The Reaper Virus

by Nathan Barnes

  This burst of violent life was short lived. I could understand how it would be an effective tactic for catching prey. The crowd out front had gotten so dense that any lunges were met with a fellow zombie or the side of our building. I wish I knew what was causing them to randomly attack. Were they hearing something? Seeing something? Even smelling something? Before long they returned to their upright rigor. At least they had a short attention span.

  Note to self: Don’t get into a confined space with the infected. The lunge is fast enough to spell doom without some room to maneuver.

  Chapter 7

  Escape Plan

  0900 hours:

  The corporal came into dispatch right after we finished watching the frenzy that took place in front of the building. He grabbed the security master key set from the key box we oversee and a few minutes later he returned them and asked for our attention.

  “I’ve manually locked all exterior doors to our building. No one is to attempt exiting until help arrives. Keep up the good work, we will get through this.”

  He’s always sucked as a commanding officer… he sucks even more at lying.

  * * *

  1111 hours:

  I tried calling the house. The call didn’t connect, and I’m pretty sure the problem was on my end. It seemed like maybe one in ten calls got through. I had to tell myself it was because of the phone network. If I started thinking about something bad happening at the house, well I was pretty sure I’d completely lose it.

  Over the past few hours the phone calls lessened to the point of only coming in sporadically. The phone was still ringing a lot; but not with all eighteen lines coming at once. Maybe one or two would ring at a time. Sometimes we answered it and others got ignored. All four of us were kind of taking turns picking them up. There was no sense in all of us sinking into a depression from answering a desperate call every minute. It was quite ironic that we were stuck at a job of answering phones and helping people when we couldn’t really do either.

  About ninety percent of our monitored buildings were in communication failure. Chances were that the majority of those were also wide open. We were getting regular updates from the officers at GRC. Every student and room was checked for signs of infection. Twenty-six infected were found in locked dorm rooms. The building was clear at the moment. They were running out of ammo, but it sounded like the students pooled together enough food for the near future. If the gates around the building held they would be okay until supplies dwindled.

  At least I was with people I could talk to. I had known Brad for a few years. He was a good guy, but needed to stop talking about going to his car for his gun. It was funny how a suicide mission was looked at differently by a southern gun nut. Erin had always been tolerable. She had a good sense of humor and was easy to playfully pick on. I found out New Girl’s name was actually Christine. She wasn’t saying much. In fact, she was quiet enough to be concerned about. I guess everyone responded to the apocalypse in their own way. Christine was either going into shock or retreating deep into her thoughts to escape this hell.

  Lance came into dispatch and asked me to meet him out in the hall. Only Brad seemed to take notice of the request. The girls were staring at the camera monitor with unflinching focus.

  * * *

  1205 hours:

  The entrance to side B was a double glass door. It led to a central hallway that passed the walkway to dispatch, up to the commanders’ offices, then opened up to the kitchen and past the large read-off room before finally reaching the bathrooms and back door. Think of it like a dividing artery for our entire building. I met Lance in front of the doors.

  Normally the hustle of Grace Street was visible on the other side of the tinted bulletproof doors. Now all you could see was a mob of infected. Fists pounded on the doors non-stop, leaving sickening smears where hands had been beaten raw. Our presence near the door stirred the hornets’ nest.

  The sound was deafening. Banging, gurgling, moaning, and shrieking. I couldn’t hear whatever Lance was saying. Realizing this, he took his baton out. Seeing him flick it open sent a chill down my spine. I repressed the memories as I watched my friend use the weapon as a pointer. He directed my attention to various places on the doors. I was getting tired of that heart sinking feeling…

  Constant stress from the ever-growing group was taking a toll on the sturdy doors. The glass nearly bulged and the doorframe rocked on its hinges. For the moment, the magnetic seal was holding. At least the deadbolt should keep them out just a little longer. Sure, it wouldn’t hold forever, but it would buy us some time.

  We left the front and walked to the back near the bathrooms. It was still noisy, but you could hear a person talking in front of you.

  “Lance those doors are going to come down. And when they do...” I said just loud enough for him to hear.

  “I know, Nathan. I know. Listen, I have to tell you about something that happened.” His tone of voice and expression reminded me of when we met at the Third Street Diner. “One of the other security kids helped us clean up the mess in the kitchen. The corporal opened the door to C and we secured the wing. Aside from some things the captain knocked over, everything was fine. We put the bodies in one of the smaller offices and shut the door. That side is still separated so hopefully the smell won’t get to us for a while. The security kid didn’t say a word when we were cleaning up the mess. I thought he was walking to the bathroom to wash his hands off. Then I heard the back door open. He hit the button and walked right out. I ran to catch him. Before the door slammed shut I saw him get halfway into the alley before three of them swarmed. The door shut but I could still hear his screams.”

  After pondering it for a moment I said, “So is that why the corporal key-locked the building?”

  I think I was building up a tolerance to tragedy.

  “Yeah, but everyone is talking about getting a group together to try and get to GRC. They think a way can be found to street level from the roof. It’s a death wish if you ask me. Don’t get me wrong, I want to help them, but I’m not in a hurry to get killed. Everyone is going about like help is coming. Do you think help is coming? Because I think we may be fucked this time,” he said, his exhaustion overly apparent.

  I thought for a second. “Lance, I may have an idea. I’ve got to work some things out first and try and get a read on some of our fellow inmates. Meet me back here at 1500 hours. Bring what you need to take with you, because I’m not planning on coming back to this godforsaken place. In the meantime take a damn nap. I’ll try to do the same. Something tells me we’re going to need it.”

  * * *

  1300 hours:

  In a perfect world escape from such a situation would involve everyone trapped getting out. However, this was far from a perfect world. I never thought I would be dreaming up a plan to escape a horrifying death without including the people I’d been working with for years, but there I was, doing just that.

  Was I willing to sacrifice some of my humanity for self-benefit? Then again, it wasn’t entirely for me. I absolutely had to get back to my family. That was something I would sacrifice anything or anyone for.

  Looking at the ravenous abominable mass outside our building I was beginning to question where the line between human and inhuman really was.

  The corporal came in and gave us a handwritten schedule for when officers would be on the roof thinning out the infected crowd. Personally, I thought it was a futile effort. Futility aside, it brought up everyone’s spirits to see something being done.

  Next firing squad started at 1500 hours. That was the first good news in days. A bunch of potential obstacles to our escape would be on the roof raining bullets on the infected. The gunshots and activity should provide a much needed distraction both inside and out.

  I was using my secluded cubicle to go over my plan. There was a very basic campus map in one of the supply drawers that made its way to my desk when no one was looking. I’d been writing notes on it and tracing a path with a sh
arpie marker. I could only spend a little while looking at the map. Meanwhile I was watching my coworkers closely. When the time was right I had to sneak over and steal the master key set. I was trying not to think about how doing such a thing could land me in prison.

  I observed my friends, saddened by what I saw. Brad wasn’t saying much. The girls were making it out like help would actually come. Christine made some remark about the corporal doing a good job and feeling safe with the doors latched. It was a bunch of bullshit in my opinion.

  The plan would have to do. There wasn’t much time left before I met up with Lance. Plus it was finally my allotted “nap time”. I wouldn’t sleep, but I had to rest. Timing would be pivotal in getting out of this tomb. With such uncertainty ahead of me, God only knew what was coming. Wherever God was, the only certainty now was that he was definitely not watching.

  * * *

  1435 hours:

  I got up from my nap a little early and offered Brad the extra time. This was all part of my plan. He declined and offered his slot to Christine. The plan was having problems already… wonderful. Brad was the only one in the room bright enough to notice that I was up to something. I couldn’t let this slow me down. If this was going to work (emphasis on if), action must be taken immediately.

  Erin had made the alarm monitoring station her home. Luckily she was easily distracted. If not, it might be harder to get her to look away from the screen long enough to conceal my tampering. The computer at my cubicle campsite had the alarm monitoring station program copied on it. I opened up the manual actions and found the door leading to C. This was the same door the late captain came out of.

  Even though most of the buildings were down, all doors for headquarters were still controllable, at least the interior ones, and the key locked doors would stay shut. The action was programmed; all I had to do was hit OK.

  Once I submitted it, the action would show on a recent events area at the bottom of Erin’s screen. I just needed about thirty seconds and it should disappear from view.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t bring everything I’d packed. If I didn’t give the impression that I was just stepping out of the room, questions would be asked. My excuse was that I was taking my pack to the bathroom to change and wash myself up in the sink. I figured that was reasonable enough.

  The plan had NO wiggle room whatsoever. Everything had to be right on the dot; any deviations would likely lead to failure and failure could mean death. The idea of my life riding on something so constricted was nauseating.

  Here was the time frame:

  1) 1452 hours – draw attention away from the computers and click OK on the manual action to unlock the kitchen to C door from 1501 to 1502 hours,

  2) 1457 hours – use my bathroom excuse,

  3) 1500 hours – meet up with Lance,

  4) 1501 hours – make it through the door and pray no one spots us crossing to the other side. After fifteen minutes my absence will be noticed.

  My hope was that the kitchen area would be vacated. If not… well we might be able to talk our way through it. As far as everyone else knew the building was sealed. What was the difference if we went in the admin side?

  Another concern was Lance not being there, but I was pretty sure he’d do everything possible to get out of roof duty. If he was not there when I got through the door I’d have a twenty second window to prop it open before an alarm went off. I’d rather not consider the possibility of him not showing up. Leaving everyone in dispatch was enough to eat away at me. Having to leave someone who saved my life the other day was just too much. Assuming we made it that far, we’d head to the basement.

  If this worked we’d be out of there. Granted, that would present a plethora of new problems. If it didn’t, then either they would lock us in a room and the zombies would break in long before they figured out what to do with us, or I’d end up back in dispatch like nothing happened.

  I tried calling home to tell Sarah I was coming, but it didn’t connect. I couldn’t afford the distraction of thinking about why the call didn’t go through. I was just watching the monitor to look for a grisly enough looking infected worthy of people going to the window to witness. If we made it out and to a safe place that would be reward enough. Otherwise I’d either be dead or trapped.

  The butterflies filling my stomach felt like they had fucking acid reflux. It was 1450 hours and I’d found my distraction. Thank God for small favors.

  Chapter 8

  Into the Void

  1507 hours:

  Lance was waiting, as scheduled. He looked anxious and confused, in other words, his appearance was mimicking my feelings, but I couldn’t dwell on that. Getting to my family was the most important thing right now, and if we didn’t seize this chance then it probably wouldn’t happen at all. Thankfully Lance had brought his bag of whatever he deemed worthy.

  No one was in the kitchen area. The two remaining security officers were napping in the read-off room, which made the coast clear for us. I motioned towards the door leading to C. The only visual indication of the magnetic door’s state would be from the lights on the small pad where cards were swiped. I saw the solid red lights and knew the door was still locked. If the plan worked those lights would change green in the next few minutes. Lance followed me to the door without question. It was good to know trust was still possible in a world turned upside-down. That trust could be our only lifeline once we made it out into the streets.

  At 1500 hours on the dot I heard the gunfire begin. The guys were on the roof as scheduled, busy thinning out the monsters that the dead were turning into. Within seconds of the first shot, red lights turned to green on the magnetic lock. The door was unlocked and everything was going as planned, but it was too early for any sighs of relief yet.

  I quickly surveyed our surroundings and when I was convinced that no one was watching, I pulled open the door and motioned Lance through. The large metal door normally closed with a bang, but this time I eased it closed and it barely made a sound. I allowed myself a moment of self-satisfaction for getting this far.

  Forty-five seconds after the door unlocked, we were down the quiet hallway and about to make the right turn for the basement stairs. That’s when I heard the metal door ease open.

  Fifteen feet away from the basement doorway, we froze in place. I swung around to see the source of potential disaster. In a moment of both surprise and curious relief, Brad stood at the now closed door.

  “Come on, man, did you really think I didn’t know you were up to something?” he immediately said in a low tone. Before I could respond to him, he put up his hand and stopped me. “Although I have no idea how… I know you’re planning on getting out of here. Whatever you’re going to do, I want in.”

  Lance and I exchanged a glance and then a nod. Our newly formed trio continued down the stairs to the basement. The basement housed the records storage, ammunition storage, supplies, and the evidence room. Every door in there led to a room containing either a shit ton of private information or a sampling of all things illegal and volatile. With the exception of the evidence room, none of the doors were monitored on the alarm system, but both the evidence room and ammunition storage room had unique locks. The keys for those doors were only given to the property manager and the Chief of Police. It was a shame – we could have really used any of the things in those rooms.

  “Nathan, what the fuck are we doing?” Lance said in a loud whisper.

  I talked as we slowly progressed. “Years ago, when I left the academy, I spent my last two weeks doing clerical shit around the building. One day I was asked to help the property manager bring some boxes down into the supply room. We went into the room that is basically the far west corner of the building. Once we got into the room I set the boxes down and took a quick look at all the goodies around me. All the way in the corner I saw blackness. The wall disappears into an opening the size of a double door. At first I thought it was just a little storage alcove or something, but I realized this ho
le in the wall didn’t look like it ended.”

  We continued down the hall quietly and cautiously. After a deep breath I explained further.

  “Naturally I asked the property manager what it was. He didn’t explain, in fact, he didn’t say much at all, except that it was their entrance to the tunnel. Pursuing further, I asked him where it led to. He told me ‘Not far’. At that point I stopped questioning and just kept it in the back of my mind.”

  Both Lance and Brad looked hesitantly curious.

  “Although I’ve been down in the basement a bunch of times, I haven’t been able to go back in that room since that day. And since that day almost seven years ago I have pondered the mystery of that void in the wall. No one seems to know much about it. Either that or they won’t tell me. My guess is the tunnel leads across to West Franklin Street where the old dispatch and administrative offices were. Assuming this is the case, it would get us away from here and the hoard it has drawn. Hopefully, Franklin Street is a little quieter. If we make it that far, we’ll take it from there. Either way, it will get us away from here.”