I walked past the nurse’s uniform on my way to turn off the water. She’d taken the shoes…and my phone.
CHAPTER 4
I turned the water off and went to the supply closet for a mop. I would have to leave the building soon. With the electricity off, the museum would get cold. Plus, I didn’t have enough food in there to wait until things died down outside. I knew I had a couple of cans of soup and a partial box of crackers in the bottom drawer in my desk in case I ever forgot my lunch. Then there was today’s lunch, a salami sandwich, in the mini-fridge. There were a couple of bags of microwave popcorn, not that they’d do me any good now. I could hide in the museum for a few days, ration my food, and try to ignore the temperatures, but I didn’t want to.
I mopped up the water as much as I could. I didn’t have a place to put the wet mop, because she’d filled my bucket. There were also three small, plastic trash bins full of water, and of course, the sink. I propped the mop against the wall. I had to remind myself it didn’t matter if I made a mess, because life as I knew it was over. The weight of that thought made my knees weak. I suddenly felt so alone. I wished someone were with me so I wouldn’t have to go through this by myself, even if it was the rude woman with the dust mask.
I needed to sit, so I went back to my office, pulling my chair in with me. I sat at my desk and stared at the black, blank computer monitor. With the power off, it was amazingly quiet in the building. I could hear myself breathing. I tried to calm myself. I needed to think.
I had to get to Blaine’s. First, I would need to go home and get a few things….
Just then, I was startled out of my thoughts by a scream outside. I stood and looked out the office window. Off to the left, on the other side of North Street, I could see a man and a woman on the sidewalk clawing and slapping each other. I could tell by their movements they were both infected. I pulled the blinds closed on the window. I didn’t want to see any of it anymore.
It was after 1:00 p.m. and the sun would set in less than four hours. If I was going to go home and get to Blaine’s before dark, I needed to go right then or wait it out in the museum until the next day. Blaine’s place was less than a ten minute drive outside of town, but I didn’t know what sort of problems I would face between here and there, or what problems I might encounter once I got there.
The more I thought about it, it became clear that I just needed to go straight to Blaine’s house and see what kind of plan he had, then maybe he and I could venture back into town later for the things I might need.
I put my coat on, and then I went to the mini-fridge to get what was in there. I pulled out my salami sandwich and two small bottles of water. All that was left was three fast food ketchup packets. I brought the stuff back to my office and then put the sandwich and water along with the soup and crackers in plastic garbage bag she’d left in the floor. She’d left the first aid kit sitting on the floor just outside the door. I grabbed it, too. I tied the rag over my face, picked up the bag of supplies and her tobacco stick, and I went to the front door.
To the south, I could see a man over at the transmission shop, but he was far enough away not to be a problem. To the north, I could see a group of people gathered around the overturned delivery van by the newspaper office. They, too, were far enough away so long as I got to my car quickly and got out of the lot before they blocked my path.
It looked like a good time to go. As quietly as I could, I exited the building. Out of habit, I started to lock the door behind me, but stopped myself. I might need a place to which I could retreat.
I made it to my car okay. I didn’t attract any attention. I knew that once I started the vehicle, they’d come. I unlocked the door, put my food in the back floorboard behind my seat, the tobacco stake in the passenger seat, and climbed in. The seat was cold, and I could see my breath. I pulled the door shut gently. My hands were shaking as I slid the key into the ignition.
“God help me,” I whispered.
I cranked the car, and immediately the group at the newspaper office turned to see. There must have been twenty of them. They came at me fast. I put the car in drive and jumped over the curb onto North Street. I turned right and headed east toward the fire station. I could see them in my rearview mirror chasing me. Then the couple I’d seen fighting earlier, jumped in front of my vehicle. I tried to swerve, but I hit the woman. She flipped up onto the hood, against the windshield, and rolled out into the street. I didn’t slow at all. The crowd shrank in my mirror as I sped down North Street.
I kept looking in my mirror at the woman’s body in the road. I’d already hurt two people today–first, the woman I’d beat with the broom handle and now this one. I know the masked woman said they weren’t people anymore, but I still didn’t believe that. The night before when they went to bed they’d been human beings with families. What if their families were looking for them or worried about them? What about their kids? It brought tears to my eyes.
When I got to North 5th I took a right so I could connect with Broadway. I immediately wished I hadn’t.
The intersection of Broadway and North 5th by Clayfield Water and Electric was blocked by a head-on collision. It was bad. The driver of the car on the right was halfway out the windshield. The front end of the other car was folded up so that the hood was pushed into the interior of the car.
There was a crowd of infected around the wreck. There were people crawling on the vehicles. They were all in various states of dress. I couldn’t understand how some of them could stand to be in the cold without their coats…or pants. They all turned toward me. I stopped the car. I knew I had to get out of there quickly. I put the car in reverse, and threw my arm up on the back of the seat to head back the way I came, but there was a little boy behind the car. He couldn’t have been more than six years old. He was infected like the others. He had a vacant look on his face. He just stood there. I faced front again, and the crowd was approaching. I turned back, and the little guy was still there.
“Move dammit!” I yelled. I was crying. I was scared. “Move!”
I laid on the horn. The boy jumped a little, but didn’t move from his spot. Then the crowd started hitting and rocking my vehicle. They didn’t like the horn. They were in a crescent around the front end. Some of them were actually snarling. I looked in the mirror; the boy bared his teeth.
Rabid dog, or no, I wasn’t going to run over a kid. I put the car in drive and stomped the accelerator. I didn’t punch through the way I’d hoped. I wasn’t going fast enough. An elderly man, directly in front, went down and under the car. I groaned inside about that, but I couldn’t think about that right then. Suddenly, the car just wouldn’t go. I kept the gas pedal on the floor. I could hear the rear tires squealing. The people were crawling on the vehicle–fists and faces pressing against the glass.
I looked into the mirror again, and the little boy was on the trunk. I didn’t hesitate. I took my foot off the gas, and put it in reverse, then foot back on the gas. The vehicle jumped backward, but I was crazy with fear and lost control. The car hooked around to the left and T-boned another car parked on the street. The boy flew off the back and bounced off the other car. The crowd was coming. I crawled across and out the passenger side of the car, grabbing my stick on the way out.
I just ran. I had no plan at that point; I just needed to get away. They chased me, but the disease had messed with their coordination enough that they weren’t fast enough to catch me.
I ran two blocks north to Ann Street before I looked to see how close they were. I had outdistanced them by a full block. This made me feel better about my chances. My lungs were burning from the cold air. There was no way I’d make it to Blaine’s on foot by nightfall. I could either go home or head back to the museum. I allowed myself a slower pace and jogged west down Ann Street, trying to get a clear thought in my head.
My house was on 17th Street and that was long way on foot. I jogged two more blocks until I reached North 7th. There was no traffic on the roads then, ju
st wrecked or abandoned cars.
I stopped at the corner of Ann and North 7th to catch my breath. My pursuers weren’t even in view anymore. I wondered if they weren’t smart enough to follow me that distance, or if once I was out-of-sight they’d forgotten about me, or if they’d found other prey.
I’d left my keys in the car, along with my food and water. I needed to get home. I went up to a couple of empty cars, hoping I could find one with keys, just to get me home, but no luck.
I looked south down North 7th, and I could see the Old Hill Hotel in the distance, and next to it, Kentucky Regional Bank. That would put me next to the museum. The Old Hill had been a hotel in the early 20th century, but now it was used as office space.
I could see the stoplights for the next two intersections were black, but I did see one working a block past the courthouse. The power wasn’t out everywhere.
Looking toward Kentucky Regional Bank, I remembered what the woman said about closing her account and how she didn’t get her money. I also remembered that she didn’t have her purse with her. I presumed it must still be in the bank. Even though I never asked her, I was hoping that the car she was searching earlier belonged to her. I decided to venture into the bank and retrieve her purse, and hopefully, her keys.
I jogged south to North Street and stopped. I made sure I wasn’t followed, and that there wasn’t anything waiting for me ahead. The crowd that had chased me after I left the museum was gone, but the woman I’d hit with my car was still there. I felt sick about that. Part of me wanted to go check on her, but I knew I couldn’t help her.
I proceeded to the bank. As I got closer, I got a better view of Broadway. There was a small group on the courthouse lawn, but they didn’t notice me. Once I got to the bank building, I hugged the wall until I got to the tinted glass door.
It was dark inside, darker than I expected it to be…and quiet. I stood still for a moment, allowing my eyes to adjust. There were glass-walled offices to my left. To the right was the area for tellers. Papers littered the floor. The place appeared to be vacant. I looked in each teller stall for the purse, but it wasn’t there. In one stall, I did find two stacks of twenties bound with paper wrappers. A little voice told me that I would need the money and that no one would ever know, but I left it.
I was just about to leave, when I spied a purse. It was in one of the offices, on the floor next to a chair. Could be it.
I stepped inside and picked it up, then came out next to the front door. I opened the purse to examine the contents to the dim light coming through the front of the bank.
There were keys, a wallet, two tampons, a partial pack of gum, an ink pen, and some loose cough drops. I opened the wallet. It wasn’t the woman with the mask. It was the woman I’d beaten with the broom handle. I felt a twinge of guilt, then sadness as I looked at the face in the driver’s license photo. She was smiling. Her name was Rhonda Leslie Stern. She lived out in the county on Foster Road. She was 5′ 6″ tall and 135 lbs. She was two years younger than me. I didn’t recognize her, but we might have gone to high school together. I might have seen her around town. She might have visited the museum. She was still alive–she wasn’t on the ground behind the museum anymore–but her life was over.
I took her keys and left everything else.
Once outside again, I had to figure out which car was hers. I could hit the unlock button on the key chain, but that might alert the small group of infected at the courthouse. The key was large with a Chevrolet symbol on the back. I remembered a black Chevy Blazer parked around the rear lot. I crept around the corner of the building and bumped into a man.
I stepped back away from him. I knew he was infected. Even though it was ten degrees below freezing, he was in short sleeves. He growled and stepped toward me. I raised my stick.
When he attacked it took me by surprise even though it shouldn’t have. He grabbed my stick and we twirled around and slammed against the back wall of the bank. I stumbled and went down backwards. He fell with me, snarling in my face.
CHAPTER 5
His face was inches from mine. I’d managed to push the tobacco stick against his throat crosswise, and that was the only thing preventing him from biting me. He wanted to. Saliva hung off his bottom lip in a long syrupy strand. I couldn’t allow it to get in my eyes. There was an unnatural heat coming from his body. I couldn’t imagine a person surviving a fever that high.
I don’t know how much he weighed, but my adrenaline was pumping, and I was able to shove him away from me long enough scoot backwards and get out from under him. By the time I got to my feet, he was in a crouch ready to lunge at me again. I swung the stick like a bat and connected with his shoulder. He made a noise that was something like a cross between a scream and a moan and charged me. I was ready this time. I turned the stick again and leaned in.
The stick caught him across the chest. He grabbed it, but I was able to turn him and press him back against the wall. I got the stick against his throat again and put my weight against it. He didn’t have the leverage to push me away. Slobbering and eyes bulging, he slapped me and tugged at my coat. I just kept leaning in. I didn’t even feel like it was me doing it.
I noticed a couple of men approaching from the direction of the museum. They were walking and didn’t seem interested in me just yet. I had to go, but this guy was still fighting me, and…where were the keys? I’d dropped them during the scuffle. Keeping my weight against the stick, I looked around. They were on the ground by the corner of the building.
I looked the other direction toward the approaching newcomers. They’d seen me. I pulled the man away from the wall a little, and then slammed him back, his head smacking the bricks. While he was dazed, I grabbed the keys. I hit the unlock button on the key chain. The lights flashed on the Blazer and there was a little toot! from the horn.
The newcomers were very interested by that time. The other man had slid down the wall. I could see blood at the corner of his mouth, and he was making a loud rasping sound. I got to the truck in plenty of time. The interior of the vehicle smelled like the coconut air freshener hanging from the mirror. I noticed a toddler’s car seat in the back. I tried to ignore it. The truck started without a problem, and I pulled away going west past the museum, on my way home. The men didn’t chase me. The last thing I saw in the mirror was them standing over the man by the bank. I didn’t want to think about what they might be about to do.
I didn’t see many people on my way home. I stuck with the side streets, which took me a little longer to get there. The only direct way for me to get over to 17th Street was to use Broadway, and I knew better than to do that–there was too much activity over there. I had to go north on 9th, and then cut across Gardner to 12th, then 12th to Depot Street, and that would take me to 17th. Twice, I had to go around abandoned vehicles, but otherwise, the streets were empty.
As I crossed over 14th Street I could see thick, black smoke billowing from the northwest. There would be no one to put it out. I prayed it wouldn’t spread.
When I pulled into the driveway of my little house, the clock on the Blazer’s radio said 3:09 p.m. I have a small, one-car garage, but the automatic opener was still clipped to the visor of my car; besides, the power was probably out anyway. I almost parked the truck in the driveway but changed my mind. I would be leaving within the next couple of days, and I would need to load it with supplies. I looked around to make sure no one was close by, and then I jumped out and opened the door manually.
Once inside, with the door shut, I felt this incredible emotional release. I broke down. I just plopped down on the cold concrete floor by the closed door next to oil stains and spider webs and cried like a baby. Once I was able to compose myself, I continued to sit there listening to the Blazer’s cooling engine pop, smelling the stale fumes of gasoline.
I hadn’t noticed it right away, but the light on the garage door opener motor was on. This side of town, or at least my house, still had power.
I walked between the
car and a narrow, metal shelving unit to the interior door. It was locked, but I kept a spare under the mat. The house was warm; it felt good. The first thing I did was to try to call my mom again. There was still no answer. I told myself she was shopping.
Then, I stripped down and took a hot shower. It might seem frivolous to do something like that, but I needed it. It comforted me. It was the last hot shower I would have for a long time.
I turned the water off when the ends of my fingers started to wrinkle. It was much longer than my normal showers. I stood there a moment watching the steam swirl and listening to the dripping water. There was a clean, clear drop hanging from the shower nozzle. It grew then fell and another replaced it.
I could hear the voice of the woman in the mask in my head, “Start with water….”
I didn’t know how to purify water. I knew I could add bleach to it, but I didn’t know how much. I knew I could filter it, but I didn’t know if that was enough.
I stepped out of the shower and dried myself off quickly. I had a lot of work to do, and I’d already wasted too much time. I grabbed a pair of pants from the pile of dirty clothes in my bedroom floor, put them on, and then went into the living room. It was dusk. I was afraid light would attract the infected, so I didn’t turn any on. I shut all the blinds and curtains, and I made sure all of the doors were locked.
Okay. Think. What are my priorities?
Water, food, and shelter. She’d said to fill every container with water. So I did. I plugged the tub and filled it. I filled every bucket and plastic trashcan, but I couldn’t imagine drinking from any of those things. I also filled the empty juice and water bottles in my recycling bin.
With that done, I turned on the TV and put it on CNN. I just wanted to listen while I worked on other things. They were reporting that the disease had been contained, and that it hadn’t spread any farther north than Pennsylvania in the east, and Kentucky in the west, but I wasn’t sure I believed that.
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