The Reaper Virus

by Nathan Barnes

  “Flirted the info out of a nurse down in Trauma who has a crush on me. Hippie kid is dead. He was hooked up to all the monitors and restrained. Then he flatlined, the defibrillator had no effect. They called it and shut the monitors down. Sweet Thing said his eyes were wide open still and had turned all dark like his veins. The doc reached forward to shut the kids’ eyes when the bastard lurched forward and bit onto his hand. He didn’t let go until an orderly put a fire ax into the top of his skull. It’s all going to hell man – it may be about time to cut and run.”

  * * *

  0155 hours:

  A lot of reports of promiscuous shooting had come in from all around the campus. In the past, calls like these were countered with a flurry of police activity in the area. But with everything that was going on it felt like “shots fired” was becoming a non-event. Many of those times we would get reports of someone getting hit by a bullet. I could count on one hand how many times I had been there when a person would be found dead afterwards. One time the victim wasn’t found until a few hours later. An anonymous caller let us know that someone was passed out behind a vacant building. The call was broadcasted as a “man down”. These were a high priority but typically turned out to be some drunk kid or sleeping bum. With all these bullets flying through the air I expected every other call to be just like the person dead behind a vacant building. No man down calls so far, but I was just waiting to hear it.

  They took all radio control for the east/hospital campus away from us. Before things got all crazy the officers would arrive for duty or leave for the day and we always saw them at headquarters. Once they had done everything they needed to on our side of the area, they’d make the trek across the city to the hospital. Geographically it wasn’t a huge distance, but the misdeeds that accompanied a typical shift made it feel like my officers were in another country. The radio, as always, was the connector between us and them. When a dispatcher couldn’t talk to their officer any distance felt magnified tenfold.

  There was a smaller radio room in one of the basement areas down east that had become a full time radio room for all emergency personnel at the hospital. No clue who was working this new room, but it was definitely not any of our people. That said, we hadn’t been told anything officially yet, but I heard the National Guard was taking over securing the hospital area of our jurisdiction. It was believable too because the majority of the hospital units were back on our side of the city. I say most because they wouldn’t tell us what was going on with the others. My guess was they were dead or infected. Although when it came down to it, dead and infected were kind of the same thing now.

  * * *

  0239 hours:

  The “Zombie” word was out – all over the internet at least. None of the major networks were saying it yet, there was only some word that the CDC was planning another press conference. Some good a press conference would do when the world was going to shit, but I’d let them have their jollies while they could. Who knew? Maybe they’d give us some insight into this. One could wish.

  I called it with predicting the man down calls. There had been two of them in the past thirty minutes. From what I could gather, both were infected. I couldn’t get any info on the cause of death, suspects, etcetera, but they called in the investigative sergeants from home to respond to the scene. Everything was becoming very hush-hush, and it was getting that way fast. Too fast for comfort.

  If the following night wasn’t my last day before a few off, I might have had to use up some sick time. I was debating whether it was a good idea to go straight to the farm or try and sit it out at home for a little while. My ever dwindling optimistic side wanted to believe this would blow over in a week or so. The pessimistic side argued that the human race was doomed. I didn’t know what to do, but I figured that staying home and protecting my family might be the best thing. The inner-conflict took hold of me as I weighed the options. There was the dependable employee in me who was well aware that any extended and unnecessary time away from work could jeopardize my job. But beyond all of that was the husband and father in me… that was the side that saw a coming darkness and refused to let it envelop his family.

  One more day on and I realized that I had to take advantage of this and find out as much as possible. Then if and when we did have to run, we weren’t running blind.

  * * *

  0637 hours:

  The news was reporting that they had lost contact with large portions of Seattle, Sacramento, Tucson, Kansas City, Tallahassee, and Rochester. Lost contact? What in the hell did that mean? I wondered if those were cities hit hard by the R32PR strain. If so, it was morbidly logical that they would be epicenters for the Reaper virus.

  I spent the afternoon getting things ready just in case we had to go in a hurry. At the very least it would be smart to make sure the bags were packed. The car would be a tight fit with everything I’d collected, but it would have to do. I’d much rather have too much than not enough.

  A few people on day shift had already called out… typical. Thank God I’d already served my mandatory overtime sentence for the week. I always ended up having to stay over or come in early when it was least convenient. Murphy’s Law can be a bitch.

  * * *

  1000 hours:

  The CDC released another statement:

  “The pandemic is growing at an alarming rate. Several urban centers that previously reported high saturation levels of the R32PR virus have become overrun with carriers of the R33PR strain. Specially equipped containment teams have been dispatched to these areas to enforce quarantine protocol and prevent further spread to surrounding areas. It is imperative … imperative that healthy citizens defend themselves against the afflicted. Violent outbursts from those in the final stages of infection are believed to be the leading cause of new infection. We cannot stress enough that any healthy individual in close proximity to a suspected case of the Reaper virus exercise caution, avoidance, and isolation.”

  Just one more night of work to get through, but I’d never been more anxious about going in for a shift. I just wanted to get through it so I could worry about staying on my side of the river and away from the city.

  A police station should be the safest place in a disaster right? My worst nightmare would be getting trapped in dispatch. I doubted it would ever come to that, but getting a bag together, a survival pack of sorts, put me at ease. I don’t know, perhaps I was paranoid? In this day and age it might have been better to be paranoid though, just in case…

  In my mind, a survival pack entailed the following: Essentials like a box of power bars, a water bottle, a flashlight or two (with several sets of spare batteries), and a change of clothes. I was debating what the CDC statement about “defending yourself” really meant. Should I have been taking a weapon with me? Granted, I would be in a building staffed by people with guns, but I was armed with… a pen and a headset? I know they always say that the pen is mightier than the sword, but wasn’t sure how a little bit of Shakespeare would keep a ravenous freak from ripping my face off.

  I’d collected swords for years. Most were for display only, the kind of shiny thing on your wall that would break in two if it were ever used in combat, but my favorite had always been something called a Kukri. Picture a cross between an axe and a knife, or even a machete mixed with a boomerang. Its design is ancient, one that is meant for chopping off an appendage with little effort. The thing was heavy and it even came with a belt scabbard of sorts. As far as I know it was genuine, from Nepal I think. My brother and I found it in a thrift store in Harrisonburg, VA when I was visiting him in college. Those were much less stressful times.

  Instinct told me to bring the rifle. It wasn’t exactly an inconspicuous weapon, but what if something were to happen around our house? The thought of leaving Sarah unarmed with fucking zombies running amok was too much for me to even think about. So I guessed that I should leave it for her and the kids. I took the Kukri with me to work that night. If I got pulled over on the way I’d
be written up for possession of a concealed weapon – after all it is the size of a machete. Oh well, it could stay in the trunk. Something told me the state troopers had better things to do than pulling over a uniformed dispatcher with a kick-ass sword in his trunk.

  * * *

  1700 hours:

  I took a short nap. My new trend seemed to be getting a restless few hours of sleep followed by more fully conscious worrying. I spent the rest of that afternoon playing in the backyard with Maddox and Calise. The boy had become quite the little soccer star. We kicked that ball back and forth in the grass for a couple hours with Calise in a giggle-filled chase after it. Enjoying myself made it a little easier to hide my inner worry from the kids. With so much worry everywhere we looked, they didn’t ever need to know their daddy was feeling it too. For a little while there, I almost forgot the world was basically tearing itself apart.

  A few years before that, when Calise was two, I fenced in the backyard so the kids could play a little more safely. Most of it was already fenced in from other people’s yards; I just finished the job and fixed up what was already there. In hindsight, it was the best home improvement I ever made. I was actually able to relax… some. It was nice just enjoying the moment without having to look around in a paranoid search for a danger that would probably never come.

  Mom called again to check in. She stressed her wish that we were already on our way down there. I assured her that we would leave after I got home from work that morning. At least that got her to back down. She handed the phone over to my dad after that and I went into the other room. I told him what I knew, all of it. He was silent for a minute or two. In reality I knew he was debating over talking to me like I was eighteen years old. You know, the “I can’t tell you what to do because you’re an adult, but you should really consider doing this” talk? But he didn’t. Instead he told me just to be careful and to use my best judgment. I could hear it in his voice; he knew this was going to get real bad, real quick.

  He changed the subject as soon as he could and started talking about the farm and what he had been doing to prepare for the long haul. Disaster or not, I wouldn’t be surprised if they stayed down there indefinitely.

  After all the time spent on the phone I needed to get out. It was time to start boarding up windows. Five or six other houses in the neighborhood had already been sealed tight, so I wouldn’t feel too odd doing it as well. If I involved Maddox in the handiwork it would look even less strange. The boy loved helping me build things; I loved spending the time with him.

  I devised a way to secure the house, but also make room for an emergency exit. Directly beneath our bedroom window was a metal stand for the garden hose. It was solidly mounted in the ground and could make for a good step up/down to the window. My plan was to put the lower boards on a hinge to make it so they could swing out. That way we could get out into the backyard pretty discreetly. I had some old hardware that could be used as a locking mechanism from the inside. If it worked, it’d be like a secret door but still strong enough to fortify the window. After that was sorted, I loaded up the car. The year before, we bought a little hatchback suitable for a family of four. I packed as much as possible inside and on the roof rack. If we had to go in a hurry, I didn’t want to stop to pack the damn car. We were stocked up enough that loading the car wouldn’t take away from supplies in the house.

  * * *

  2140 hours:

  Normal Sunday night Fox shows were interrupted for a breaking news conference from the White House. Immediately my heart sank. Any breaking news at that time had about a 99% chance of being bad news.

  The screen went to a shot of the president standing next to the CDC director at a podium stamped with the White House seal. It was like watching a horrendous car wreck – I couldn’t look away. I could almost hear my heart palpitating.

  The president spoke first, briefly. He introduced Dr. Thomas Frieden, director of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. He then prefaced that there would be no questions following the good doctor’s update or any final remarks made by himself. Silence fell over the crowd of reporters as he stepped aside and Dr. Frieden took the podium.

  I felt like I was going to vomit… even the butterflies in my stomach were nauseous.

  “Laboratories around the globe have made combating the R33PR “Reaper” virus their main priority. Regrettably, I must announce that little to no progress has been made in combating the voracious spread of this pandemic. The purpose of this press conference tonight is to address recent claims and rumors spreading worldwide. Our understanding of the virus thus far has been that symptoms increase in severity before leading to extremely violent behavior in the infected.”

  Sarah was snuggled on my left side, practically fused to me in her typical sweet cuddly way. The more the news conference progressed, the less blood circulated in my hand currently entwined within hers.

  “We previously believed that this violent behavior was possibly the result of increased adrenaline production in afflicted subjects or even purely coincidental. However, it is now believed that such outbursts are experienced in all subjects infected with the Reaper strain. Unlike its predecessor, mortality rate is one-hundred percent for this mutation. Recent outlandish claims are that the infected subject succumbs to the virus, and then engages in violent behavior after death. It must be noted that the only reason this is even being discussed is because this rumor has been circulated from independent sources around the world. ALL current medical data concludes that such a thing is not possible after death. The only reason it is even being investigated is because of the unusual nature of this virus.”

  Dr. Frieden quietly stepped aside as the president moved back to the spotlight.

  “It goes without saying that we are all affected by this pandemic. I ask all citizens to remain calm and avoid panic. Federal agencies are working diligently to support local hospitals and enforce containment. As difficult as it may be, it is vital that anyone exposed to an infected subject proceed with caution.”

  He talked a little longer but we didn’t listen. Sarah gripped my hand tighter and looked me in the eyes. For a second I had to fight a smile – even with such a worrisome expression on her face, I was struck by her beauty. She told me she didn’t think I should go to work that night. I told her I had one more night to get through and we could either leave town or enjoy a campout in the house.

  She backed down after I showed her my survival pack – Kukri included. It also helped that she knew I was going to a building filled with trained marksmen. I’d decided to trade in my shiny dress shoes for my police-grade combat boots. I loved those things and I’d barely worn them. They were an unreturned leftover from the police academy. Call it a consolation prize if you must.

  * * *

  2334 hours:

  Every mile that brought me closer to work made me want to turn around a little more. In fact, I probably would have if there were fewer cars going the other direction. The unusual thing about the traffic wasn’t that there was a lot of it, but that it was going in both directions. It gave me the impression that everyone was trying to run away – yet no one really knew where to run.

  Even though traffic was moderate around the parking deck it was fairly barren on the inside. It reminded me of parking over a holiday weekend. I parked at my preferred spot on the Academic Parking Deck, without incident. For years I’d always parked my car on the second level, far northwest corner, with a good view overlooking Broad Street. The deck was six levels and backed up to our building with an alley separating the two. We had three back doors leading to the various sections of our department, all sealed with a maglock backed by a generator. Our door wasn’t labeled and was easy enough to sneak in and out of - assuming there wasn’t a line of patrol cars parked in the alley.

  After surveying the area I decided things looked active, but not violent or anything. It reminded me of Broad Street on New Year’s Eve. I debated bringing my survival pack inside. It was usually fro
wned upon to bring a large machete-style knife into a police station, employee or not, so siding with my responsible side, I left the pack in my trunk. I hoped it was the right decision this time around.

  Walking down the twenty-eight concrete steps and the hundred feet or so to the back middle door I took a moment to observe my surroundings. Looking around at the moderate activity I tried to put myself at ease. I didn’t see any obviously infected people. There had been days with busier traffic than this. Then I walked inside.

  Think of a hornets’ nest after some kid poked it with a stick. It was a flurry of activity, none of it as organized as a para-military organization should be. My stomach sank for the second time in as many hours. Both doors to the read-off room were closed, always a sign that something big was going on. Walking down the long hallway to dispatch I expected to hear more activity. After going through the thick wooden doors I was perplexed to find things more on the quiet side.

  The student escort service, which was essentially a free taxi for ungrateful students/staff, had been suspended indefinitely. I’m told it was an order that came from the university president in an attempt to quell any spread of the virus.

  On top of that, all classes had been cancelled. The university was locked up tight; essential personnel were the only employees required to report. This of course meant us.