ground, convulsing.
****
Tyler stood between the Accord and Escalade. He hadn’t moved since he was sure he would be attacked by a forty year old woman. His friends had run over from the park, but they kept a safe distance from the scene of death in front of them.
“What happened?” Scott called out
“Ummm...I think they lied about having to kill their son. Or they did a pretty terrible job at it. One of those two things.” Tyler called back, his brain feeling a little foggy from the mixture of adrenaline, shock and alcohol.
“Are you okay?” Chris shouted, a note of concern in his voice.
“Well, so long as you don’t think you’re going to turn into a zombie, I think I’ll be okay. He bit me, but not so bad that I’m going to bleed out or anything.”
“You got bit?” Amy shouted, anger and fear both coming through in her voice. Tyler noticed for the first time that she had a rifle, although he had no idea where she had gotten it from. He didn’t remember seeing it in the park.
“Ummm, yeah. But Chris got bit yesterday, and he’s totally fine. Whatever it is, I don’t think it’s communicable.” Tyler shouted back, holding his hands up as a natural instinct from seeing a gun. Tyler wasn’t able to explain further, as the boy zombie rose from the kill he had just made, and began to look back and forth between Tyler and the rest of the group.
Does it want to go for the easier meal, a single person, or the bigger meal, a whole group of people?
It turns out that Max Steger must have been pretty hungry, as he stepped over the prone body of his father and began stumbling through the grass toward the group. Tyler was surprised at his speed. His little zombie legs didn’t seem to be as affected as the adult zombies he had seen. His gait was smoother
and quicker. He was moving at what Tyler imagined was about half his normal top speed, back when he was a human child.
The group began to scatter, everyone running in different directions.
Good, Tyler thought, we can spread out and then outrun him.
Tyler’s semi drunk plan fell apart, when he saw that Amy had was not running. Tyler thought that she must be so scared she can’t run. “Save her” flashed through his brain. Tyler began to take his first step toward her, when he saw the look on her face.
Tyler knew the look. Her features were set, eyes focused, and a slight smile hiding in the corners of her mouth. Tyler knew the look because it went along with a feeling he had just experienced for the first time. But this didn’t make sense, the situation was all wrong.
With everyone else running, the zombie focused in on the closest prey. Amy stood with her feet offset and slightly less than shoulder width apart, her shoulders relaxed and the rifle held out in front of her. Tyler saw her shoulders rise as she took a deep breath.
When the zombie was ten feet away, she clicked off the safety. Tyler expected her to lower the rifle and shoot, but she didn’t. She just stood there, staring at the blood thirsty monster before her. Tyler wanted to shout her name, to snap her out of whatever hypnosis she was in. That was the only explanation for why she wasn’t running away, for why she wasn’t defending herself. She should be running, but instead she’s standing there smiling like it’s her birthday.
As the zombie closed to three feet, Amy lashed out with her right foot, catching the him squarely in the chest. The zombie child fell back hard. It was starting to climb back to it’s feet when Amy quickly aimed the rifle and fired, point blank, between the eyes.
Tyler was the only one who saw the bright, terrifying, slightly insane smile on Amy’s face.
****
Tyler began trotting over to her, feeling relief that this was all over. He was just passing around the body of Irene and Paul, when Paul suddenly sat bolt upright. A loud moan escaped his lips and Tyler jumped back in surprise.
“Paul? Are you okay? Paul, say something.” Tyler asked sheepishly. Paul’s response was a guttural groan.
Tyler ran past him and up to Amy. When in doubt, hide by the crazy lady with a gun.
“Paul. Say something.” Amy repeated Tyler’s command with more force than he had used. The rest of the group was coming back behind Amy as well. Paul struggled to his feet, and turned to face the group. His eyes, previously a golden hazel, now had the same grey fog as his son’s. Amy pulled back the bolt action on her rifle, and slammed home another slug into the chamber. Stepping forward to her target, Amy pulled the trigger and Paul Steger’s face exploded into a hot mess of purple and pink goo and white bone.
Paul fell to the curb in a heap, and the entire group of friends let out a collective sigh of relief. Amy pulled back on the bolt action once more. Tyler was about to tell her that he was pretty sure that Irene was already dead, when she turned and pointed the barrel of the rifle at his head. Tyler felt shock and panic and fear, but was secretly proud that he didn’t collapse into a fetal position this time around.
“You got bit, then he got bit. You mind explaining to me how the fuck your brain is still working?” Tyler noticed how bright her blue eyes were for the first time as she sighted him down the barrel of the rifle.
“Let’s all take a breather here, for just one second.” Scott tried to calm down the situation without much success. He knew better than to make a move towards Amy or her rifle. She had just shot one man in the head, after all.
“How about we all just accept that we don’t know what the fuck is going on?” Justin squeeked as he was becoming a little bit hysterical.
“That’s not good enough for me. I’m not going to get eaten in my sleep.” Amy made an aggressive step toward Tyler. The rifle went from being aimed in the general direction of his head, to directly between his eyes. “The kid bit you, bit Paul, then tore out his mom’s throat. His bite wasn’t any worse than yours, but he turned into one of those things. How are you still standing?” Amy continued moving forward. The barrel of the gun was only an inch away from Tyler’s now sweating face.
“I don’t know, okay? I don’t know why the fuck any of us are still alive. What was so different about us. I don’t know if it’s some dumb luck or our blood type or the fact that we all got chicken pox when we were kids or what it is. I just know that the world ended, and we’re still here.”
“That’s not good enough for me.” Amy pressed the barrel of the gun into Tyler’s forehead, Tyler winced in fear. The barrel was hot. Not hot enough to singe his skin, but warm enough to remind him that she had just shot a little boy and his dad in the head. “What did you do differently?” Tyler’s mind drew a blank, and for a moment he was a little depressed by the fact that his life wasn’t really flashing before his eyes. The only thing he could think was that he wished he could have had pancakes one last time. Tyler then felt stupid that this final wish might be his last thought. Tyler could see Amy’s finger beginning to squeeze the rifle’s trigger, when a noise stopped her.
The noise started deep, a heavy rumble, then moved up and it took Tyler a few seconds to realize that the noise was coming from Chris. Chris had doubled over in pain. Tyler panicked, as he thought that this was basically the worst possible time for Chris to turn into a zombie. It took a few hours for the virus to affect him, but he’s turning and going to start moaning like those monsters.
As Tyler was resigning his life with these thoughts, Chris continued making the noise, causing Jessica and Justin, who were standing closest, to back away slowly. The noise eventually evolved into the deep laughter that everyone had long associated with Chris. The laughter caught Amy off guard, and she lowered her rifle away from Tyler for a moment, but never turned her head far enough to lose him from her peripheral vision.
Between heaving breaths and laughter, Chris was finally able to choke out a few words. “Oh god...so damn funny.”
It wasn’t pain then? He wasn’t turning? It was just laughter?
Understanding dawned on her, and Amy shouted with anger. “You figured it out?” But the laughter spasms had taken him over again, and he wasn’t able to speak, only to nod his head. Over the next minute his laughter finally began to die away, and he lay face up on the ground, chest heaving for breath.
“Oh shit.” Chris let out a long sigh before going on. “You’re all going to want a drink before I tell you.”
****
“Okay. Do you want to know why we’re still here, or how I figured it out?” Chris was sipping from a tumbler of whiskey that looked far too classy for a picnic. The six friends were sitting around a picnic table in the park. He had been serious that everyone should have a drink in their hands before he explained. Amy was the only who really put up a fight with this, but she eventually agreed to have a bottle of tequila available to her, although it was sitting on the table, sealed.
“They’re not one in the same?” she said angrily, the rifle still clutched between her small hands, aimed in the general direction of Tyler.
“Okay, explanation first.” Chris said, a note of excitement in his voice. “The four of us have no recollection of what may have happened the night that this all started because we were blacked out drunk.” Chris started chuckling again, but when he saw the look on Amy’s face, he cut his laughter short. “Scott and I have been talking for a while, and there’s a few rules to epidemics I learned from a Discovery channel special. Virus based epidemics spread slowly, following the roads and other major forms of transportation over time, because people are the carriers typically. Mosquito and other pest based usually follow a fanning out pattern, because they don’t follow the same rules of transportation as people.
“So you don’t think it’s a virus, or some kind of bug bite. I could have told you that. Viruses don’t kill everyone in the same night, and bugs don’t spread this fast.” Jessica was starting to get annoyed as well, she had bare
ly touched the beer that Scott had conscientiously placed in front of her.
“Well fine, I still haven’t figured out exactly where it came from, or what it is, but I know why we don’t have it.” Chris stated, clarifying.
“Why were we left alone?” Amy asked, frustration and urgency in her voice. Chris didn’t respond, he simply toasted her with his tumbler of whiskey and winked.
There was a long pause of uncomfortable confusion, and Scott suddenly made a loud groaning noise.
“Egggghhhhhhhhhhh. Are you fucking kidding me!?” Scott shouted, his face lighting up. Before saying another word, he grabbed the craft beer in front of him and slammed the entire thing. He threw the glass bottle over his shoulder and started laughing. The bottle bounced harmlessly through the grass, and Chris joined him in another good round of laughter.
“You guys mind actually explaining what the fuck is so funny?” Amy’s patience was wearing thin. She looked angrily from Justin to Tyler, both looked as confused as she felt. After another few seconds of laughter, it was Scott who began explaining.
“The one thing that all six of us, or eight if we count our recently lost companions, have in common, is that we were drinking alcohol the night that this all started.” Scott let the statement hang in the air, waiting to see if it was enough of an explanation. Jessica broke the silence.
“No. Paul and Irene didn’t say anything about drinking when they told us what happened.”
“Okay, with them it’s an assumption. But they line up a babysitter to spend the night while they’re at a dinner party within walking distance to their hotel. I think it’s fair to assume they had at least a few glasses of wine with their meal.” Chris clarified.
It was starting to click for Amy. “So we didn’t change because we were drunk. Emily didn’t change either, but Adam had changed and was already killing her by the time we found them. What about what just happened here. If Paul didn’t change before, why’d he change now?”