First Activation: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by D. A. Wearmouth

  “Guys, get moving,” Bernie encouraged us away, but I noticed something flicker behind a curtain in the house.

  “Not yet, Bernie. I think there’s somebody in there.” I pointed to the left of the front entrance.

  “So what? Do you want to wait for them to attack us?”

  “They could have attacked us already. If the person in the house was armed, then they would have taken a shot by now, wouldn’t they?”

  “Harry, we’re only a couple of minutes away from Bernie’s place. Why bother?” Jack replied.

  I still had some hope that we would find people who weren’t transformed into killers. There must have been some survivors or other plane passengers around, although the chances were pretty slim.

  “We’re not here to hurt anyone,” I called out. “Look, there are three of us and we’re not attacking each other. It’s safe to come out.”

  There was no reply, perhaps the curtain had just been twitching in the breeze. We started to walk away.

  “Please, come and help me,” a young girl’s voice cried out.

  “Well done, dickhead. Now look what you’ve got us into,” Jack said, as he turned back towards the house.

  “Come out with your hands up so we can see them,” he shouted.

  “I’m too scared. Please help me,” the voice replied.

  We all looked at each other, waiting for somebody to speak.

  “We’re all armed, right? So why should we be scared of a little girl?” Bernie said.

  “Okay, let’s creep up to the door. Bernie, you open it, Jack and I will cover you. Jack, help me move the woman from the door frame,” I whispered.

  “Okay, no worries.”

  We sneaked up to the front entrance, freed the woman’s body and moved her to one side.

  Bernie looked at us. “Ready?”

  Jack and I nodded. Bernie pulled down the handle and kicked the door wide open. The entrance hall looked empty. He looked back at us from the side of the door, I shook my head. He crouched down and slowly looked around the doorframe into the house.

  A little girl suddenly appeared from inside and smashed a plate on the top of Bernie’s head. It would have been the kind of thing I laughed at on YouTube a couple of days ago, but it wasn’t funny now, as she bent down and picked up what looked like a cheese knife. Jack ran forward and kicked her in the arm. She dropped the knife and started crying. Bernie picked her up, she started screaming and squirming under his arm. Blood trickled from the top of his head down his cheek, but he didn’t seem badly injured.

  “How do you suggest we deal with this?” he asked.

  “Can we find a room to lock her in?” I replied.

  “So much for zero tolerance.”

  He was right, although I don’t think any of us had this in mind when we agreed on it.

  “Bernie, hold her there for a minute while I have a quick look around the house,” I said.

  I figured she was on her own, otherwise, I doubt she’d be alive. I searched every room hoping to find a lockable door. The only one I found was inside the bathroom.

  I made my way back to the entrance hall where the girl was pleading with Bernie and Jack. “Please, let me go. Please? I promise to run away, and you’ll never see me again.”

  There was an obvious way to deal with her, but nobody would say it. Jack offered an alternative. “Let’s put her in the recycling bin I saw at the side of the house.”

  “You want to put her in a garbage can?” Bernie said.

  “We can’t take her with us and I doubt any of us would volunteer to kill her. So, we have to do something so she doesn’t follow us. If we put her in the bin and she cries out, another killer might come along. So she’ll keep quiet. She’ll be able to escape soon enough by rocking about, by then we’ll be long gone.”

  It was a great idea that saved us from making a potentially terrible decision.

  “No, no, please don’t put me in with the recycling, please,” she cried.

  We walked around to the side of the house. Jack opened the bin and Bernie dropped the girl into the large plastic container and closed the lid. I put a heavy rock on top to slow down her escape time, and we walked cautiously back to the road.

  “Straight to your apartment, Bernie. I can hear that vodka calling us,” I said.

  Bernie had been right about his apartment being safe, it was solidly built and the windows were below street level. The thick hardwood front door had a five point locking system and would be impenetrable to anything other than heavy force. It provided the right kind of protection we wanted for the night.

  Inside, the apartment was neat and simply laid out. The kitchen and living area were both part of one long room with a separate bathroom and bedroom towards the back. For some reason, I thought Bernie was wealthy. I had no reason for this assumption whatsoever, apart from the fact that the couple wore expensive clothes and were well spoken. The two couches in the living room looked inviting when compared to the cold floor of the police building where we had spent last night. I was tempted to lie down and sleep right then.

  Bernie was stood staring at a picture on the wall of Linda and him on a beach. I joined him.

  “Where was that taken?”

  “Fort Lauderdale in 2008. It was the best holiday we ever had,” he sighed, “are you married?”

  “No, I’m engaged.”

  “What’s she called?” Bernie replied.

  I quickly glanced at Jack who shook his head, then looked back at the photo on the wall. “You both look happy. At least you can cherish those memories. That’s what we’ll all have to do now.”

  “I suppose you two would like something to eat and a drink?” Bernie murmured.

  “Now you’re talking,” Jack replied.

  I went over to the couch and sat next to Jack while Bernie went through his cupboards in the kitchen area. The light was fading outside and Bernie reflexively flicked on a light, illuminating the kitchen area. As we still had electricity, I switched on the TV with a remote placed carefully on the couch arm. There was no signal on any of the channels, I tried the digital radio but again received no transmission.

  “Turn the lights off, Bernie, we’re lighting up our location for all the loons out there,” Jack said.

  “Bernie, do you have internet access?” I asked, ignoring Jack.

  “Yes, but isn’t the network down?”

  “The mobile network. We can still try to access the internet through your cable connection.”

  Bernie switched off the kitchen light before he walked over to a desk behind the couch Jack was seated on, and switched on a computer. On his way back to the kitchen, he dropped a bottle of vodka in Jack’s lap and said, “Enjoy.”

  “Thanks, Bernie,” Jack said. “I’ll get a couple of glasses. Harry, fire up the internet and I’ll join you in a minute.”

  I opened up a browser while Jack opened the vodka. All of the major news sites were accessible, but had not been updated since yesterday lunchtime. It was a dead end.

  “Let me try twitter again,” Jack said, pulling the keyboard towards him.

  He logged in to his account and found more tweets from strangers. They appeared sinister now that we knew their intention and were safe in Bernie’s apartment with drinks in our hands.

  @ljnookie Jack, I’m a sexy lady who is dying to show you a good time in New York. Let’s hook up. Direct message me.

  @pizzalover23 Hope you have a good time in the big apple. Interested in some free Giants tickets? Meet me at Port Jervis train station.

  @bcat1975 You have been invited to a surprise party. Details will be provided at 4pm on the corner of 27th and 8th.

  Jack searched for ‘New York’ and we started reading through the tweets. Quite a few of the most recent ones were claiming to be at JFK, asking for information and assistance. This couldn’t actually be the case, as there was no mobile coverage out there, however, I didn’t really have a clue how to spot if any were genuine.

  �
�I’ll type in Newark and check for tweets from around the time we landed until an hour or so afterwards. We can look at the profiles of the ones that look genuine, and then see if they have tweeted afterwards,” Jack said.

  It was good thinking, two planes landed at Newark and we knew the passengers had made it off on foot. It would just be a case of trying to spot which ones were not killers, and hoping that some of them had the twitter addiction Jack did.

  A few had tweeted updates just after landing but nothing since then. Only one user stood out from the lists.

  @LeaAsh Landed at Newark, What’s happening? Help us, we are stuck at Newark.

  Jack clicked on the profile. I expected it to be like all the rest and see no further updates, but there were three more tweets, two of which had been posted today.

  @LeaAsh Managed to make it into New York City. Please, please, get in contact with the army or whoever, New York is under attack, there’s no one left.

  @LeaAsh There’s 3 of us in a Manhattan apartment. I am not giving our location away, but we need help.

  @LeaAsh Is there anybody out there who isn’t trying to kill me? #GA

  “Send her one of those direct messages, Jack, quickly.”

  “I can’t. She has to be following me to be able to do that. The tweet will be public, so what shall I write?”

  I thought for a few seconds.

  “Tell her that three of us are coming to Manhattan tomorrow, we’re currently in an outer suburb and arrived on a flight into JFK yesterday afternoon.”

  “Are we going to Manhattan tomorrow?” Jack said, raising his eyebrows.

  “If we get a reply, then yes. Don’t you agree?”

  “Not sure, we have a secure base here, so why risk travelling in the open? I’ll ask her to follow me so we can get more information.”

  Jack @Swankey1974 to @LeaAsh Also a group of three but arrived on a JFK flight. We are in an outer suburb at the moment.

  Jack @Swankey1974 to @LeaAsh Please follow me so we can direct message. What have you got to lose? What have any of us?

  We watched for the next 10 minutes, naively expecting an immediate response. It was more in hope than expectation; Lea Ash was unlikely to be checking Twitter constantly. The best we could really wish for was a response before tomorrow morning.

  “The food’s ready. You’d better get me a glass for a vodka as well,” Bernie called from the kitchen.

  “No problem at all. You’re allowed to drink your own spirits, but I’ll only get you a glass if you fetch those Marlboro you’ve hidden in a drawer somewhere,” Jack smiled.

  “I’ve never allowed smoking in my apartment, but what difference does it make now? As long as you let me eat first.”

  Jack and I sat down on the same couch and Bernie handed us each a bowl of baked beans.

  “Bernie, you really know how to roll out the red carpet,” Jack said.

  “You don’t have to eat it, you ungrateful prick.”

  “I’m sorry, Bernie. I didn’t mean…” Jack stammered and trailed off.

  After our baked bean dinner, Jack pulled three cigarettes out of the packet. It turned out that the three of us had smoked at some point in the past. Jack and I had smoked in the army, while Bernie said he sometimes had an occasional sneaky one – but not for a year because Linda hated it. There was no sign of guilt from any of us as we coughed our way through the first cigarette. It was oddly calming to sit smoking in companionable silence, all apparently lost in our own thoughts.

  Jack had found a bean can to use as an ashtray, then poured us all a large vodka as we sat back and discussed what to do next. Bernie was comfortable at the apartment and wasn’t keen on going into Manhattan, even if we received a response on Twitter.

  “We’re safe here. Why put ourselves at more risk by trying to find three people who may even be dead by tomorrow?”

  “If we can find three more people and get everyone armed, then we’ll have a strong group,” I said. “Maybe then we can secure a building with plenty of supplies. As we are, the three of us would have trouble holding anywhere with more than one door.”

  “We can get supplies and bring them back here. It seems pretty quiet in the area and there are a couple of big stores a few blocks away. Imagine what kind of state Manhattan is in? It will be full of danger, corpses, and killers.”

  “If we get a response on Twitter, then let’s at least consider it? If we get no reply, then we’ll stay here for a while.”

  “Come on, Bernie,” Jack said, “we don’t even have to hang around in Manhattan if it’s too dangerous. I can’t decide if many killers would actually be there anyway. Remember, their mission is not to get killed by somebody else. If we make it in, Harry and I can have a quick check for Andy and Dave as well. Don’t worry, we won’t be messing around.”

  “I’d go where I thought I had the best chance of success,” Bernie said. “There are lots of places to hide in Manhattan and over a million people would have been there yesterday. Think about how many killers we could be exposing ourselves to? There are thousands of windows in the city that look onto the streets. All anyone would need was a gun and a bit of patience.”

  “This debate might be pointless anyway,” I said. “We might not even get a response. We can make our minds up tomorrow morning after checking online.”

  The mixture of vodka and lack of sleep was starting to loosen me up, and I started speculating on the motivation behind whatever was going on.

  “Maybe all of this is the result of a secretly developed weapon. If you wanted to destroy your enemies, would there be a better way to do it? Divide and conquer, you get to keep your hands clean while they wipe themselves out. An invasion afterwards, would simply be a case of rounding up stragglers.”

  “Why not just get people to kill themselves? Why bother making them kill somebody else first?” Jack asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe to ensure those who weren’t affected would face terrible odds? Or to take care of anyone who was incapable of finding a way to complete their own mission?”

  The more I thought about it, the more it seemed as a chillingly, effective idea to spread.

  “How would the terrorists keep themselves immune from the effect?” Bernie said.

  “Maybe they all got into planes. If it was airborne, they could have put on respirators. Or perhaps there’s an antidote, or they just didn’t expose their own geographic area.”

  “I hadn’t thought about an invasion before. Who would do something like that?” Jack replied, shifting uneasily in his seat.

  We chatted for another half an hour, going around in circles. The only thing that made sense was that it couldn’t have been an accident. Who did it, how they did it, and what they planned to do next, was a mystery. Jack suggested that we all get some sleep, Bernie and I agreed. I stretched out on one of the couches and closed my eyes.

  Jack nudged me awake.

  “Harry, get up. We’ve got a reply!”

  I was disorientated for a few seconds, but quickly recognised Bernie’s apartment and heard Jack behind me tapping on a keyboard. I must have managed a few good hours of sleep, as it was now light outside.

  “What does it say?”

  “Come and look.”

  Bernie appeared from the bedroom in a white vest and briefs; he plodded over to peer at the monitor.

  Direct messages from @Lea Ash

  Where did you fly from? How can we trust you? There are only 2 of us now.

  “How do we know we can trust her? She could be anyone,” Bernie grunted.

  “We don’t know,” I said. “At the moment, this is our most realistic chance of making contact with someone who isn’t a killer. Maybe whoever it is, will know where the other passengers from Newark are heading. An organised group would have a far better chance of fighting off the killers’ attacks, once a base has been established.”

  “A larger group provides a bigger target as well.”

  “True, but let’s try one more message a
nd see what we get back.” I sat at the computer and hit the reply button. “Bernie, where can we see each other from a reasonably safe distance?”

  “The Queensboro Bridge I suppose, it’s close to here and leads over into Manhattan. We could stand at either end. If they don’t show, then we come back here. Deal?”

  Jack and I both nodded.

  Direct messages to @LeaAsh

  We left Manchester in England, you will have to trust us as much as we will you. Come to the Queensboro Bridge at 11, we’ll be on the other side.

  We had three hours to have something to eat, have a wash, and get to the bridge. I usually showered every day as a routine, although I didn’t shave as regularly, so the hot water and soap left me feeling revitalised for the first time in days. Unfortunately, Bernie was a few sizes smaller than me so I put my old clothes back on with a grimace. I left the door of the bathroom open for Jack who eagerly walked in and closed the door. Bernie said he wasn’t going to bother, instead he warmed up cans of beans and made some coffee.

  The beans tasted pleasant enough and I began to think that Bernie might have been right after all. What if we could sit the whole thing out in his apartment? The symptoms people were suffering might not last forever. At least here, we had warm food, relative safety, and no need to risk ourselves unless we were getting supplies. Jack swiped his beans from the kitchen and took them towards the desk to eat and check the computer.

  “Harry, Bernie, we’ve got a reply, it says they’ll try to get there.”

  Bernie and I walked over to Jack and looked at the message over his shoulders.

  “I’m still not sure about this, guys,” Bernie said.

  “Totally agree, it’s a risk, but I think we need to find other people,” I replied.

  “I agree with Harry,” Jack turned back to us. “We have two potentially important people here, they may know more than we do and can hold guns and cover our backs.”

  Bernie walked back to his bedroom.

  “You coming then, Bernie?” Jack called

  “Do I have a choice?” his muffled reply came back.