Quarantine: A Pandora Novel

by McCrohan, Richard

  Reaching down, Austin picked up the broken wheelbarrow by the handles and leaned it up against the barrier wall, with the handles pointed upwards. He leaned over and put his hands on his knees, trying to suck enough air into his lungs.

  “Come on, Austin,” Jermaine yelled while still hanging from the top of the wooden wall, “they’re almost on top of you. Jump!”

  Taking a final frightened glanced behind him; Austin took three long steps and jumped on the top edge of the wheelbarrow then leapt up the wall. The two soldiers grabbed each other’s wrist, and Jermaine pulled up with all his strength. Austin grabbed his friend’s belt with his free hand and lifted his feet up, just as the first two zombies slammed into the plywood wall. Austin swung his right leg onto the ledge and both men pulled themselves up to a sitting position. They were both breathing heavily. The main body of zombies reached the wall and threw themselves into it as they reached longingly for the elusive prey. Both men had to hang on to the rattling wood, least they find themselves knocked off their perch on the top.

  Climbing over, the two relieved soldiers hung off the opposite side, and then dropped down to the sidewalk below. Leaning wearily against the wall to catch their breath, they looked around making sure they weren’t about to be attacked.

  “Oh, shit,” puffed Jermaine, “this blows. What happened back there?”

  “God damn wheel fell off,” Austin said. “Piece of crap equipment!”

  “I’d definitely complain to the union about that,” suggested Jermaine.

  “Roger that,” said his friend. “I’m totally filing for Worker’s Comp.”

  Jermaine smiled, “Call your lawyer.”

  Straightening himself up, Austin chuckled, “Fucker’s probably dead. Isn’t everybody?”

  Jermaine stepped away from the rattling pounding at the plywood and noted, “Hey! Not us, bro. Not us.”

  It started at first with only a few drops coming down. Barely a drizzle. But after a few minutes, the rain that had been threatening the city all day finally opened up. Rick, PJ, Eileen, Mora, Amy and Tomiko were caught out in the open. Fortunately, many of the area’s undead had previously been at the attack on the clothing store. Most of them were still back there as charred corpses. They had been either in the store itself or surrounding the storefront on the street and were incinerated in the still raging inferno there.

  The group ran up and huddled under an awning. They were two blocks away from the conflagration now, and could still see the flames curling into the sky. Tomiko looked miserable as she gazed out at the teeming downpour. She had on a beautiful suede hunting vest with a number of different sized pockets. The rough skin was now completely soaked. Wriggling uncomfortably while standing there, she had last shrugged the sopping wet, waterlogged vest off and sadly tossed it aside. It landed with a heavy splat.

  Glancing at her, Rick said, “You might want to empty all of those pockets first. Wouldn’t want to forget anything valuable.”

  Looking down at her obviously expensive piece of clothing, she turned to Rick and said, “But there’s nothing in them.”

  Amused, Rick said, “All those pockets and there’s nothing in them? What are they for?”

  Tomiko looked at him. “Nothing. They look good.”

  Nodding his head as if discovering the true meaning of life, Rick said, “Aaaah.”

  “I don’t see any zombies roaming the streets,” noted PJ. Although it was night and very dark in the unlit city, the streets did indeed seem to be free of the undead.

  Smiling in understanding, Rick said, “You know, this downpour might be a godsend.”

  “Why?” asked Mora.

  “I noticed over the weeks,” Rick explained, “that the undead really don’t like to get wet. Whenever there was a rainstorm, the zombies would all wander inside the buildings or at least undercover to escape getting drenched. At first I thought it was a coincidence, but when it continued to happen I was sure of it.”

  For the first time since they left the rooftop, Amy turned and spoke. “But, why?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Rick. “Perhaps it has something to do with decaying. When those things get wet, it probably increases the decaying factor and they rot a lot faster.”

  “Oh, that’s pretty gross,” said Eileen.

  “Too bad,” said PJ, “a shower would do them some good. They stink.”

  “Well, as much as I don’t relish getting soaked either,” said Rick, “this would be an ideal time to make it through the streets a little safer.

  Tomiko looked up at the rain. “Great,” she groaned.

  Rick said, “Let’s keep to the middle of the street. We’ll still try to use the cars for cover. No use inciting them needlessly.”

  The six members of the group were about to leave when Amy said, “Wait.” They were standing in the doorway of a dry-cleaning business. The door was locked but one of the panes of glass in the entranceway was broken. Amy squeezed through the hole and disappeared into the darkened store. A few minutes later she emerged carrying an arm full of heavy jackets. “We can at least put these over our heads, so we won’t be too miserable.”

  “Good eye,” smiled PJ.

  Dividing the garments among them, they pulled them over their heads and filed out into the street. True to their observation, the bulk of any zombies they saw were inside. Of the ones that were merely standing under awnings or in entranceways, the group carefully crept past. By doing this they were able to traverse another fifteen blocks through the city. They also moved closer to the western edge of the island; and away from the major business areas. By this time the rain had started to let up. It was still coming down, but nowhere near as hard as it was. Now it was more like a summer shower.

  Rick and his group had just passed a block long construction site that was apparently filled with the undead. The entire site was surrounded by high wooden walls. Large pieces of plywood were nailed together in rows to form a large rectangle. They couldn’t see inside from their end, but they could hear the moaning cries of the undead within. It sounded like there were hundreds inside. Along the entire length of the wall they passed were pasted notes, posters, photos of individuals and scrawled letters to loved ones. These were the missing: the ones who left for work or school when the Pandora virus mutation hit the East Coast and never came home. Whether they themselves were infected or ran into somebody who was, their families would never know. They were either lying dead in some street or building or else staggering through the city looking for their next victim. Either way, to their family and friends, they were lost souls. The cruelest part was that while not knowing was devastating, having them turn up on your doorstep would be much worse. Much, much worse.

  18

  Austin and Jermaine were kneeling alongside a stranded FedEx truck. They were on Riverside Drive, looking up the Henry Hudson Parkway.

  “I think we’re looking good here,” spoke Austin. He had his binoculars out and scanning the length of the highway.

  “There doesn’t seem to be as many zombies on the streets here,” said his friend.

  The street here was row after row of tall apartment and condo buildings. Most of the zombies that had turned in this area did so inside their own dwellings. The majority of zombies on the street were from any vehicles that were abandoned; not so much from the side streets but more so from the Parkway that ran along the shoreline. There were many undead creatures still buckled into their seats. He could see them turning this way and that as their jaws opened and closed instinctively.

  “I think this may be a good opportunity to try to find some transportation,” said Austin.

  “A lot less dangerous than walking,” agreed Jermaine. “It would be nice to get out of this stinking rain.”

  Austin turned his head around and smiled at his friend. “Look at it like a free shower,” he joked.

  “Oh, yeah,” said Jermaine unsmiling. “I feel squeaky clean already.”

  Austin looked at the FedEx truck th
ey were squatting next to. He tried the door and found it unlocked. “Let’s go inside and look through the boxes,” he said. “Maybe we can find something from a food company. Or maybe, Amazon. They deal with food shipments, too.”

  Jermaine looked at it and grinned. “Now you’re talking,” he said.

  Both soldiers climbed inside the cab and entered into the back of the truck. There were still a lot of boxes stacked in the back. They each began sorting through the various sized packages, looking for companies that dealt in any type of food product.

  Austin paused and read the label on one, then hurriedly ripped it open. “Bingo!” he said. “Here, have some chocolate truffles.”

  Looking inside the box, Jermaine groaned, “Aw, they’re melted.”

  “So? They’re edible,” Austin pointed out while shoveling a handful into his mouth. Shrugging his shoulders, the hungry soldier reached in and pulled out a gooey handful.

  “Godiva,” Austin noted, grinning. His teeth and lips were coated brown with the candy delicacy. He swirled a finger around inside of the box and stuck it in his mouth. Sucking the melted truffles off with a loud slurp, he said in a food-garbled voice, “Mmm, this shit’s good.”

  Wiping his hand on the cardboard boxes around him, Jermaine continued shuffling through the contents of the delivery truck. Coming to a large carton with Amazon markings, he picked it up and shook it.

  “I think you’re right about Amazon,” Jermaine said. “This seems promising.” Ripping it open and looking inside he exclaimed, “Sweet Jesus, it’s the mother lode.”

  Still scraping the chocolate off his hand with his teeth, Austin leaned in. The carton contained twelve boxes of Mrs. Fields chocolate chip cookies. Snorting out a guffaw, the amused soldier said, “Sugar rush.”

  They each grabbed a box, tore it open and started to shovel the delicious cookies into their mouths. The crumbs became stuck to the melted truffles already coating their lips, giving them crunchy, cookie beards.

  Fifteen minutes later, Austin turned to Jermaine. Throwing an empty box over his shoulder, he said with a messy grin, “I think I’m going to puke.”

  Jermaine leaned back against the metal shelves and burped. He wiped his mouth casually with a damp sleeve and aimlessly looked around. His sated smile faltered as something caught his eye out of the back window.

  “Uh, oh,” he said, suddenly serious, “I think we might have company.”

  Austin grabbed for the weapon slung on his shoulder and looked out the window.

  “I see heads bobbing through the stalled traffic,” Jermaine said. “Twelve o’clock.”

  Focusing, Austin said, “Got them.”

  Squinting through the rain running down the glass, he put the binoculars up to his eyes. “They’re not Zs,” he said. “They’re people. I count four, no six.”

  He turned to Jermaine and said, “Let’s go meet them. See who they are.”

  “You sure?” asked Jermaine.

  “Yeah,” Austin said, “there looks like four girls and two guys. Seems like they’re holding stuff over their heads to try and keep dry. I guess they can’t be too badass.”

  Pointing to his friend’s face, Jermaine said, “If you want to make a good first impression, you’d better wipe the dessert off of your face there, Willy Wonka.”

  Quickly wiping his mouth on the soggy shoulder of his uniform, Austin went back to the front of the truck. He could watch the incoming group’s progress in the large side mirror of the truck. Dawn was just breaking. There was just enough light to see by.

  As the group came up alongside the truck, Austin jumped to the ground, his rifle pointed at the group. Jermaine followed him out.

  “Stop right there!” barked Austin. The six people froze in place, arms raised.

  “Don’t shoot, don’t shoot,” Rick gasped.

  “Please don’t kill us,” begged Eileen.

  “Just keep your hands up,” stated Austin. “Are you armed?”

  Nodding his head rapidly Rick said, “Yes.”

  “All right,” Austin said slowly, “you can lower your hands, but no sudden moves.”

  As the group warily dropped their arms, Amy spoke up. “You guys are army, right?”

  “National Guard,” Jermaine informed them. “The 69th Infantry Battalion.”

  “Oh, thank God,” PJ said smiling.

  Rick asked, “Where are the rest of you?”

  The two soldiers looked at each other. “We’re it.”

  “What… a battalion?” stammered PJ. “Shouldn’t there be like hundreds of you?”

  “There was,” Austin said. “We’re all that made it.” The new group of survivors looked at them in shock. They couldn’t believe what they heard.

  Seeing how crestfallen the six sopping wet souls were, Jermaine added, “The rest of the battalion has retreated to one of the islands offshore. Governors or Ellis, perhaps.”

  “So,” asked Rick hesitantly, “so you are the only ones in Manhattan? Just you two?”

  Shrugging, Austin said, “That we know of any way. We were all attacked in Times Square about a month ago. They swarmed us. Thousands of them. Command sent birds to pick us up, but there were just too many zombies. It was a frigging massacre.”

  “We were stationed at the Midtown Ferry terminal quarantine station,” Jermaine said.

  “Yeah,” stated Rick, “we tried to get through there. Then the whole place went crazy and we barely made it out.”

  Nodding his head in remembrance, Austin said, “The infected we had separated there got loose. The place was so packed with people that they were attacking everyone. We couldn’t get a shot off without hitting the uninfected civilians. It was a major clusterfuck. The whole thing turned to shit.”

  “What are you going to do?” Amy asked.

  “We were looking for a boat to get off this island,” Jermaine said.

  “Hey! Us, too,” said PJ.

  “Trust me,” growled Austin in disgust, “you can forget that idea. We tried. There’s nothing left.”

  Now hit with the second round of bad news, Rick’s group was reeling. “Now what?” murmured Tomiko and Mora.

  “We’re heading for the George Washington Bridge,” said Austin helpfully. “We figured we’d try Jersey and see what we could do.” Glancing at Jermaine, Austin added, “you’re welcome to tag along with us if you want.”

  “We want to return to New Jersey,” PJ blurted out. “That’s where we’re from.”

  “Some of us,” Amy mumbled.

  PJ continued on nonplussed, “We’re trying to get home.”

  Looking at them, Austin said, “Listen, why don’t the six of you go inside the FedEx truck and dry off. There’s a big box of cookies in there. Help yourselves. We’ll go and see if we can get us some transportation now that there are eight of us.”

  “Cookies?” Eileen squeaked in wondrous excitement.

  Chuckling, Jermaine pointed his thumb in the vehicle’s door and said, “Yeah. Mrs. Fields. And they’re damn good, too.” The six hungry individuals rushed aboard the truck, heading for the greatly appreciated food.

  Austin and Jermaine shook their heads, grinning, and headed for Riverside Drive. It was getting light now that the sun was poking over the horizon. The rain that had kept the undead off the streets was starting to dissipate. As the clouds parted, rays of sunlight peeked through. They had better find some wheels in a hurry or they would be targets for the undead when they all reemerged.

  The two soldiers spent twenty minutes going from vehicle to vehicle looking for a suitable mode of transportation. They were not having any luck. Either the batteries were dead; they were involved in collisions, or else were filled with undead occupants clawing at the gore-coated windows.

  “Forget it,” Austin said in frustration. “We’ll find something further down the road.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Jermaine, “this is a bust.”

  Trotting back to the delivery truck, the two soldiers gathered the rest
of the survivors and they left the area. Most brought a box of cookies with them. They then crossed over into the long expanse of Riverside Park. This was a large city park near the water that ran all the way up to West 125th Street.

  “We should be okay here,” Austin pointed out as they walked through the heavily treed park.

  “He’s right,” Jermaine said. “I live in Harlem and we should have an easy walk through this area. I doubt there will be many zombies wandering around in here. Most are all on the streets and in the buildings. The only ones we might come across are the ones that abandoned their cars or who maybe chased somebody into the park. There’s no other reason for them to come in here.”

  True to that bold prediction, the new and enlarged group found Riverside Park relatively zombie free. Finally, at around West 112th Street, the previous cookie binge caught up with everyone. Mora stopped short and slapped her hand to her mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” PJ asked as she stood there. Looking over her hand with alarm, she ran off the path. Then, leaning against a tree Mora vomited the contents of her stomach out. Everyone crinkled their noses and looked away. Most were feeling a bit queasy from the long walk with the stomach full of sweets. Unable to control herself, Tomiko bent over and vomited also.

  Is Austin looked at Jermaine, the tired soldier look back and said, “I know. I ain’t feeling that great myself. Eating so many cookies was just stupid.”

  Nodding an affirmative, Austin said, “Maybe we should try to find a ride again.”

  Turning to the group, he said, “All right everyone, take a break. Jer and I will go and see if we could find a vehicle to use. Just wait here. We’ll be back soon.”