Dahmer Flu

by Christopher Cox

  The troop transport was the first to succumb to the horde, the undead pressing over each other to go into the back. Bullets fired wildly into the crowd, forcing some back, but there were too many; the guns soon fell silent. The lead humvee was the next to abandon hope; its interior was lit by two gunshots before falling silent. Movement in another caught my attention, and I focused the binos on it. The gunner’s hatch flew open and two men scrambled to the roof; I guessed that they were able to see the rest of the horde coming behind them, and seized on the slim ray of hope before the crowd overcame them, too. Firing into the mob with their pistols, they ran like madmen, dodging through the thick group. One was quickly overcome, pulled down and into the mass that enveloped him like starving dogs thrown a scrap. The other struggled through the grasping hands and tangled limbs, firing at those who came too close or stood in his way. He wouldn’t last long, either, I was sure.

  Our own slim ray of hope was dwindling, as well. With the crowd distracted, there was the small chance that we could make it through the opposite direction by keeping to the highest edge of Ashland’s hills and continuing on the road out of town- hopefully well behind the group that came that way earlier.

  “This way!” I called, grabbing Madi and running carelessly along the uneven ground. I could hear Lisa and Robert behind me, each of us running quickly on adrenaline-powered legs. We hit the road at the far end with little trouble, most of the ‘stalkers either finishing the meal or trying to find it, and saw the scene that embodied the panic that gripped this town. The road was clogged with vehicles in various stages of u-turn, many of them forced unnaturally together. Most of them, as I checked, were missing their keys or were trapped and impossible to move.

  “Who takes their damn keys with them, time like this?” I wondered out loud.

  “Dunno…” Lisa’s voice trailed off behind mine.

  An expensive-looking red sedan sat apart, well off the road and on the shoulder; the windshield was shattered and old, dark bloodstains discolored the driver’s seat and traced the path to the a few meters from the car where it ended in a wide irregular stain.

  The keys were still inside. I sat in the stained seat and with appropriately low expectations, turned the key. The engine complained, and then died. I tried again, relieved when it sputtered to life and maintained a rough, uneven idle- at least it was running; perhaps our luck was finally changing. I opened the trunk and threw the bags inside, then returned to the seat.

  I realized very quickly that my luck was the same as it had always been. Before I could put the car into gear I felt cold metal against my skull, just above my left ear. “Get out of the car!” The voice was unsteady and angry; I didn’t dare look, but heard Lisa and Madi catch their screams in their throats. “I’m not sayin’ it again- get the fuck out of the car; I will kill every last one of you, if you make me. Your choice, you wanna be a hero, I start with the kids.” I felt the barrel press harder into my skull.

  Lisa spoke with fear and anger in her voice. “Go on kids, this side.” I stared straight ahead as I heard the passenger side doors open and heard Robert climb to the other side.

  “Okay, we’re leaving,” I said, keeping my hands in view. “No one’s gonna do anything stupid; just take the car and go.” I moved slowly, inching the door open, and left the vehicle; the man stepped back to allow the door to swing on its rusted hinges and to better cover Lisa and the children. I joined the trio where they stood, getting a solid look at our attacker from the wrong end of his pistol. He was tall and thin, exhibiting the same haunted, hungry look that humanity had adopted over the last year or so; he wore the uniform of a soldier and was cleanly shaven. He was pale and sweating, and blood flowed freely down his free arm to pool at his feet.

  “You’re bit,” Lisa said, gesturing towards the tear in his uniform above the bicep and the fresh wound underneath. A chunk of meat was missing from his arm, exposing the muscle and bone underneath; it had already begun forming a pea-green crust around the edges.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  He started to get in the car, but paused when Lisa spoke. “I’m a doctor; I can help you,” she said.

  He stopped and stood upright. “You think I’m stupid, bitch?” Madi and Lisa both bristled at the word. “I know what a bite means, I’m s’good as dead and I know that. But I ain’t just waiting here for that to happen.”

  He started again to enter the car, but Lisa called, “There’s a treatment- it works if we’re fast.”

  “There’s no cure,” he said; he halted, unsure.

  “Yes, there is,” She argued.

  The man stopped and looked around before taking a few steps towards us. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s a high dose of Niacin, then elevating your body temperature- if you do it soon enough after the infection, it forces the toxins out of the pores- it works about twenty percent of the time, but it’s a lot better than nothing. I really can’t believe you guys didn’t know that… what were you doing when someone got hurt?”

  “Our medic died early on,” he answered as an explanation.

  “Oh, Lord, what a waste,” she exclaimed. The children and I watched the exchange, not sure what to think of it. My concern was that there was a large horde of the undead nearby that would find us sooner or later, and this man with a gun stood between us and our way out. She gave him her sternest look; “Are we going or not? Your choice, you got the gun.”

  A few animals ran panicked through the wood-lined side of the road, away from the town. The man thought for a moment. “Why don’t I just take you and leave them?”

  “You think I’d go anywhere without my children?” She said. “You can’t have me without them, and without me… what are your odds then?”

  “Okay, fine, I don’t have time to argue. Get in.” He pointed to me, “you’re driving, and I want to see your hands at all times. Got it?”

  “You’re the boss,” I said as we all started to enter the vehicle.

  “No.” He stopped Lisa, who was getting into the back seat with the children. “You sit up front; I’ll sit with the kids. I don’t want you to try nothin’ either.”

  The car was still running roughly as we eased through the tangled metal mass and onto the long, lonely road, weaving through the rare dead or damaged vehicles that had made it this far in one direction or the other. The drive was silent, except the road noise and unhealthy wail of the aged engine. Shortly outside of town was another sign, much like the one that greeted us on the way in. Once again, it displayed only a single handwritten word: ‘North’. We drove on, trusting the road to take us somewhere safer.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. Lisa and I looked back at him, surprised. He continued; “My name’s Travis; I have a family, too- a wife and a little boy. I just wanted to see them before I die.” His eyes started to tear, which mixed with the sweat that flowed freely from his hairline; he was looking worse already.

  “Where are they?”

  “Just south of Annandale.” I had no idea where that was, but he said it like I did and I didn’t want to interrupt to ask. “I think we’re the last of the Army, I don’t know. There’s nothing on the SINCGARS since a while, and we lost comms on the CB, too. We were sent off to try and relieve a unit hold up in Midway-”

  Robert chimed in, “My grandma lives up in Midway!”

  “I don’t think anyone’s living there anymore, kid,” he said. Robert didn’t react, but I was sure he felt the sting. “We were trying to bring back any survivors to plus up our garrison; it was a desperate move, but we were desperate already anyways. They had the men and supplies that we were running out of, so we couldn’t afford to let ‘em get overrun by the Ucks.”

  “Ucks?” I asked.

  “Yeah, Ucks- U.C’s, Undead Combatants.” His words were starting to slur. “We saw the group, but it was just as bad for a ways either direction, too, and the terrain was the best in the valley. So we figgered this would be a good place to punch throug
h- guess we were wrong, huh? Turn here”

  I hadn’t noticed the turnoff coming up, but he knew the area better than I had. I turned to the side road just after the sign that advertised the existence and services of ‘West Lake’; I doubted that the gas stations, lodging and restaurants would be very hospitable, but that wasn’t really what we were here for. We slipped into the suburban streets like a scavenger into a predator’s den, stalking slowly forward with purposeful caution.

  The city of West Lake seemed to be untouched, although hastily abandoned- most likely about the time that Ashland fell the first time. The homes were un-boarded and undisturbed, but children’s toys and bicycles lay deserted in overgrown lawns and unkempt streets. A mangy tan dog investigated a pile of rubbish and, finding it inedible, moved on to another; seeing an animal gave me a small amount of comfort.

  Cursing the noise of the unhealthy engine, we crossed the downtown streets until we found what we had come for. The West Lake Community Clinic was a needlessly ornate building set at the end of a narrow parking lot; curiously, the lot was nearly full, although the vehicles had obviously been there for a long time. I circled through the back lot, preferring to be in the vehicle if surprised by the stalkers, where an ambulance sat awkwardly alone, with the rear doors left open revealing a disordered interior that spilled onto a bloody, but otherwise empty, gurney.

  I parked behind the ambulance; it gave us more than one way out and afforded some degree of concealment from the street if anyone was watching.

  I looked back at Travis. “Okay, let’s do this and get the hell out of here.”

  He looked back at me with lethargic eyes and spoke as if with great effort. “Yeah, we just gotta-” He stopped in mid-sentence and his eyes grew wide; the color seemed to drain from his face as he launched himself from the car and next to the ambulance where he doubled over and vomited enthusiastically. Seeing the opportunity I slipped the car into reverse and gunned the engine, ready to launch backwards and away from the injured man.

  The vehicle roared, but our escape could have only been measured in inches- the engine coughed, then died, leaving us still. Travis bolted to his full height and ran to the driver’s side door, wiping the bile from his chin and leveling the gun at the window. “Get out,” he said, with a simple anger.

  We complied, each of us, silently exiting and meeting on the narrow sidewalk attached with the rear of the building. With forethought, I returned to the car for my much-beloved crowbar; Travis didn’t object, even though I was somewhat armed- perhaps because it wasn’t nearly as well as he was. He was on guard now, and invited us forward with a subtle wave of his pistol. The look in his eyes was clear- move or die. As a group, we rounded the corner of the building towards the front. Finding the front door to be unlocked, we went inside- first me, then the children, then Lisa followed by a still-enraged Travis.

  The lobby was as it had been left, with the organized simplicity that the medical profession had perfected and natural light filtering through the large tinted windows. The printed posters and fact sheets that were taped to the walls reflected the fear and confusion that was rampant in those final days, and our inability to comprehend what we were facing. As human beings, we were used to surviving and overcoming- it had been hard for us to accept that this time would be very different.

  ‘GL25 Flu (Dahmer Flu)’, one poster screamed in thick, bold letters. It was followed by a series of completely useless tips and advisories. I caught snippets as I passed.

  …particularly affects children and the elderly…

  …wash the affected area with soap and warm water and keep clean and dry…

  …seek medical attention immediately…

  The poster taped next to it had abandoned the optimism of the first entirely. It featured a pixilated clipart graphic of a police officer and the words, ‘Remember: Murder’s still illegal. Do not kill the ill’.

  We passed through the door next to the reception area, despite the sign that read, ‘patients only’, and stopped in the sparse tiled hallway. Lisa and I turned on our flashlights, bouncing light throughout the enclosed space; she handed Madi another, who did the same.

  I turned, hearing Lisa’s voice. “Madi, Robert- in here.” She held open the door to the supply closet opposite the receptionists’ area.

  “Why?” Madi asked. “I don’t want to go in there.” Robert nodded in agreement.

  “It won’t be long,” Lisa countered. “I just want you to stay here where we know you’re safe. Until we can check out the rest. Got it?”

  Madi turned to me. “Dad, do we have to?”

  “Yeah, just for a bit. Stay there ‘til we come get you.”

  Defeated, Madi and Robert filed into the small room, flipping the flashlight on as the door closed. I sensed that Lisa knew what she was doing, and trusted her instincts.

  “In here,” she said to Travis as she pushed the door open and walked into the first of the examination rooms. “We’ll get-” She stopped in mid-sentence and backed from the room; a badly decomposed body was propped upright on the examination table, only partially obscured by a white sheet. Its socketless eyes stared in our direction and the slack jaw fixed the mouth into an ironic grin. The smell of old death raced from the room, releasing as much into the hallway as it could before we closed the door on it. The stench lingered, but didn’t seem to bother any of us any longer.

  The next room was empty, and Lisa talked Travis though the process. He looked to be near death already, having gotten worse even since we entered, but he still grasped his pistol with a white-knuckled grip as if he could intimidate death itself with it.

  “Hop up,” Lisa instructed with detached professionalism. Travis did as she asked, although it was far from ‘hopping’ when he eased himself onto the examination table and leaned heavily against the raised backrest. She held his eyelids open and shined her light into the pupils- they didn’t react to the light. “I’m going to find what I need; this place looks like it’s more or less intact. Try to stay awake,” she said to him before disappearing into the darkness. I could hear her rummage through nearby cabinets and containers before she returned, carrying three large needles. She pulled a free-standing wheeled metal tray closer to the table and carefully arranged them in a specific order. Travis looked nervous, but he was already having trouble lifting his head from the cushion, following instead with his eyes. The gun sat in his lap, held with a limp hand; it was tempting to try for it, but I wasn’t sure how much strength he had left in reserves. When I closed for a better look, he shifted the barrel towards me- he was still watching.

  Lisa held up the first of the needles where Travis was able to see. “This one is Fentanyl, it’s going to help with the pain.” She put it back in its specific place and picked up the next in the series. “This is the Niacin, this is going to draw the toxins out though your pores.” He nodded slowly as she replaced it and took the last. “This is an antiemetic; it’ll help with the nausea you’re going to feel. Do you understand?” He nodded.

  With precise, practiced hands, she gave the quick series of injections. He didn’t react to the needle, but after a few seconds his eyelids began to grow heavy. He struggled to keep them open, but they closed despite his efforts. He grimaced as he tried to lift the gun, but his body betrayed him and he struggled uselessly with its weight before giving up with a frustrated and forced groan. In a few moments he was still, except for shallow and labored breathing.

  “What did you do?” I whispered, as if he’d wake. I carefully pried the pistol from his loose hands and tucked it into my waistband. The safety was already on- I didn’t think too much about what that could mean.

  She didn’t take her eyes from him, watching to make sure he stayed under, as she explained. “It’s much like the first part of the rapid sequence intubation process.” I had no idea what she was talking about, but didn’t interrupt. “The first shot was an overdose of Fentanyl, which acted as the analgesic. Followed that with etomidate, which is a se
dative hypnotic agent, then succinylcholine as the paralytic. Weak as he was already, it was pretty quick to knock him out. Normally, this’d be followed by intubation, but that’s not really the point here. He’s all yours.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  She looked at me as if I were a naive child and rested a hand on my forearm. “Brad, are you going to let him live? He’s bit- there’s no hope for him. By the time he wakes up, he’s going to be another one of those ‘stalkers. Don’t leave him to that; let him go out in his sleep. Be merciful.”

  “Okay, yeah,” I answered. She left the room towards the supply closet, leaving me to my macabre task. “Sorry this happened to you,” I whispered to his still form. I wondered if he was able to hear me. “I hope your family’s okay; at least they didn’t have to see you like this.” I brought the crowbar high over my head, and then brought it down directly onto his forehead. His skull split neatly as the metal bar sunk deep into it, spilling pink brain matter and splintered bone down his disfigured face and onto the table.

  It was easy this time. It didn’t used to be easy.

  I saw the flashlight shining from the reception area; Madi and Robert were searching for anything useful. Lisa, too, moved from one area to the next, loading medicines and supplies into a clean pillowcase. Seeing me, she stopped what she was doing and came to my side.