by Steven Pajak
The chick had closed the gap to fifteen feet. I took my eyes off her and put the SKS on the ground. Using both hands now, I pulled open the bag and looked inside. I started moving things around, my eyes frantically trying to see into the darkened compartments. I looked up again, checking on the girl. She was now only ten feet away.
The fucking alarm continued to bleet-bleet-bleet, the mower idled in front of me and the bitch kept grunting and trying to form words that her brain no longer knew.
And my goddamn hands were shaking again.
Damn it!
I pulled the MREs out and tossed them onto the ground, moved the LaRue out of the way, and finally spied a clip. I grabbed at it desperately and pulled it out, slipped it into the slot on the end of the bolt and pushed down hard with the ball of my thumb. The first several rounds went down nicely but then stopped. I pushed again, harder still, and a couple more went in.
The grunting sounded so close now. When I looked up Blondie was just a few feet away from me. There was no time left to load the damn SKS.
I jumped to my feet and charged her, screaming at the top of my lungs, remembering the last major bayonet charge I’d seen in a documentary about the Korean War. Although I hadn’t unfolded the SKS’s bayonet, I hit her hard with the barrel of the gun and pushed her backward, knocking her off her feet.
Before she could get back up I kicked her in the side of the head and watched as blood burst from her ear. I kicked again, and again and again, but the woman would not die. She moaned now, a godawful sound, and squirmed on the ground. She could not get to her feet, so I used this to my advantage and forced the last rounds down into the SKS. I threw the damn stripper clip away in disgust.
I paused a second, considering leaving her on the ground squirming and just driving the hell away while I had the chance. I considered that for only a second, because, although she could not get up right now, she might recover in a few minutes or a few hours, and then she might happen upon some other unsuspecting person. I didn’t want that on my conscience, so I put her out of her misery and made my way back to the John Deere. I surveyed the area again, hoping that there were no more crazies within ear shot. The alarm would not stop and it was bound to attract more unwanted guests sooner or later.
I quickly gathered the items I’d pulled out of my bag and strapped it to the back of the mower, laid the SKS across my lap so that I’d have it handy, and then accelerated.
I pulled out onto Dempster and headed west, toward the highway, planning to check it out and see how it was. If I could get by on the shoulders or the embankments it would save me a lot of time. If I couldn’t, I’d get back onto the streets and continue my journey home.
After a few blocks—after which I couldn’t hear that damned alarm anymore, thank goodness—I found the entrance ramp to the highway. It was packed all the way down the ramp and there was no room for me to slip by on the mower. I’d have to stay on the streets and plod along at 15 miles per hour.
Maybe this was a better idea anyway. Much of the next leg of the journey would lead me through forest preserve and wooded areas once I passed through Schaumburg and the shopping mall.
Less people might mean less crazies. Or it might not. I just didn’t know enough about anything right now to make assumptions. I didn’t know who the crazies were or why they were the way they were, but they were obviously people, and my assumption seemed sound enough. Besides, I really had no other choice.
I passed the mall without incident. I had expected it to be full, teeming with crazies. Yes, I had seen way too many movies, but I did not consider that fact to be of any benefit to me.
My behavior so far, although I couldn’t say this was fact, seemed to be silly mistakes performed only by actors in movies. Things that seemed right at the time, had been done with little thought and less planning, and could have been disastrous.
The mall was full of cars, which might mean people, but I saw no one walking around the lot or the perimeter of the mall. I slowed to about five miles an hour, driving along the sidewalk. I saw no movement inside the glass doorways of three of the major stores, nor at any of the two main entrances on this side of the mall.
That did not mean that people weren’t in there hiding out. There might even be help in there. Certainly there would be food and water. I stopped the John Deere but did not shift to park. I held the brake and idled on the sidewalk considering my next move. Was I really planning on trying to get into the mall? It was a big place. There could be people in there, yes, but there could also be others in there that I did not want to encounter.
My stomach almost decided for me but the memory of the Dunkin’ Donuts fiasco was still too fresh. Although I knew I couldn’t go much longer before hunger and fatigue just took over, I was not willing to try my luck here. There were just too many unknowns in this equation and my math skills sucked.
Besides, home was just sixteen or seventeen more miles away. Just an hour or two more and I’d see my wife. She probably even had dinner ready, sitting in a Tupperware container in the fridge. She probably had the heat turned up and the thick quilt on the bed, too. I could almost feel the warmth now.
But you’ll have to tell her about the kids, I thought.
That shut my mind up real quick.
I throttled up and got moving again. I’d go as far as I could go and just fight the hunger and the fatigue. I’d have to just do my best to keep my eyes open and focused on the road, being observant of my surroundings. And with any luck, those sixteen or seventeen miles would just breeze by.
I did manage to drive another nine miles before my mind and body just shut down on me. I remembered cruising along Route 20 heading west, just passing the exit to Route 59 and thinking I had not too much further to go, and the next minute I was up the curb on the wrong side of the road and smashing into a light post in the parking lot of a diner.
I flew out of the seat of the John Deere and rolled a bit on the blacktop before dinging my head on the pavement. Once I stopped rolling I looked up, but the world seemed to be spinning now.
Through my blurred vision I could see the John Deere up against the pole, which was slightly bent at an angle now but not really in danger of collapsing. My eyelids drooped and I fought to open them back up.
I managed to sit up but I wasn’t even going to attempt to stand. I stayed where I was, watching the John Deere swirl and blur. I noticed the SKS about twenty feet away on my right, just ahead of the mower. I started to crawl for it.
I made it several feet on my hands and knees when I saw the front door of the diner open and a man came running out, waving his hands back and forth above his head, as if he were signaling a helicopter or something.
I didn’t hear any rotors or the loud engine of a chopper. He was yelling something, too, but damned if I knew what the hell he was saying. At first I thought he was coming to my aid but he veered toward the mower. He studied it a second and then reached down and turned off the ignition.
He looked around, his eyes as big as saucers. He looked scared as hell. I tried to tell him not to worry, I’d be all right, but only a small croak came out of my throat.
The man coming toward me looked to be about sixty, with a head full of white hair and a thick white mustache. He reminded me of Mark Twain, only he was much taller than I’d imagined Mark Twain would be, and he was dressed like a fry-cook.He wore gray slacks and a white apron and had one of those white paper hats on his head. His shoes were really polished, too. I got a good look at them from my vantage point.
“That was too much noise,” Mark Twain said as he reached down and helped me to my feet. “We have to get inside, now.”
“My gun,” I managed to say.
I limped forward with my arm around his shoulder, leaning most of my weight on his body. He was pretty strong for an old man.
“Yes, yes, but keep moving,” he said.
We stopped and I stood shakily on my own while he stooped down and grabbed my SKS.
“I
’ll go back for your bag if they don’t come,” he told me when he returned to my side.
“Who’s coming?” I asked, completely out of it now.
Mark Twain ignored the question and kept moving, only stopping long enough to open the door and put his body in front to hold it. I staggered inside, managed to make it to one of the booths near the door, and sat down hard. I heard the lock snap into place and some other sound that might have been a secondary lock.
That was the last thing I remembered for a long time.
CHAPTER 5:
Eat at Kappy’s
Mark Twain turned out to be John Kaplan, owner of Kappy’s Restaurant, in which I currently sat eating a most wonderful breakfast.
John, or Kappy to his friends, sat across from me in one of the cozy booths. He was repacking the first aid kit he’d used on me just a few minutes ago to clean some of the minor cuts and bruises I’d suffered sometime during the night.
“You made it through pretty unscathed,” John said as he stuffed a white roll of tape into the kit.
“Considering…”
I took a bite of a sausage link. It tasted absolutely delicious. I’d told John as much as I dared about my journey last night. Although I did tell him about going to the school to pick up my kids, I left out the part about them being torn to pieces by their aftercare teacher.
John finished packing the kit and zipped it closed. He pushed it to the side and picked up his coffee.
He took a sip of coffee. “My day wasn’t quite as... adventurous. I came in early to get the bread started. I noticed something was wrong when the busboy didn’t show up by six. I called his cell a few times and couldn’t get through. None of the waitresses showed up at seven and that was when I knew something was really wrong. At eight when I went to unlock the door I saw Julio, the busboy, dead beside his car. And I saw... them... for the first time.”
I ate some of the eggs and hash browns. After washing it down with some coffee, I asked, “What do you know about them, Kappy?”
“About those things?”
“Yes. I call them crazies.”
“Well, that’s as good as anything I’ve heard them called.”
He lifted a coffee carafe and freshened my cup. Kappy was going to get a good tip.
“So, what do you know about them? What does the TV say?”
He got up from the booth and moved to the front door. He checked the lock again, for about the fourth time since I woke up. He looked out at what was left of Julio and without turning to me he said, “The TV calls them ‘infected’ but it doesn’t say what they’re infected with. There’s all kinds of speculation, of course, but most people think it has something to do with the H1N1 vaccinations. The government says otherwise, but they wouldn’t tell us the truth anyway, probably thinking that the truth may cause panic.”
I started on my pancakes and fresh coffee. “What else?”
Kappy finally turned away from the front doors. “No one knows when the first infected actually sprang up. Earliest accounts say sometime over the weekend. There were reports coming in from most of the large cities, so they can’t really say where first. Probably New York but could be California.”
“How does the infection spread?” I asked.
“Bodily fluids. Blood and saliva. When they bite they transfer the disease.”
“So do they die and then... resurrect?” I felt stupid asking this question. I’d obviously watched too many movies.
“No, the infected ones aren’t dead.”
“I saw people who’d been bitten and died. Will they reanimate?”
John shook his head. “As far as I know, they won’t. If the infected kill a person before the infection can take hold of the nervous system, the person stays dead.”
I took comfort in the knowledge that my children would not become one of those creatures and claw their way out of their final resting place.
He returned to the table but didn’t sit. He asked, “You want something else? More eggs?”
“No, I’m fine. Thank you so much, Kappy. You really saved my skin out there.”
“You gave me a good scare. I saw your headlights coming right toward the front of the place and I thought you were going to crash right through my front door and wake the bastards up.”
“So they actually sleep, huh?”
I couldn’t help but ask questions. I was fascinated by this information. I’d had no radio and I was starved for information.
“Yes, they sleep. They actually sleep a lot of if you let them. I think it helps them rejuvenate or something. I guess that’s lucky for us; allows people to move around somewhat during the night if they’re careful enough not to make too much noise. When those ‘crazies’ wake up at first light, they’re hungry, but most of them don’t seem to have any real cognitive functions to do any real thinking to help themselves and seek nourishment. They sort of just operate by instinct or something.”
Thinking of people as nourishment for the crazies was an odd thought. Letting that image go quickly, I asked, “What makes you say that?”
He looked at me a moment, downed the rest of his coffee and said, “Here, come with me a second.”
We both wiggled out of the booth and I followed him over to the front door. The main entrance was pretty exposed. Kappy pulled down the thin film shades that blocked out most of the sun but were transparent enough to see outside.
I noticed my bag sitting on a chair that stood next to the doors. My SKS leaned up against the chair and I felt a sudden relief.
“You got my bag,” I said and touched the canvas with the fingers of my left hand.
“Yep. Went back out last night after you’d passed out. It seemed important to you and when they didn’t stir with all that racket you made I figured I’d chance it.”
Although he didn’t know it, Kappy had scored more points for his kind deed.
“Look there,” he pointed, indicating the nearest light post just to the right of the front doors.
I looked and saw three of the crazies milling around. They had that stupid, dazed look on their faces. They just kind of walked around the pole, staring at the ground. Occasionally they bumped each other and the stupid look changed to awareness and then shifted back when they realized they were among their own kind.
“See the little guy there wearing the red wind breaker? He’s been there since yesterday morning. I think he’s actually the one that got Julio, but I can’t say for sure.
“Anyway, see how it’s like all in a daze? They don’t have no sense to even move on to where they might find some food. It’s like they’re just waiting for dinner to come to them.”
As we watched, the guy in the red windbreaker stopped his circular movement. After a moment of remaining still, he turned to his left and went to the mower. He looked at it for a moment, took a few steps toward it, then turned around and rejoined his kin.
“See what I mean? Dumb as rocks, but when they see live flesh walking around out there that look on their faces changes. They get real interested and then instinct takes over. They seem pretty smart then.”
I didn’t like looking at them. They looked human but they were alien to me. I’d seen them up close and personal. I’d seen them at dinner time and I’d seen the carnage they’d left behind.
For a moment I felt rage swell behind my temples. My eyes slid to the SKS. I could easily pick it up, unlock the door, step outside and lay waste to the three monsters. I could end them. I should end them.
As if he read my thoughts, Kappy put a hand on my forearm and squeezed a bit. “Let’s leave them be right now. There’s no one around. Maybe they’ll starve themselves. Maybe I’ll just have an experiment right outside my front door and see how long they last if they don’t eat.”
I considered ignoring Kappy and going with my own instincts. But I let that idea fall away and when Kappy turned away from the front doors I followed.
At the booth again, I slid in. I intended to finish my breakfast but I s
uddenly didn’t have the stomach for it any longer. Instead I turned to the coffee. The caffeine was what I really needed right now.
“What time is it?” I asked. My watch was busted, probably when I was thrown from the John Deere.
“It’s just past one,” Kappy said. Again, as if he could read my mind, he added, “Only about four more hours until nightfall. If you’re planning on leaving, you’d best do it then.”
“Will they sleep then?”
Kappy considered this a moment. “No. Not that early.”
“I really should go. I have to get to my wife. I don’t even know if she’s okay.”
“A few more hours and it will be dark. Better to move in the dark.”
“A lot could happen in a few hours,” I said.
I shuddered. I had done a pretty good job of putting the horrible images of my children’s torn bodies out of my mind but it was getting harder by the minute. I couldn’t stand not knowing if my wife was alive or dead.
“Yes,” he conceded.
Kappy and I stared at each other while we drank coffee. After a moment I looked away, using a coffee refresher as an excuse.
“What about you, Kappy? Is your wife okay?”
He shook his head.
“Cancer took her a few years back. This place is all I have left. I guess it was fate that brought me here just before this outbreak. I have enough food and water, and a roof over my head. I have nice generators for if and when the power dies. I think I’m pretty safe here, and it’s a good place for people to stop, should they find themselves on a long journey and need a rest.”
“There’s no way I’m going to talk you into coming with me.” It wasn’t a question.
He shook his head again.
I gave him some peace for a while by keeping my mouth shut and enjoying the coffee. The television was on somewhere in the back but the volume was down low. And as much as I was starved for information, right now I didn’t want to hear about these crazies.