The Reaper Virus (Novella): Sarcophagus

by Barnes, Nathan

  Attention from the bridge’s infected population came in waves. They could tell when another doomed vehicle in the traffic jam made its last stand and it was a gut wrenching realization to be had. Through a muted filter of the bus’s soundproofing, the signs were all too clear: breaking glass, a desperate shriek, and the clap of a body slamming against a car or a rightfully triggered alarm. Gunshots were less frequent and always distant.

  Sounds in the siege reached a lessoned constant after an hour. Those inside the shelter of the bus managed to keep their sobs to a minimum long enough to give them hope that they’d been finally forgotten. Curious eyes found the courage in the lull to stand on seats for a peak over their new blinder wall. Many of the infected had hobbled away from the mammoth bus towards an area farther up the bridge. There were so many members of the horde that they blotted out any view of what garnered their hungry attention.

  “Are they still all around us?” inquired a woman closer to the bathroom.

  One of the runners stood atop Paul’s empty seat to scan the outside. He looked closely before whispering loudly back, “Most of them are gone. They’re moving up ahead somewhere. Must be someone else locked in their car that they just spotted.”

  Speaking louder than he should have, a man in the middle with thinning gray hair asked, “Can we make a run for it in the other direction?” The question brought about a wave of murmurs from the stir-crazy group.

  Jessica spoke up, something she hated doing. “What then? We run into another group of them? Don’t fool yourselves. It’s only been two hours since they found out we’re here. I doubt it will be clear enough for all of us to make it,” she said attempting to sound as authoritative as possible.

  “I ain’t waitin’ here forever,” proclaimed the makeup-painted woman in her New York accent. Her carefully applied face paint now streaked down her wrinkled cheeks from hours of occasional tears. “How ‘bout half of us stay then the rest go for help? You gotta keep your little girl safe, I get that. But I can’t take another night in this box.”

  She didn’t wait for a reply. A handful of others seemed to agree with her charge. All of them got up and started to move towards the door. More reasonable retreat members whispered ignored pleas for more time, patience for a rescue. One of them turned, saying loud enough for all to hear, “there is no rescue! All the people that would have come for us died on the first bus. No one knows we’re even here. Whoever has the attention of the sick ones up there is doing us a favor; we’d be foolish not to take the chance... We will find help and bring it back, I promise.”

  A volley of shots rang out from outside. The man at the center of the dead’s new focus had done his best to remain concealed. Passing glances from hunting eyes had missed him under the blanket tent he’d made in the backseat of his Ford Explorer. It all changed with a nightmare that came during a sleep session intended to pass the time. He dreamt of his parents getting ripped to pieces and having to watch from a glass cage. Seconds after his own scream ended the dream, the horde found him.

  Dozens of hands pawed at his windows with more coming every minute. This was not how he wanted to go. The virus would not take him without a fight. His friends called him crazy when he bought the AK-47 at a gun show one month after the assault weapons ban expired. They joked that he’d end up on a government watch list all because he wanted a toy that he’d never really use. Now he was all alone with the weighty tool as his only companion. “Can you clear all thirty rounds out without jamming for once?” he jokingly said to the rifle.

  It was so loud inside he could barely think. A crack started snaking along the windshield from an old star chip he’d put off fixing. Out of obsessive-compulsive habit he ejected the magazine one last time, tapping it against the center dash to ensure a smooth exit for the compliment of 7.62x39mm full metal jacket ammunition. He tried to steady his breathing out of habit and instantly felt ridiculous for taking such careful aim at targets so bountiful he couldn’t miss. Then he lowered the barrel to eye level with the crowd of ghouls, unleashing a spray of lethality for his last stand.

  Unrest reached a breaking point back inside the bus. In total, seven retreat members were hell bent on taking advantage of the distraction created by the lowly man’s AK-47 ignited blaze of glory. The rest of the surviving bus occupants pleaded with them to reconsider. Fear joined with cabin fever to solidify their reckless choice.

  Jessica turned to Ava, who had silently observed the frantic exchanges of the adults surrounding her. They locked eyes when the mother commanded, “earmuffs, sweetie. You don’t need to hear any of this mess.”

  “Are we leaving with those people?” She asked shyly.

  “No,” Jessica was stern in her reply, “we’re staying put. Don’t listen to what they are saying because people can say funny things when they’re scared. Right now we’re in the safest place on the bridge.”

  The first runner stood by the door. He spoke barely loud enough for the seven to hear, “I’m only opening this door long enough for ya’ll to get out. After that I can’t promise it’ll open again if those things see us as dinner again. Please reconsider this; I was out there with them. I saw what they do. Please?”

  He got nothing but silence back. With a heavy sigh he reached for the crank to open the hatch. Audible weeping picked back up throughout the interior. Pops from the fury of semi-automatic gunfire continued outside at a steady pace. Then the rhythm was lost. A wallowing scream joined the last two rifle cracks.

  A fraction of a second after the final shots formed a duet with a dying man’s cry, the bus quaked and all occupants shrieked. The last bullet fired in uncalculated desperation from outside struck the upper driver’s side of the church bus. It effortlessly bore a hole through the glass then continued on its upward trajectory cutting a groove into the inside roof. They all screamed in justifiable terror with the seven evacuees dropping to the floor for cover.

  “Is everyone alright?!” cried a man in the middle.

  No physical injuries were voiced aloud. Panic loudly escalated leading to random speculative comments: “someone shot at us!” “Why would they do that? We’re not the bad guys!” “They probably want our supplies!”

  Jessica couldn’t bare the constant flow of ignorance throughout the people she paid to survive with. Her temper flared. She didn’t even check to see if Ava still covered her ears, “what the hell is wrong with you people?! No one shot at us - look at where it hit! The poor bastard out there that just died was desperate and missed. No one here is THAT important so get over yourselves.”

  The internal dialogue running in her mind wanted to scold them further. She needed to belittle the seven members who were so eager to make a run for it. That kind of fearful ignorance was more of a threat to their future than the creatures stalking the bridge. However, Jessica didn’t need to say anything else because the undead did for her. Both sides of the bus trembled under a barrage of eager claws. Emotions cost the group their cool and now their gained anonymity.

  Pounding quickly intensified. Either the noise made the bus an irresistibly appetizing target or they were now the only ones left alive.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Light again fades from the ever present gloom of a sky. With so much of the windows blocked the retreat members inside the luxury coach had adapted to confinement in the reduced visibility. Outside random hazard lights flashed from cars that were no longer occupied by the living. These sporadic bursts of light created an almost hypnotic lightning effect inside the bus.

  Constant droning from the infected developed a certain ebb and flow. Their interest in the contents of the transport often lowered, yet never ceased. Something always seemed to bring them back each time their hammering began to lessen. As darkness permeated the landscape a woman near the back of the bus broke down. She wept uncontrollably; her volume rose with every heave of her chest. In response the horde was electrified from the taunting cries in the metal cage.

  Jessica looked down at her li
ttle girl who sat quietly, more reserved than any adult around her. Tears unknowingly streamed down the tired mother’s face. After a drop of the warm salty liquid landed on Ava’s hand she looked up to see where it came from. Jessica frantically wiped her tears away, trying to look strong for her daughter.

  Ava reached her little hand up, catching one of the descending tears. She carefully moved the hair off Jessica’s forehead and smiled. “Don’t be sad, Mommy.”

  “I’m not…. it’s just….” Jessica stuttered trying to find the words to make this all right, “tired. I’m just tired, sweet thing. That’s all.”

  Nylon of her puffy purple coat with a furry hood made swooshing sounds as it rubbed against itself with Ava’s movement as she lifted herself up. Now on her feet, she stood eye-level with her seated mother. Another tear was nabbed before it could escape Jessica’s cheek by petite fingers with chipped sparkly nail polish. Ava looked her right in the eyes and said, “everything is going to be fine, Mommy.” Then she planted a kiss on her dry lips.

  All Jessica could do was smile back. After her continued efforts to be strong for the five-year-old, it’s the five-year-old that’s strong for her. She held back more tears while pretending to read a magazine. Ava returned to her storybook for the tenth time, feeling accomplished in what she set out to do.

  Dinner rations were passed out shortly after. The group silently savored a helping of trail mix with optional beef jerky for anyone who could stomach it. Food typically had a residual calming effect on them as a whole. Low blood sugar, confinement and waning hope made for dangerous bedfellows. This was their smallest meal yet on the bus, a discouraging truth to realize. Snide remarks were kept to a minimum from the overall exhaustion they felt. Jessica was thankful to not hear any of the normal comments. She was too tired to tolerate the high and mighty attitude that had joined them on this journey.

  A few members had flashlights with them; which was the extent of their disaster planning. The flashlight-armed were some of the more neurotic among them. One woman refused to sit still and paced the aisle with the keychain light activated. Despite pleas from others to turn out the light in fear of reactions from outside, she kept pacing. Jessica watched the show knowing that light or no light, the monsters outside weren’t going anywhere. In all likelihood, they’re attention wasn’t directed high enough to see the light dancing inside the cab through the uncovered sections of window.

  Ava passed out so soon after eating that crumbs still clung to her face. Those in the seats around theirs saw the little one resting and smiled. They all longed for a child’s ability to put chaos on hold in favor of sleep, to stop thinking about their situation long enough to clear their heads with rest. Jessica snuggled up against her brave little princess and joined her in a dreamy reprieve.

  Dreams retained their purity. She chased Ava through a bright sunny field. Bees glowed like fireflies as they zoomed around clovers so perfectly shaped that they should have adorned an Irish pub in the spring. Far away a troupe of drummers made their magic on every percussion instrument she’d ever heard of. Their music echoed off the rolling hills giving them a beat to skip to. Jess felt happy. No zombies or self-righteous church flock to be found; just her and her precious baby girl. Her reason for being, for battling through any obstacle a day might throw at her.

  Her eyes opened to the dim headrest in front of them. Being forced out of such a delightful dream made her bite down on the inside of her cheek. Jessica sat up feeling irritated, her mouth tasting hints of metallic blood. According to her watch it was almost two in the morning. No one else around them appeared to be disturbed. All that could be heard was the drumming of the dead on their walls and a passenger with sleep apnea snoring. “I must be losing my damn mind,” she mouthed the words as they ran through her mind.

  Then she heard it again. This time she knew she wasn’t going crazy because several of the others jolted forward from sleep. Ava sat up confused, her hair an amusing mess. Jessica listened close for the sound to repeat. When it did she thought it sounded like two men yelling at each other. She stood up thinking that tempers among those in their group finally came to blows. Once again, everything was normal inside.

  Stiffness in Jessica’s legs made standing difficult. Curiosity allowed her to power through it in order to hoist up on top of her seat. She steadied herself to look above the gum-tacked newspaper over their window. Lack of light just about everywhere made it easy for her vision to adjust outside. Continuous flashes of the traffic jam’s hazard lights filled in what night vision could not. Beyond the sea of bobbing undead heads she saw the railroad bridge’s expansive silhouette. Movement atop the bridge caught her eye.

  “What is it,” whispered the flashlight woman, “are people coming to rescue us?”

  By now many were stirred from their light sleep. Hearing a directed inquiry about rescue made them think something was actually developing outside. In seconds the aisle around Jessica and Ava’s row was clogged with a congregation of the curious. Jessica glared down at them placing a finger over her closed lips to indicate quiet. Her eyes returned to the glass.

  She could make out the shapes of two people, men it seemed, standing on the rails over the James River. Voices loud enough to hear inside the bus indicated they must have been arguing. Keeping her gaze fixed on the development, she narrated the scene to the others. “I see two guys on the train bridge. One of them has a flashlight with really white light. They are screaming at each other,” she said hoarsely. Each word fogged the glass ever so slightly.

  The pounding on their walls lessened on the side facing the arching railroad crossing. Noise tantalizes the infected hunger, driving them in the direction its source. As volume on the parallel bridge grew loud enough for those inside the coach to hear, the horde went into a frenzy. Stiffly re-animated legs shuffled towards the arguing, ignoring all obstacles. The bar isolating the southbound traffic jam quickly became lined with undead trying to obey their viral directive.

  A man in the aisle pointed out the obvious, “they are leaving! Should we try to go? I don’t hear them over there.”

  “There’s still too many of them,” added the first runner, “the one’s by the door aren’t following.”

  “He’s right,” Jessica agreed.

  Sounds of other passengers scrambling behind her finally pried her face from the glass. A few others scaled the seats behind her to see the mystery men for themselves. They turned on useless cell phones, book lights or anything luminescent in reach to waive in the glass. It didn’t matter how far away the mystery figures on the train bridge were, desperation forced the bus occupants to get their attention.

  From the bus it looked as if the verbal spat was one sided. One figure stood in front the other with his hands animated in fervor, white light flickering from his left side where the assumed light was held. The man farthest from them was mostly still, timid even. Then, as quickly as their shadow dance began, both figures stood still. Whatever transpired froze them in place, separated by a short gap worthy of whispering secrets. Waves of undead traipsed into the guardrails. Clusters in the nearly empty northbound lanes followed suit by lining the bridge wall on the opposite side. A captive audience of both the living and the dead had developed for the two men.

  Suddenly they shifted, doubling the gap between them. Then the farthest man fell backward like a mannequin pushed from a pedestal. His body flipped off the bridge, committed with a horrid clap to the surging waters. As the man rag-dolled off the ledge his companion dropped to his knees in obvious despair. Such an abhorrent end to a mysterious exchange delighted the horde. More bodies started dropping to the river as the creatures in the northern lanes obeyed their desire to feed regardless of the impossible obstacle in their way.

  Jessica slid down into her seat feeling completely and utterly hollowed. She didn’t know exactly what she’d just watched; yet it deepened the chasm left by lost hope. Ava squeezed her hand. There were no words available to comfort so the tired moth
er wrapped both arms around her little girl. They sat in the dark listening to a soundtrack of persistent crying; holding one another tightly as fists gradually resumed languishing their walls.

  Chapter Eighteen

  A steady trickle of corpses somersaulted off the highway bridge for close to an hour. Much to the dismay of those huddled within the barricaded bus; the horde had ample volunteers to replace any fallen drones. The mystery man camped on the railroad tracks extinguished his light and stopped moving after his companion was committed to the rapids. Jessica couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. Whatever the case, his stillness eventually removed him from the focus of the undead. All efforts again turned to the bus, a target too large to be forgotten.

  It was so dark inside the cabin. Exhaustion was extreme yet sleep proved to be unattainable. The siege broadcasted far beyond the bounds of the bridge. Every bang from a decaying fist served as an invitation to others. A swarm of hellish minions came from all sides. They surrounded the horizontal monolith like concertgoers crowding a stage. As the hours passed, bodies piled up like steps getting closer and closer to the raised bus windows.