“John, I can’t believe what I’m seeing over here on Fayetteville Street. People are going crazy, eating each other. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Back at the studio, the anchor replied in a much calmer tone, “Any idea what the culprit behind this is, Brenda?”
The reporter covered her ears so she could hear the anchor over the noise. “Just rumors so far. Everyone is advised to stay inside and lock their doors.”
Behind her, smoke billowed out from nearby buildings. Sirens were screaming in the distance, and gunshots could be heard in the background.
The cameraman shifted around to give the viewers a shot of their surroundings. People were running as though their lives depended on it, rushing past the cameraman and reporter. Children were being yanked along by hysterical parents. Some people were pulling beloved pets on taut leashes. Dogs barked and snarled wildly at an unseen threat behind them. Haven wondered what they were running from.
A young woman tripped and fell a few yards away from the camera, but no one paused to help her up. She was rising to her knees when a throng of people reached her. The first two runners knocked her off balance. She was just beginning to reach out for help when the next batch plowed over her, crushing her outreached arm. Haven and her grandmother watched in horror as she was trampled by dozens of feet, her face contorted in a silent scream as her skull caved from the pressure.
She did not get up again.
Haven nervously plucked at the tassel on a nearby pillow. The violence in front of her was like an action movie come to life. Beyond the horrors of wars abroad being captured by a cell phone and then going viral on-line for the world to see, Haven had never witnessed destruction on this scale, especially in her own country. She had never seen her people running for their lives so maniacally that they trampled and killed their own without even a second thought. A part of her wanted to see what was causing the horrific panic, but the rest of her desired nothing more than to erase the trampled woman’s death entirely from her memory. Haven wondered what she would have done if she had passed the fallen woman as she raced by. Would she have stopped to help her, a stranger? At first, she liked to think that she would have, but in truth, the scenario forced her to question her humanity, and she realized then that if it wasn’t someone she loved, she would have kept on running like the rest of them.
She told herself that whatever was happening there would never reach her. The danger was in Raleigh, two states away. It would be taken care of, contained by law enforcement and military. But Houston... Inwardly she felt paralyzing fear, and she didn’t know why.
Haven didn’t want to unnecessarily worry her grandmother by voicing her concerns aloud. She pursed her lips into a tight line and determinedly stared ahead.
Police and firemen could be seen yelling commands to the crowd, and many of the officers had their weapons out, ready to fire.
In mere moments, the crowd that had rushed past the camera seemed to thin out then, the corpse of the stampeded woman the sole reminder that they had passed. A few stragglers ran by the reporter and cameraman. One woman clutched a child close to her bosom, her arms and torso covered in blood. She was sobbing hysterically.
The reporter turned towards the camera, her face ashen in fear. “I haven’t seen anything like this since I was in Afghanistan, John. As you can see, chaos is everywhere. People are terrified.” She paused suddenly, tilting her head slightly. “Mac, do you hear that?”
A low buzzing sound coupled with a steady rumble reverberated around the news crew.
“What is that?” Haven asked aloud, fear building up inside of her. She was glad to be safe in the confines of her grandmother’s home, far away from this surreal horror, but her palms were sweaty as she thought about Houston and his proximity to the danger.
The cameraman was moving the camera wildly in different directions, trying to ascertain the source of the sound. Haven felt dizzy as she watched the screen.
Considering how frenzied and chaotic everything had been before, the city now seemed eerie and desolate.
The camera had just skimmed past a cluster of buildings when Haven saw something moving amongst the smoke and rubble. Apparently, the cameraman did, as well, because he quickly shifted back to the movement. Dark shadows began to materialize from the smoke. There were hundreds of them.
The cameraman zoomed in to get a better look. Unfortunately, he zoomed in so quickly in his haste that Haven and her grandmother found themselves figuratively face to face with a hideous-looking man, eyes white and vacant, mouth open wide, scraps of flesh hanging from his jaw. Purple veins blatantly protruded from his forehead, and small bite marks covered his left cheek and neck. They both yelped, for a second forgetting that this was an image on their TV, not in their window.
Her grandmother gained her composure and cleared her throat. “Why does he look like that?”
Haven peered at the image and wrinkled her nose in disgust. “He looks… sick.”
The reporter began to shout. “Oh, dear God, they’re coming! Mac, are you getting this?”
The cameraman had finally zoomed back out after recovering from the shock of seeing the disfigured man so closely in his lens. “I think I crapped my pants,” he muttered, not caring that they were airing live. “Brenda, we need to get out here. Fast.”
“Just a few more seconds, Mac,” the reporter insisted, thoroughly intent on getting the story from the source. Several figures appeared out of the dust and smoke. They shambled pointedly towards the reporter and cameraman.
Haven realized that the droning they had heard earlier in the broadcast was emanating from them. The camera now showed hundreds of shambling figures coming from around buildings, down roads, and out of nearby businesses. Like the terrified crowd that had passed before, they headed in the same direction. They were probably only fifty yards away from the broadcasting duo. From their vantage point, it was clear that the cameraman was steadily moving backwards. The reporter quickly followed suit.
They were moaning loudly, hungrily, almost to the point that Haven thought they were communicating to each other. Their steps became more urgent and uneven as they neared the pair. Haven could distinctly make out the grotesque faces of the approaching figures flooding the streets. Some were wearing suits, the fine fabric torn and bloody; others were in everything from gas station attendant uniforms or bathrobes to sweatpants and sweatshirts. Some were impossibly old; others were only a few years in age. They all showed signs of encountering horrific violence, and their skin was pale, seemingly devoid of blood flow. Their vacant gaze, slack jaws, endless moaning, shredded flesh, and slow-moving limbs were the only features they held in common. These were her people, her fellow Americans.
Haven shook her head, unable to comprehend what she was saying. It didn’t make sense.
“They’re hunting them,” Rosemary whispered hoarsely.
They were getting closer. It quickly became evident that the reporter and cameraman were headed in a direction that left them limited avenues of escape. They were not moving fast enough to evade their adversaries.
At twenty yards, the reporter began to cough. She continued to step backwards until her heels pressed against the massive wall of the south side of the RBC Tower. She looked around frantically, searching for her cameraman. He was nearby, the camera still trained on her, but through the smoke and ash, only glimpses of her were visible.
It happened so quickly that Haven wasn’t even prepared for it. One second, the reporter had been shrouded in smoke; the next, they were upon her.
Her screams were rapidly drowned out by the chorus of moans as their bodies engulfed her small frame. Those who could not crowd around the feast continued towards the cameraman.
Seconds later, Haven and her grandmother were staring into a sea of dull white eyes that as a unit cast a chilling supernatural glow. Haven watched as the cameraman backed into an open stairwell, the camera wobbling as he climbed the steps. Dozens of battered faces peered ar
ound door frame, staring up at him with unabated hunger and desperation.
“He’s not going to make it!” Haven exclaimed, covering her mouth as she watched them scurry up the stairs to follow him.
In his hurry to get to the door at the top of the stairs, the cameraman lost his footing. She gasped in horror as she watched the camera tumble to the ground. It fell to the floor, its inevitable destruction hampered as it landed on the soft flesh of the creatures that passed it, their bloated bodies cushioning its fall. They poured in like water, climbing over each other to reach him. There were so many that followed that at one point they were jammed into the entrance, unable to move forward.
The microphone on the camera amplified the nauseating slurping and chewing. The camera itself provided a horrifyingly intimate angle of the cameraman’s sneakered feet as they spasmed sporadically while his body was devoured. Immediately, the scene was cut off, and they were suddenly looking at the distraught face of the news anchor at the studio.
Without blinking, Rosemary reached over to the coffee table, grabbed the remote, and shut off the TV.
Intuitively, Haven shifted closer towards her grandmother and reached out to hold her hand.
Rosemary cleared her throat. “I want you to start loading up the canned goods, bedding, batteries, and weapons and move them to the attic. Tomorrow you and I are going to the store. What we just saw won’t stop at Raleigh,” she said in a subdued tone. “It’s coming here.”
***
Haven worked wordlessly with swift precision. In only an hour, she had cleaned and loaded all of the guns from her late grandfather’s weapons collection just as he had taught both her and Brett as teenagers. She sighed wistfully. She missed her grandfather. He had been the closest thing she’d had to a father.
When she was done cleaning the guns, she began packing up various cans of vegetables, beans, and fruits.
Haven didn’t want to think about what she had seen on the television, but the violence kept replaying in her head. She had closed her eyes and whispered a prayer for the victims of the cataclysmic events she’d witnessed today. But she’d prayed even more fervently for Houston.
Houston was stressed to say the least. He didn’t know what was causing everyone to act like raving lunatics, but he wanted to make sure that whatever happened, Haven and her family stayed as far away as possible from it. He spent about a half hour emphasizing society’s capacity for evil during desperate times, that even the best people with the most admirable of intentions could mutate into complete savages when it came down to their survival. He had already seen the failure of the military and law enforcement to contain the catastrophe in Raleigh. The lack of authority in the city had led to riots, looting, and widespread destruction of property. They simply hadn’t been able to keep the chaos at bay. This only meant that the turmoil would spread. And if the powers that be couldn’t stop it from spreading, the country was going to hell in a hand basket.
While she wasn’t completely convinced that the attack she viewed in Raleigh was evidence of the end of the world, she also wasn’t willing to discount the possibility after reading many articles on the internet about similar attacks around the nation. She had even read a few reports about planes crashing in Europe after being overrun by crazed passengers. Haven wasn’t sure if there was a relationship between the attacks in the United States and those abroad, but it certainly wasn’t encouraging.
Given what she saw in Raleigh, she was convinced that the conditions there would spread over the border of its southern neighbor. She pleaded with him not to do anything dangerous and to hunker down somewhere safe. If she didn’t have the obligations of protecting her grandmother, Faith, and Brett, she would have driven to him in a heartbeat. And he knew that waiting out the disaster in his apartment was highly unlikely if he thought Haven was in danger.
She assured him several times that her grandmother had plenty of weapons from her grandfather’s expansive collection, and that she would keep one by her bed.
When she was done talking to Houston, she called Brett, making sure he was alright and that no one was trying to eat him. Brett promised her that he was fine, but the family was concerned that because the university didn’t allow students to keep weapons on the premises, under these circumstances, he was completely defenseless. Haven reminded herself that he had been practicing martial arts since childhood, but deep down, her mind was laden with anxiety. It was agreed upon that Haven would drive the two hours to Brett’s school to pick him up and bring him home. Rosemary wanted to go with her, but Haven insisted that someone needed to guard the house and have everything ready for them when she returned. Faith would stay behind, as well.
Haven pulled out her black leather jacket, a couple of light sweaters, a pair of cargo pants, and two pairs of jeans and folded them neatly into her backpack. She figured that if things got really bad, like hand-to-hand combat bad, the leather jacket would at least provide a small barrier to any hungry zombies hoping to bite her.
She sat down on her bed and reached over to her nightstand where a framed photo of she and Houston holding baby alligators in Miami sat propped against her lamp. They were always up for a good adventure.
They had met during his senior year while living in a co-ed dormitory at American University in D.C. Although they had been together for four years, Haven remembered the first time she met him as though it was yesterday. He was coming out of the boys shower room, a towel wrapped around his waist. Haven, on the other hand, was struggling to keep her important parts covered with a small towel while rummaging through her shower caddy. Not that Houston was complaining. He had liked her instantly and had raised his eyebrow at her as she walked by to the girls’ shower room.
“Can I hold something there for you?” he had asked, one hand clutching his towel.
“Oh… um, thank you, but I’ve got it,” she had responded, not looking up from what she was doing.
This only intrigued him more, but he didn’t want to seem like a creep, so he said good-bye and walked towards his room.
“Actually...” her voice echoed down the hall, “this will sound really weird, and I apologize, but on second thought, you wouldn’t happen to have an extra bar of soap lying around? I just have this tiny piece left.” She’d held up a nearly translucent sliver of soap the size of a penny.
He had turned around and walked back, jubilant at the opportunity to talk to her a little more.
“Well, that won’t do.” He handed her his bottle of shower gel. “You know, neighbors usually borrow sugar,” he joked.
“Hmmm... I bet they do,” she replied, taking it from him quickly. “Thank you.” She opened the door to the shower room. “I’ll make sure to bring it by later with a plate of cookies,” she added dryly, poking her head around the corner.
“Hey, I’m holding you to that! Chocolate chip! They’re my favorite,” Houston had called out after her.
She did come by his room about two hours later to return the shower gel, her damp hair tossed into a messy bun. Sure enough, in her hands was a plate of chocolate chip cookies.
“I got these from the gas station,” she admitted. “So… not home-made, but that’s the best I could find.”
Houston was enamored.
Later that night, they realized they had a class together and agreed to study for an upcoming test the following evening.
They looked forward to those study dates. Without fail, Houston consistently provided thin crust pepperoni pizza and sodas from Dominos. Haven kept coming, claiming it was mostly for the pizza, but in reality, she really enjoyed spending time with him. Although her grandmother had done a remarkable job raising Haven and her siblings, losing her parents at such a young age had been hard on her, and she frequently built walls to prevent herself from getting too attached or hurt. Houston was good at breaking down those walls. He was smart, fun to talk to, had a generous heart, and could make her smile without fail.
And so the two became closer as the months w
ore on. He even started going to church with her. Coming from a staunchly atheist household, Houston had never gone to church a day in his life before, but if going meant spending time with Haven, he was all for it. As time progressed though, he had to admit that he was taking a lot from the sermons and looked forward to them each Sunday. They helped him start the coming week on a more positive, hopeful note.
Towards the end of the semester, she invited him to spend Thanksgiving at her house that year. Her family had been very warm and inviting to him. Rosemary let him carve the Thanksgiving turkey and kissed him on his cheek after he blessed the meal. He’d never met his grandparents so he took an immediate liking to Rosemary and her love of family. He grew protective of Faith and valued her sweet spirit. He and Brett bonded instantly and spent hours watching football and dissecting all the plays. Brett was like the brother he’d never had.
Houston wanted to be a part of this family. He wanted to be a part of the closeness and love and warmth they all shared with one another. He realized that if he never dated another woman in his whole life, he’d be fine with that. He wanted to marry the one he had.
Haven represented home. He would do everything in his power to preserve and protect that.
After graduating, Haven finally told him about her bucket list. Always the explorer, she wanted to backpack across Europe, climb the Great Wall of China, take a boat down the Amazon, swim with great white sharks off the coast of South Africa... And that was just the tip of the iceberg. This was the time in her life to check those things off her list, while she was young enough to enjoy them and didn’t have the commitments of a real-world job and a family. She wanted an adventure that she would remember for the rest of her life. And most importantly, she wanted to share that memory with Houston.
Houston had patted her leg and answered sincerely, “Let’s do it.” Two weeks later, they were on a stand-by flight to Rome. They traveled the world for an entire year, undertaking teaching jobs to pay for their overseas adventures. They stayed in hostels or camped, making friends wherever they went. It was everything she had wanted it to be... it was perfect. She had never met anyone like him. He would go to the ends of the earth for her. With her. Haven couldn’t imagine her life without him.
The Good, the Dead, and the Lawless: The Undoing Page 10