The Infected (Book 2): Karen's First Day

by Zuko, Joseph

  As a child, Karen had a deep fear of bedroom closets and the space under the bed. Between the ages of six and fourteen she had developed a routine of checking both spots before going to bed, once in the middle of the night and the second she woke up in the morning. Not once was there a dark creature from another dimension waiting to eat her soul, but it never stopped her from checking. As an adult she made sure that both spots were impossible for an evil spirit to lurk around in.

  The closet door was always left open and had never been shut the two years they lived in the apartment. For the bed they used an old queen box as the frame and set the new box on top of that. It worked great and kept her feeling safe in the bedroom. As she got older the irrational fear of monsters hiding in the dark corners of her room drifted away and were replaced with real fears, like how will we pay this bill and did we get enough food to last the month. When Karen got to her mid-thirties she felt like she finally understood how the world worked and what really needed to be feared.

  Then the world flipped upside down and there were real monsters. They were not hiding under your bed or in your closet. They were out in the parking lot in the middle of the day and their only goal was to tear her family apart.

  Karen could feel the sweat on the back of the girls’ necks. It was so warm in the apartment. They were absolutely trembling in her arms. Karen needed to turn this around and make it a game.

  “It’s okay,” she whispered. There was barely enough room to move and put her children down. Karen slid the hung clothes to the side and positioned the girls against the back wall. She just remembered there was an extra case of ammo for the gun hidden up on the top shelf of the closet. Karen reached up, pulled down the small box and took a knee in front of the girls.

  “We’re playing hide and seek. Okay?”

  There was another thump at the window. The thin closet door muffled the sound. Karen’s hands moved fast to open the box. She pulled her gun, popped the magazine from the bottom and worked to refill the spent rounds.

  “Mama, I scared,” Robin danced like she had to pee.

  “Bubba, do you have to pee?”

  “Yeah,” she nodded her little ginger head. Of course she had to pee right now. That’s how kids work. When is the most inconvenient time for you Mama, because that’s when I have to go.

  “Can you hold it?”

  “No!” she danced faster. Karen looked around the closet for something to help. Old towels sat in a rack unit above them. Karen pulled down a ratty towel and laid it out on the floor. She worked to get the little pants down off Robin.

  Karen held the girl in her arms and aimed the baby biscuits directly at the folded square towel, “Okay, pee on the towel.”

  She did not have to ask her twice. Urine flowed with no problem once she was given permission.

  “What do the bad people want, Mama? Do they want to bite us?” Valerie rubbed a tear from her eye and smiled a little at Robin peeing on a towel in the closet.

  Karen waited for the drips to stop before finishing the job with a hand towel. She used the time to think about her response.

  What should she say?

  What do you tell a five-year-old so she would understand?

  Do you lie and hope for the best?

  Sometimes raising children feels like you’re doing a lot of fibbing and hoping for the best.

  She got Robin on her feet, dried and pants fastened. The closet smelled of piss, sweat, tears and fear. There was an even louder thud at the front door, more monsters were trying to bust it down.

  “They want to grab you, but Mama won’t let them, okay? I promise to keep you girls safe. Nobody is going to bite you, so don’t even worry about it. I need you to be quiet. Very quiet.” Karen looked her children right in their sweet little brown eyes and she nodded at them. It was difficult to tell how much they understood. This was not the kind of game she normally played with them. Karen snapped the magazine back into the butt of the gun.

  There was a CRACK at the bedroom window. The glass pane was about to give. The last thing Karen wanted to do was step out of the closet, but she couldn’t stay in here and let the infected smash down the doors. The instinct to save her children was taking over. She didn’t have a plan. How could she plan for this?

  Couldn’t someone else fight the stupid old bastards?

  She reached out and took hold of both children’s hands and gave them a little squeeze, “I have to go tell the bad people to get the heck out of here. You stay put and don’t make a peep,” she said as she gave them a wink. Karen stood up and racked the slide on her gun.

  “Mama, please don’t go,” Valerie attempted to whisper and would not let go of Karen’s hand.

  “I have to, baby. Please let go.” Karen pulled her hand away from her oldest and stepped out of the closet.

  “Mama?!” Valerie and Robin reached out for her through the hanging clothes. Karen stole one last glance before closing the door. The flimsy cardboard door clicked shut. The children did just as they were told and stayed quiet.

  Karen yanked one of the knives from the sheetrock next to the bedroom doorway. Another heavy hand hit the window and it gave off a loud CRACK. Karen felt like she was standing at the precipice of a deep abyss, staring down into the mouth of hell with her toes curling over the crumbling edge.

  Should she jump and end it?

  Was it even remotely possible to survive this?

  The front door popped with a familiar CRACK! Another set of hands crashed into the back sliding glass door. All three entries were about to be breached. In the next minute the infected would march into the apartment. Even with perfect aim she could only take down twenty of them.

  Maybe she could clear a path to the car, but how would she carry the girls out of here? And if she made it to the car and got on the road, then what?

  Where would she go without Jim?

  Her body ached from the adrenaline charges. Dead fingers tapped at the window. The sound sparked a memory in Karen’s mind. When she was eighteen years old Jim would tap at her bedroom window. She would sneak out of her parent’s house and the two of them would make out for hours in the back of Jim’s old convertible Volkswagen Rabbit. The quick trip down memory lane gave her the start of a smile.

  She raised the gun shoulder level and aimed it at the window.

  Come get some motherfucker.

  She squeezed on the trigger and the hammer started to pull back. A hurricane of thoughts were slamming around in her head. It was enough to make her want to pass out. The final thought she landed on was by far the most horrifying concept she had ever seriously contemplated.

  Does she make sure that she saves the last three shots for her and the girls?

  Vomit formed at the back of her throat after conceiving the horror.

  Watch a monster strip your child’s flesh or pull the trigger?

  Why were they the only options to choose from?

  Outside in the parking lot she heard the sound of a car horn, tires screeching and an engine revving. The noise had caught the attention of the infected at the window and it turned away from the glass to investigate. Karen did not allow herself to relax. She kept the gun pointed at the window as she stepped forward. The vehicle got closer to her side of the complex.

  Could it be Jim?

  Maybe he crossed the bridge with no problem and he was finally here!

  The thought that it was Jim was all consuming. She heaped hope upon hope that it was Jim and she would not have to fight this nightmare alone.

  BOOM!

  She ducked from the fright. Someone had fired a shotgun from the car and it was followed by the sound of bones crunching under the weight of the car.

  Maybe Jim found a gun?

  The horn blasted again. Two more shots were fired back to back.

  Karen stayed low to the ground as she crept to the window. The vehicle outside came to a halt and the engine was cut. Another shot rang out and a moment later a body hit the ground. Karen heard foo
tsteps race across the asphalt. They were heading for her front door.

  It must be Jim!

  Another two shots were fired right outside the door and the infected bodies fell to their second and final death. There was a hard knock at the door and a man’s voice shouted, “Karen!”

  Her heart jumped with joy. She recognized the voice it was not Jim but it was her brother, Troy. She got up from her squat position, ran to the door, popped off the chain and turned the lock. When she finally opened the door her face was flooded with tears.

  Troy rushed through the door and locked it behind himself. He threw his arms around his sister and let her cry. His baseball cap was still turned backwards on his head, but the gray fabric now had dark red spots flicked across the part that covered his forehead. He pushed his sunglasses. They perched on top of his cap.

  It was his signature look.

  He had a little extra musk to him from the sweat he was pouring.

  “It’s okay. I got you.” Troy noticed knives sticking out of the sheetrock, holes through the front door and blood drops on the carpet.

  Where were the little ones? Where was Jim? He asked himself.

  Karen could feel the heat coming off the barrel of Troy’s shotgun. He sported two bandoliers full of shotgun shells. They crisscrossed his torso and held a hundred shells total. He looked like a freedom fighter from south of the border.

  “I hid the girls in the closet,” Karen said as she pulled away from him and ran back to the bedroom.

  “Where’s Jim?” Troy asked as he reloaded the shotgun.

  “He called and said he was crossing the 205. That was about fifteen minutes ago.” Karen opened the closet door. The two little ones jumped from fright. Then they rushed out from under the clothes when they saw their Mama.

  “It’s okay girls. It’s okay.” Karen knelt to embrace them. “Look who’s here?”

  They looked up as Troy entered the bedroom.

  “Uncle Troy!” They said it together, let go of their Mama to give him a squeeze. He propped his gun into the corner of the room and picked up both girls.

  “What’s this?” Valerie pointed at the bandoliers.

  “It holds the shells for my gun,” he said as his rough beard brushed against their soft cheeks as he gave each one a kiss.

  “I peed on towel.” Robin gave him a big smile.

  “Okay?” he looked to Karen for an explanation.

  “We were hiding in the closet, so I improvised.”

  “We need to go.” Troy nodded for the door.

  “Where?”

  “Mom’s.”

  “Mom’s safe? I’ve been calling her all day.”

  “I got her after I ran into a pack of those biters. We left her work in a hurry and she forgot her phone. She’s back at home. Grab your stuff.”

  “I have to wait for Jim.”

  “We don’t have a lot of-” Troy was cut off by the sound of breaking glass. The sliding glass door at the back of the apartment just shattered. Troy dropped the girls on the mattress and picked up his gun.

  “Stay here!” Karen commanded the girls. She followed her brother into the living room. Seven nasty infected old folks stomped into the girls play area. The leader was an obese man topping four hundred and fifty pounds. Globs of fat fell from his open wounds that crossed his stomach and chest. It dripped out onto the floor with every step it took.

  The shards of glass popped like peanut brittle under their bloody shoes. Troy racked his shotgun as he stepped past the kitchen.

  BOOM!

  The gun echoed loudly in the small living space. The big man’s face was cleaned of its features. Its dead body fell on top of a toy castle. The weight of it destroyed the pink palace. Karen joined her brother and frantically opened fire. Her first shot exploded through an old woman’s cheek. Her body smeared a black stain down the wall as her flailing arms pulled down the children’s taped up artwork.

  The space filled with gun smoke. Muzzle flashes lit up the dark apartment. The rounds ripped in and out of the soft bodies and peppered the wall behind the infected. Black blood drained out onto the linoleum and pooled around the new Lego set Karen and Jim bought the girls last Christmas.

  They dry fired their guns as the last body dropped onto the pile. Karen quickly exchanged her spent magazine for the full one in her back pocket. Troy worked another six rounds into his gun as he stepped up to the window and checked for more of them.

  It was clear. For now. They hustled back to the children. Karen pulled her purse strap over her head and picked up the box of ammo from the closet. She crammed it into the already full purse and forced the zipper closed.

  Troy loaded the last round into his shotgun and racked it. Karen dug in the closet and found a red leather dog bag that she used to carry Botchy around in before she had Valerie. She scooped up the sleeping old deaf dog and pushed Botchy into the opening, pulled the flap closed, the Velcro locked the little pouch inside. Karen slid her arm through the strap and tossed it up onto her shoulder.

  “I packed all this food,” she said as she pointed down at the backpack she filled earlier.

  “I can’t carry it and Valerie. Mama’s got food. We need to get out of here,” Troy said as he wiped off his drenched forehead.

  Karen plucked the crying toddler from the bed and propped her up on her hip.

  “Alright buddy, you have to hold onto Uncle Troy’s back!” He faced away from Valerie as she stood on the bed and he backed up into her. She leaped up on to his shoulders. “Dig your shoes into my belt and use it like a step.” He gave directions as he headed for the front door. She got her little arms around his neck and her shoes on his belt. Valerie was as secure as she could be. Troy was ready to charge out the front door.

  “Wait!” Karen changed direction and entered the kitchen. She sat Robin on the counter and dug through the junk drawer until she found a pen and a notepad. She scribbled down the words “Went to Mom’s”

  “Okay, let’s go!”

  A group of dead people knocked politely at the front door. They wished to come in and make themselves at home. Troy took a look through the peephole and five crusty infected fuckers stared blankly at the door. They bumped shoulder to shoulder and jammed up the exit.

  When they got closer to the door they stumbled over the dead bodies on the ground. Troy would have to empty his gun just to step one foot out the door. Karen rejoined him at the door and nodded for him to open it.

  “It’s blocked.”

  “Out the back!” Karen pivoted on a dime and headed for the sliding glass door. “Girls, don’t look!” She pulled Robin in tight so her face was tucked against her neck. Troy hunched over to give Valerie a better place to lie on his back. The two of them danced over the disgusting bodies that littered the playroom floor.

  Valerie couldn’t help herself. She looked at the devastation and gore splayed out on her precious toys. She let out an ear-piercing scream and buried her face into her Uncle’s back.

  Karen stepped out onto the small back porch, and over the dog fence and into the soft grass of the backyard. She was greeted by a pack of infected. At the front of the group was a sad looking old granny. Her black eyes were sunk deep into her skull and her neck was covered in dark purple bruises. A chunk of meat hung out the side of her brown polyester pants. It looked like she was bitten on the calf. She wore a gray sweatshirt that read “World’s Best Grandma”. Troy blasted a shot at the group. The pellets shredded the grandma. Her out stretched hands were destroyed, leaving only stumps. The words on her shirt were blacked out with blood. The force of the shot knocked her to the ground and her limp body tripped up the others.

  Karen ran to the far side of the apartment building. She raced across a patch of grass that separated her building from the next building over. The coast was clear on this side of the unit. As she rounded the corner she spied Troy’s red truck. He had left his driver side door open.

  Thank god.

  She picked up speed as she he
aded for the open door. The sun felt so warm on her skin. There was a nice breeze in the air. It was a perfect spring day in the northwest, except for the smell. Every one of the infected in the parking lot must have evacuated their bowels. The stink of nasty shit hung heavy in the air.

  Karen’s bicep burned and her lungs were on fire. She wanted to switch Robin to the other arm, but that would mean she would have to shoot with her non-dominant hand. It was better to be in pain than miss a shot.

  Old infected creatures milled about in the parking lot separating them from the truck.

  “Fuck!” she cursed.

  “Bad word.” Robin let her Mama know she was disappointed in her. Troy was half a second behind his sister. He racked another shell. The weight of the two full bandoliers plus the forty-five pound kid on his back made this dash a nightmare. The two decades of smoking wasn’t doing him any favors either. The last thing he needed right now was for the lace on his boot to become untied. The plastic tips of the laces danced on the concrete as he moved onto the sidewalk. Two steps later Troy got hung up on the shoelaces. His yell alerted Karen to the problem.

  She turned in time to see him crash to the ground. The shotgun went off and the pellets just missed Karen’s knees. The misfire crossed over the entire lot and punched out the back window of a sedan. The gun fell out of his hands and slid across the ground. Valerie panicked and squeezed tighter around his neck. Her forearms choked him and made Troy cough violently.

  He forced the words out through the coughs, “Let up!” he tapped her arm.

  Karen ran back and hovered over the two of them. Her gun was trained on the forehead of the next closest infected man.

  “Get up Troy!” Karen’s voice was strained. Pain radiated all over the man’s body. He pushed himself up to his knees and reached back with his hand to raise Valerie up higher onto his back.

  “You okay girl? Goddamn that hurt!”

  “I’m okay!” she said as she kept her face buried deep between his shoulder blades.