Shambling With The Stars

by Jesse Petersen

  Shambling with the Stars

  A Living with the Dead Short Story

  Jesse Petersen

  www.orbitbooks.net

  www.orbitshortfiction.com

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  Shambling with the Stars

  Everyone on their marks, quiet on the set, and…cue Blake.”

  With a sigh, Avery Andrews leaned back in her chair in the control room and watched as Blake Roberts, host extraordinaire, launched into his preprepared monologue to start the telethon. He looked right into the camera, kept his expression the perfect balance of a sad but nonthreatening (and attractive to all demographics) smile, and never missed a mark. Yup, the man was a professional.

  A complete diva, jerk-off…but a professional.

  “Move to camera two,” Avery cued as she glanced at the monitors before her.

  Now the at-home audience would be seeing the long bank of telephones manned by some of the biggest stars in the universe. Hollywood actors and actresses, as well as musicians who either actually gave a shit, or at least were faking it in order to keep their name in the spotlight. Either way, it didn’t matter to Avery. What mattered was that they were here and dressed well (or crazy) enough that they would definitely end up on tomorrow’s episode of Fashion Police, for better or for worse.

  “Put up the number graphic…now,” she said softly.

  As Blake continued talking and the numbers to call and donate flashed across the screen, Avery’s gaze slipped to another monitor on the bank before her. But this one wasn’t one she controlled. No, it was the monitor for NCB news, the mother network of the telethon. It was showing a live feed of the crisis from their twenty-four-hour news network.

  Right now they were showing scenes of utter destruction in Portland, Oregon, as rabid people attacked each other in a hungry bloodbath of torn flesh. Zombies they were being called, though Avery had been given strict instructions by the network brass not to let that term slip out during the night’s event. Whatever they were called, they had already destroyed Seattle, made their way down the coast, and were marching steadily toward Los Angeles.

  But they wouldn’t make it all the way to the town of the stars. Avery couldn’t believe that. And apparently neither could those in the studio, because all these highly insured stars were here in order to raise money for “The Tragedy of the Northwest.” “Outbreak 2010.” “The Sickness.”

  However the CDC wanted to spin it. Oh, and speaking of the Centers for Disease Control…

  “Cue Blake to move to the couches, cut to camera three, and start the interview with Dr. Lithstone,” Avery said into the mike. She watched as her orders were followed in Blake’s smooth style that had made him a breakout star after hosting such reality classics as “Top Singer” and “Dance the B-List.”

  “That man is worth a billion dollars,” her assistant of eight years, Kyle, said with a disbelieving shake of his head as he set a cup of hot coffee on the panel next to her. He sighed and leaned over her shoulder to look at the monitors.

  “Well, he has a billion in assets,” Avery laughed as she smiled her thanks up at her friend. “What he’s worth is something entirely different.”

  “Still…” Kyle began, but he never finished the sentence. Instead, his brow wrinkled and he leaned forward.

  Avery swiveled to see what Kyle was looking at. That look had never meant something good in all their time together.

  “What is Blake doing?” Kyle asked.

  Avery leaned closer and so did everyone else in the control room. The room, which was normally silent except for Avery’s orders about camera switches and position changes, now began to buzz with murmurs from the crew. Avery would have nipped that in the bud if she weren’t mesmerized by what she was seeing on her screen.

  Blake was blinking.

  It didn’t sound weird when it was just put like that, of course. He was human (mostly). He blinked. But this was excessive. Over and over, like he had something in his eye. Like he couldn’t see.

  “Mr. Roberts?” the doctor who was Blake’s interviewee said with a nervous shift. “Are you okay?”

  Blake nodded and flashed that smile again. “Sure, of course. I’m fine. Continue. You were talking about symptoms of the disease that our Northwestern viewers can look for in themselves or family.”

  The doctor nodded, but his voice had begun to squeak from nervousness. “Er, well, of course mainly the disease is spread by bodily contact. A bite from a contaminated individual or even a scratch can start the process of transformation in an otherwise healthy person.”

  “Did you say scratch?” Blake asked, and Avery stared as he reached down to tug the cuff of his ridiculously expensive suit a little lower over his hand.

  “Yes. We’re finding that a scratch has been the only mark present on a few victims,” Dr. Lithstone said, but he was staring rather closely at their host. “The symptoms once they’ve been bitten or scratched include sluggish response time, heightened sense of smell, violent outbursts, and a reddening of the eyes.”

  As if on cue, Blake reached up and rubbed his eye and then looked at the doctor with a sharp expression.

  “Within a matter of anywhere from a few minutes to perhaps half an hour, depending on the severity and location of the injury, the transmutation will be complete and the victim will begin seeking out the flesh of uninfected people.” The doctor sighed. “As far as we’ve been able to determine, there is no cure, but obviously this is very early in the outbreak and I’m sure we’ll come up with something to battle the infection. Our top men are working on it at this very moment.”

  The doctor stared at Blake, who was now just looking at his interviewee. Not usual for the man who now snagged more high profile sit-downs than Barbara Walters.

  Avery leaned forward. “Remind Blake that he’s supposed to point out that part of the proceeds from tonight’s telethon go to that research effort, with the remainder going to outreach and recovery from the disaster.”

  There was a moment’s pause while the floor director relayed her message into Blake’s tiny ear mike. On screen, the host flinched and then reached up and tore the earpiece away, ripping off the padded section and leaving the wire dangling at his shoulder.

  “What the—?” Donna from audio snapped.

  “So once you’re bitten, there’s no hope?” Blake asked and even without the mike to amplify it, his voice sounded thick, like he had a hella bad cold.

  “N-no,” the doctor confirmed, but Avery noticed he was starting to slide away.

  “Then you’re fucked.”

  For one brief, beautiful moment, Avery’s only concern was that Blake had just said the king of swears on national television and that the FCC was going to fine them for it. And then, without warning, Blake dove across the couch and sank his teeth into the doctor’s exposed neck and her concerns about fines vanished in a violent instant. There was a whine of feedback as his teeth severed not only the doctor’s mike, but his jugular, spraying blood across the floor, the white couch (Blake always demanded a white couch), and the doctor’s suit jacket.

  “Oh shit!” Avery squealed as she tore her own headphones off and flung herself to her feet. “Get security in there, get security into the studio, and evacuate the stars and crew now!”

  The room around her erupted into noise. People were screaming orders into their mikes, crying, reaching for cell phones to call their families. It was chaos, but Avery never moved, she just watched the screen as Blake left the half-dead doctor sprawled across the couch, gasping for breath through the gaping hole in his throat.

  With a grunt, Blake spun on his h
eel and made for the telephone bank nearby. Already stars were bailing out, pushing each other down the bleachers where they’d been arranged and running each other over in their hurry to make it out. Singer and former Disney sensation Ali Henshaw had already stepped on Academy Award–winning actor Stephan Cross, leaving a stiletto hole in his hand. He was screaming at her even as they ran toward the fire exit together.

  Screaming that turned from one of anger and pain to pure terror when Blake reached out, grabbed Stephan’s suit jacket and hauled him close to bite his face.

  “Oh jeez! Cut away, cut away!” Avery barked, but then realized wasn’t on mike and that no one in the control room was listening anymore anyway. They were just booking it for the one door that led out.

  “I think it’s time to follow the leader,” Kyle snapped as he grabbed Avery’s arm and started hauling her for the door. “Let’s go, girl.”

  Avery hesitated as she took a final look at the chaos on the screens before her and then let Kyle drag her away. Yeah, seemed there was nothing else she could do here. Already the cameraman for Camera 1 was starting to reanimate…and Avery hadn’t even seen him bitten. And two of the biggest movie stars in the universe were eating the operator of Camera 2 alive. On National Television.

  “I guess we won’t have to worry about ratings,” Avery muttered as she made for the door. Donna from audio had already gotten it open and was peering out into the hallway. “What do you see, Donna?” she whispered.

  The woman turned back with a weak smile. “It’s okay,” she said. “There’s no one out here. We can just—”

  Her sentence was cut off and replaced by a blood-curdling scream as one of the zombies (Avery was fucking calling them zombies now, she didn’t care who got fired for it) lunged out of the unseen area of the hallway and grabbed for Donna. He caught one of her arms and yanked. Donna screamed again and grabbed for the doorjamb, clinging with all her might to the wooden edge and staring into the room with wide, terrified eyes.

  “Oh shit!” Kyle snapped as he dove for her. “Grab her, grab her!”

  A few of the other guys lunged and suddenly three of them had Donna’s other arm.

  “Who the hell is that?” Avery gasped.

  She tilted her head and stared into the hallway at the…creature, because he couldn’t be called human anymore, that clung to her audio tech. It was Chase Howard, one of the most famous and sexy (formerly sexy) men on the planet. He didn’t look great now. Someone had bitten off one of his ears and slashed his face, he was missing a foot. But he was strong as a bull, holding Donna without effort, even as three reasonably strong guys pulled against her.

  “Don’t let me go!” Donna whimpered, clinging to the edge of the door.

  “Pull!” Kyle ordered and all three men strained back, trying to hold her.

  The zombie tugged just as hard, though, clinging to Donna’s arm until Avery could actually see the strain in her blouse. Donna let out a pained yelp as her arm slipped an inch free of her saviors. The zombie reached forward and swiped at the men who were fighting against him. Kyle jumped back and so did another of the audio techs, Reece, but the third man, one of the graphics people named…shit, was it Sven or Stan or Shem? Whatever his name was, he couldn’t scoot back fast enough and the zombie slashed at him, before S-named graphics guy let go of Donna. She was dragged off into the hall.

  Avery forward and grabbed for the door. She peeked out first and down in the dim lights of the hallway she watched in horror as the actor zombie dragged screaming Donna toward a larger group of shambling brain eaters. They groaned in what sounded almost like thanks. Avery shivered and slammed the door shut, locking it with the deadbolt and leaning back against the padded, soundproofed surface with a few panting breaths.

  “Oh my God,” Kyle moaned as he sank down on the floor and stared up at Avery. “Oh my God. It’s here.”

  Avery shut her eyes. Yeah, that was a bit of an understatement and now she felt stupid for ever believing that it couldn’t make it here. That somehow being rich or privileged or famous could stop an infection that was moving so fast and so furious that it could have been part of a Vin Diesel movie. Only Vin Diesel’s secret agent or bank robber with a heart of gold wasn’t going to swoop in and save the day in a CG blast of bald heroism.

  “What are we going to do?” Jenny, one of video techs, moaned as she sank down to her knees on the floor and stared at the monitors that were still running, showing the bloody results of the attack begun by Blake. Every single star and crew member was either torn to shreds or slowly reanimating outside. Now instead of one zombie there were…twenty-five? And that didn’t count any they couldn’t see, like the little pod outside eating Donna for their evening snack.

  “It’s okay, Jenny,” Avery said absently as she continued to stare at the screens. The NCB cable news channel had switched over to replaying coverage from the telethon and was now showing Blake attacking the entire bank of stars with gusto.

  “It’s okay?” audio Reece said, staring at her in disbelief. “No way! I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

  He lunged for the door.

  “No!” Kyle snapped as he grabbed for Reece and pushed him backward. “Don’t be crazy, man! Those things are right out in the hallway and now they know we’re in the room. You open that door and you’ll get yourself killed and maybe get the rest of us killed, too.”

  “We’re already dead,” Jenny sobbed from the floor. “We’re already dead. He might as well open the door and let the zombies in!”

  “Oh, good grief!” Avery said as she turned away and looked at her crew. She had to snap out of her fog and remember that she was the leader of this little group. And obviously they needed her to pull them together. “Get up, Jenny. For God’s sake.”

  Jenny looked up and her, sniffled, and then slowly got to her feet.

  “Good. Now listen. Yes, we’re in a bad way here,” Avery said as she looked over the group and tried to summon her best Henry V for a Saint Crispin’s Day speech. “But right now the door is locked and thanks to the forty million or so people watching the broadcast of the telethon, they know we’re in here. Someone will come to get us. We just have to hang tight and not panic.”

  Audio Reece stared at the door again, then looked to Kyle, then her.

  “Yeah,” he muttered, some of the heat gone from his voice. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Avery said with a shake of her head. “This is a crazy situation. What we just saw, what happened…it’s crazy. But we have to control our response so that it isn’t crazy. Okay?”

  Everyone in the room nodded and for a moment it was silent and tense. Kyle stepped forward and took Avery’s arm, pulling her into the corner.

  “Good job, Miss Leader of the Pack,” he said with a proud smile. “Looks like our gal is growing up.”

  “I’m thirty-five,” Avery laughed. “I’m a slow learner.”

  Kyle shrugged, but then his face fell. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure if your advice is going to hold up.”

  Avery looked up into his face with a frown. “Um, why? You think they won’t come for us?”

  Kyle shook his head. “No, I’m guessing they’ll come eventually, but I’m afraid we won’t be here. See, um, I didn’t want to say anything, but I’m pretty sure that Sven got slashed by that zombie at the door.”

  “Sven,” Avery breathed in relief. “That’s his name.”

  Then she blinked as her friend’s statement sunk in. “Wait, did you say he got slashed?” she whispered as she glanced at the group still standing by the door.

  Reece was pacing and she could see he was still thinking about bolting even though he’d agreed to stay, Jenny was rubbing her arms as she stared at the wall of monitors, and Sven…well, Sven was just standing there, not really looking at anything in particular. And he was holding his own hand, though she wasn’t sure if that was a nervous habit or to cover up the scratch Kyle claimed he’d seen.

  “I don’
t know,” Kyle admitted with a shake of his head. “I mean, I thought I saw blood, but everything happened so fast.”

  Avery swallowed. “But if he was scratched…”

  “That doctor said he’d turn into one of those…things.”

  “Zombies,” Avery said, though her throat was very dry. Reaching out to the control deck, she grabbed the coffee Kyle had brought her and slugged it back. It didn’t help much and tasted like water to her numb senses.

  “We’re not supposed to call them that,” Kyle reminded her.

  Avery stared at him. “Are you afraid you’ll get fired, dude?”

  Kyle hesitated for a minute then shrugged with a weak smile. “I guess job security isn’t tops on my list, no.”

  A nervous giggle escaped Avery’s lips and she sucked in a breath to stop herself from getting hysterical. She was accustomed to high-pressure situations. That was how she’d found success in the entertainment business without screwing her way to the top. She had to get into “director” mode and stay calm.

  That was really the only option.

  “Look, maybe you’re wrong,” she said. “Let’s not get everyone even more hysterical than they already are, okay? I’ll talk to Sven. Can you send him over and then do me a favor and try to make Jenny stop talking to herself?”

  Kyle glanced over his shoulder and sighed as he saw Jenny rocking gently, muttering. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

  He walked away and Avery straightened her spine and shook off her nerves as she watched Sven speak briefly to Kyle, then head her way. As he reached her, she noticed he was sweating even though the room wasn’t particularly hot.

  “You okay?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t make this harder.

  He shrugged. “I don’t like being trapped in small rooms,” he explained.

  Avery nodded as she struggled to find a way to broach the awkward subject of “Are you a zombie?” This was worse than firing someone.

  “Um, so that zombie that got Donna—” she began.

  Sven’s gaze darted to her. “Yeah, poor Donna.”