‘I still have all my fucking ‘ings in there. Let me go upstairs and get ‘em.’ A man said, wearing a blue Adidas tracksuit.
‘Sir. We need to keep moving, we gave everyone exactly one hour to collect belongings. We need to keep moving.’ One of the officers said.
‘Fuck y’all with your do this do that. I am going upstairs to get my stuff.’
There was certainly a lot of tension Brian thought. He could see it on people’s faces. One old lady in particular was at the back of the queue - and kept staring left to right and then down. When she did look up she would rub her many wrinkles scattered around her forehead. When the argument broke out between the officer and tracksuit guy – she moved to one side as far as possible.
‘Sir I am not going to tell you again. Get back in the queue and get on the bus.’
‘Maybe you did not hear when I said. Fuck. Y’all.’ Tracksuit said, and raised his middle finger. Then, he turned around and dashed for the apartment buildings.
This was when the officer got out his M-16 gun and shot one round of fire in the air. The claps it made were unbelievable. If people were not already tense and alert – they sure were fucking now.
The intimidation worked. Tracksuit man stopped right in his tracks. For a moment he thought he got shot in the back – and even duck for the concrete floor beneath him. There were several things going through Brian’s mind right now: One was, he almost thought that the Army man was going to shoot the guy, Jeesus, what story that would be: CNN – Officer Peter Shoots Innocent Civilian. But, the thing that struck Brian the most, was the fact that the officer even resorted to shooting his gun up in the air. Was that not a last resort kind a thing? Brian was sure he could have chased him or something, or maybe radio in to his other squad members – that were surely still in the apartment building (murdering couches no doubt).
A lightning thought struck Brian. Why were they so thorough in looking for something when it was a supposed gas leak going on? The thought freaked Brian out, because it sure was a valid point.
Brian kept on walking down the road. He was born and raised in the Bronx; he knew the place in and out. When he lost his job a year ago he had no luck in finding anything else, he was now supported by the state and his mum. He did not really speak much to her, they never really got a long; she was never home when he was small. His father Rodger was what he remembered most. That man was a hardworking and very caring person. He would finish working his 9-5 at the local pharmacy and then rush home to change his clothes to go work another 4 hours at a factory, where he had to lift boxes for shipping. But what his father did most well – was to look after Brian. He had to, because his wife (Brian’s mother), was never there. She had her own problems; she was a severe alcoholic and did the occasional sniff of Cocaine. Sadly, his father died of an accident at work; he was lifting boxes for a new shipment, and then a newbie that started that day, forgot to put a machine on hold. As his father walked down the aisle – boxes weighing up to nine ton, fell on him, he was dead in an instant. Brian was thirteen, his mother moved back in.
Brian has been walking around for a few hours. It has been nice to get some fresh air. He sure needed it. He was now walking around a corner when he was suddenly faced with a building straight ahead. It was the Seven-Eleven Mason went into.
Brian had to open and close his eyes a few times. Was this for real he thought? Was this some kind of subconscious way for him to make peace? The idea that he was walking straight to the shop never crossed his mind. Brian was now standing a few yards away from it. His mind did not want to see it. But deep down in his heart he knew he walked here for a purpose.
While Brian gazed upon the building, someone came walking from behind. It was a young kid, probably around eleven, with his mother. She was extremely attractive Brian thought, but also very nervous.
‘Excuse me Mr, you got a minute.’ She asked him, while holding her kid’s hand firm.
‘Yeah, how can I help?’
‘You…you don’t suppose you know what is going on around here?’
‘The last thing I heard, was that it was some kind of gas leak around Upper Manhattan.’
She looked at him in a weird way; almost analysing his behaviour, as if to see if he was weird or not. Brian was sure of this. But you can’t blame her, when shit like this is going on; a mother would always be very alert, especially if she had a child.
‘You don’t really, believe that do you?’ she asked.
‘I don’t really know what to believe, I was born and raised here – and I will tell you one thing, I sure as hell have not seen shit like this.’
The little kid raised his hands to his ears, as if to block the swear word. Brian actually found this rather funny.
‘I…I just think we need to get out of here. I don’t feel safe anymore.’ She said.
‘Yeah I don’t blame you really. With all the army– well you know. Where you guys from anyway?’
‘Alabama, Troy – a small little place, but fine for a small family. Me, little Matt and my husband came here a few days ago. We thought it would be nice to see the big city you know? Matt always wanted to see The Big Apple – didn’t you honey?’
Her little kid gave a left to right smirk.
‘Now, I am waiting for my husband.’ Her voice dropped dramatically, she looked down. ‘I…I can’t get hold of him, his phone keeps going onto voicemail. I told him not to go into Manhattan but he did not listen. He said he had to go do some work around Upper Manhattan. He is a business man you see; he works one on one with restaurants. It pays the bills.’ She said trying to make a little joke, probably just trying to make herself feel a little better, but it was no use – her eyes kept drooping down in fear. ‘Now he won’t answer. Not at…all. He said he was going near the Riverside Park. That…that is in Upper Manhattan right? I did a Google search and it is! That is where they said to avoid. What…what if–’ She looked down at her kid, realising that she was getting carried away.
‘I am sure everything will be just fine. Maybe his phone battery died? If worse came to be I am confident he got evacuated just like the others.’
‘Yes, I am, sure you are correct. Well, I gotta go now. Thank you for your time.’
The woman walked off with her kid. As she walked she had the same jittery right-to-left look as the previous old lady. Things were really tensing up.
(7)
Brian was now walking down the aisle – in which his best friend must have walked in. He could feel goose bumps start to crawl over his skin – as he neared the aisle which had the milk and bread.
He was staring at the loaf of bread: Special Deal $1.45 Brown Bread With Seeds, the tag said. Brian did not know what to do, was this some kind of subconscious therapy? Was this the process that would get him out of the denial stage? Whatever it was – Brian could feel a warm tear sliding down his cheek. He closed his eyes – and started a little prayer.
Dear God, I feel so bad for my friend’s death. I almost feel like that I am the one responsible. Maybe I should not have let him go that night, his soul was hurt, I saw it in his eyes. I feel lost right now, I don’t know what to do. He was my best friend, I have known him since primary. I remember the days when we use to ride bike together, and he use to shout: Hey Brian! I bet you can’t do this! or Hey Brian. Catch me if you can.
[Silence]
God. I ask for forgiveness if I played any role his death. One side of me tells me it’s absurd that I blame myself – but another side tells me if I did not let him go home that night – he would still be alive. If he is in heaven right now tell him to wait for me. Amen.
Brian opened his eyes and in his peripheral saw someone staring. It was the cashier. When Brian made eye contact he saw how nervous he was – how terrified actually.
Brian went over with the loaf of bread in one hand and milk in the other. The new cashier was not a kid anymore; it was a slim Indian man. He had a thick unibrow and small eyes. His hair was an apocalyptic disaster; b
ald on some spots with single strand of hair poking out at random places.
‘Welkem to Seven-Leven.’ He said.
Brian just gave a nod. As the till beeped Brian saw something. He was sure of it. The glass window just next to him was matted with a very light color of maroon. He was sure that it was…it was that kid’s blood, still stained like shit on shoe. He looked away, probably too quick, he could not help it, he felt…he felt sick.
‘Are woo ok?’ The Indian man asked. Brian could see fear build up in his eyes. He did not blame him though, as far as the man knew, Brian could be another throat slitter. Brian threw change on the counter and took his shopping – ran out in fact.
He was just in time; he could feel last night’s fish and chips slide up his throat – mixed with some acid. And then, the brick wall colored with green and brown.
(8)
Tuesday, September 23, 2014
Brian was in a deep sleep. He was not having a nightmare of a man laughing at him in Central Park this time – but a much nicer dream. He was dreaming of having a home of his own. He did not know where it was for sure, but he did like where it was. The field ahead was a golden wave in color. The sky above a blue crayon. A flock of birds flew over the house of his dreams – the house itself glowing a faint amber yellow as the sun laid its eyes on it. Brian was now walking towards it; hovering his hands over the wheat as he neared.
He was just about to open the door of his dream house – when something began to beep. At first it was a low hum, then, it got louder and louder – to the point where Brian held his hands over his ears.
Brian woke up. It was night. A loud intercom of some sort was ringing outside.
Jeesus, what the hell. Brian thought with eyes half-closed. He got up and walked over to the window. He peeked through the curtains and saw nothing, and then he opened the window.
As if on cue – gun shots were fired. Not one, not two, but a lot of rapid fire. The intercom was a lot louder as well. It then started speaking: People of New York. Please listen well. I repeat, this is not a drill.
Brian hurried over to his bed side table and got his phone, it was three am.
Intercom: People of New York. The city is under attack. We are evacuating everyone. Infected areas include Upper Manhattan, the Bronx, Mt Vernon, Eastchester and parts of New Rochelle. I repeat. These places are infected. We urge people to proceed to Lower Manhattan where we are setting up a safety zone. We are also evacuating people by boat from Battery Park. I repeat. Do not head up through Bronx. We urge people to head down to Lower Manhattan as soon as possible.
Brian shook his head in disbelief. What the hell do they mean by infected? And why are they saying under attack? Brian thought. The intercom kept playing the same message over, over and over. For the next few minutes Brian kept staring outside. Looking for anything that would answer his questions. And then, sure enough, he saw something in the far distance.
It was someone running, WAIT, not someone - but a group of people. They were running away from something. More gun shots from somewhere. More loud intercom noise. Then…
The group of people neared Brian’s apartment. (He lived high up so he had a birds view). They were about to run past when they stopped. Out of breath.
‘Are they gone?’ One of them said.
‘I don’t know, wait, where is Jaclyn!’
‘I don’t know I thought she was–’
Brian watched as these two tried gasping for air under the white street light.
More gun shots came from somewhere. It was nearing.
‘Wait, behind you!’ The old man screamed.
Then, out of nowhere a group of five people came storming through a brush. The two out of breath had no chance – they did not even see them nearing from the side. It was horrible to watch…horrific. They jumped on them like a pack of hyenas and pinned them down. There was absolutely no remorse. The first thing they did after pinning them on the floor was sink their teeth into their neck. Brian could not see blood – yet, but he heard the scream of agony. First it was: No-no-no-please-God-no. Then words left and gargling followed. The old man was gone quick. But the younger man…he…he tried fighting back. It was no use, he was now crawling on his stomach and did not get far either, they bit a large chunk of flesh from his leg and that seemed to shut him up for good – he had no more energy for screaming.
Brian did not know why, but he had to keep on watching, he was witnessing something he knew he had to see. Probably for his own safety. After a few minutes the group of five jumped up from the floor and ran the down the road. Brian could see a dark paint on their faces as they ran under the white light.
Brian…was without words.
After the coast was clear Brian shut his window. Almost breaking it. He ran to the living room to turn on the TV.
A young reporter was on CNN. Her face a pale shade of white. ‘We are getting in reports of mass brutality around New York city. We do not know the cause of it yet – but people are reporting cannibalism.’
Someone brought her a piece of paper live on air. She stared it at for a moment.
‘We just got the latest news on the outbreak. There is still no cause just of yet, but, I can confirm that the zones to avoid are: New Rochelle, Mt Vernon, Yonkers, Bronx and Upper Manhattan. They do say in here that if you are situated in the Bronx area that you should immediately head down to Lower Manhattan, by any means necessary. They also say: Do not speak to anyone, do not take anything from people and do not take a car, go on foot. It is also highly recommended that if you live more up from the Bronx that you should stay indoors and do not go out.’
A loud explosion erupted outside. Gun shots echoed. Brian got up from the chair and ran to the window. He peeked outside this time. In the far distance he saw a plume of orange and yellow rise up into the air. Then more gun shots. Brian ran back to his bed side table and picked up his phone. No signal.
Ok calm down. Calm down Brian. Get yourself together. This is probably just a bad nightmare. Brian thought and slapped himself quite hard around the face.
He was now starting to realise that this was no dream. This was no Bruce Willis Die Hard movie. This was the real deal. He climbed under his covers and closed his eyes, shutting them tight. Brian thought of many things: he thought of that attractive woman with her boy - worried about her husband and phone going to voicemail, he thought of that black man on CNN saying; I ain’ going nowhere. I live just across the street, I got two kids, I got mouths to feed and I will tell you again. I. ain’. Goin’. Nowhere.
Poor guy Brian thought, I bet he fucking wished he was gone now.
There were a lot more gun shots and a lot more screaming outside, especially around five am. But Brian chose to stay under the covers.
Later on, he did not know what time it was, nor did he care, he was not going to climb out of the covers…but…he was getting sleepy again, and just before nodding off, one of his finals thoughts were about Mason – and that maybe, just maybe, it was a good thing that Mason left…before all of this.
(9)
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Brian woke up to rain falling on the window. As he woke up he jumped from bed to look at his phone. It was twelve in the afternoon. He must have slept through a lot he thought. He slowly got up and walked over to the window - now washing down with water. He looked outside and saw nothing. No one. Not a sound.
He then power walked to the TV, and turned it on to find it not working, just a bunch of static grey lines.
Fucking hell, why is it not working? Brian thought. And then tried changing to all twelve channels – where there was no signal as well. Brian left the TV on for now, with the sound low, so that if it came back on at least he knew. He walked over to the kitchen to make himself breakfast, and while doing so he made a mental note of his food supply. He did not have much left; in fact, the only food left was some oatmeal, bread and milk he bought from Seven-Eleven the other day.
Well this is not looking good
. What am I going to do when I run out of food.
Brian did not give much thought of running down to Lower Manhattan just yet. And for a pretty damn good reason, he still remembers vividly what he saw yesterday just outside his apartment.
With that thought in mind, he did not even look if those two were still lying on the road. He tip toed towards the window to look down. And sure enough, they were still there, very dead. But, it almost looks like they were dragged a bit more up the road. And not only that, the gloomy rain light made things visible. Things Brian whished were not visible. The bodies were not only mutilated, but it did not even look like bodies anymore. It actually looked like two dead animals with fur and bone.
Brian went back to the kitchen where he ate his food in silence. The next best thing to do was to wait for the TV to come back on. At least he could get an update of the current circumstances. His best chance was to hide up here, Brian thought, and not be someone’s lunch outside.
It’s been a few hours. Brian heard the occasional gun shot in the distance but that was about it. The streets…seemed deserted. He was now sitting on the couch reading: A Survival Guide For Life. By Bear Grylls.
Mason gave it to him as a birthday present last year. Brian remembers saying: Just what I need to live in New York. They both laughed. Brian never even opened it up; it lay on a pile of other stuff in the corner of his room. But he sure as hell welcomed any fucking information on survival right now.
Brian was half way through the book when the TV came back on. It was the same reporter as last time, but she was a lot paler than before. She kept on saying that people should get out of the upper areas and down to Lower Manhattan. She also mentioned a lot of horrible stories; one was about an elderly man that had his face eaten out like it was a soup bowl. She also mentioned something about a mother and her kid. Brian really hopes it was not the one he spoke to.
The Need For Flesh (Apocalyptic Cannibalism Book 1) Page 2