by TW Brown
I made my way down the hallway of hushed conversations and teenagers that were acting more like frightened children being dropped off for their first day of preschool. I pulled up by a fountain a few feet away from a trio of girls.
“…says that her mom made them help tie her dad down to the bed because he kept trying to attack them,” one of them was saying in a hurried whisper.
“Jessie said that she saw a man behind the Dumpster in the Safeway parking lot, and that he was eating what she swore looked like a dog!” another girl exclaimed.
“He was probably one of those gross homeless people all spun out on meth,” the first one tried to insist.
“Yeah, well my dad says that this is something worse than the news is letting on. He is home right now packing things into the RV. He says that we are leaving this afternoon for someplace in Eastern Oregon where he goes during hunting season,” the girl who had told about the supposed dog eater commented.
I decided that maybe I should just head to the faculty lounge. Teenagers—especially the girls in my experience—love to over exaggerate and overdramatize.
I was anxious to get to my classroom, but it was obvious that something odd was going on here. For the first time ever, I was beginning to wonder if maybe I’d become too cynical when it came to the news. After all, it seemed there was always some sort of illness that they would pound into the public’s consciousness. I just could not get worried when some bug or another would be claimed as being responsible for the deaths of nine people in some backwater province in China. I knew that there had been a lot of talk the past few days, but I’d ignored it.
I was a little disappointed when the first person I saw as I opened the door just happened to be the unpleasant woman from the parking lot. I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. A handful of other teachers were clustered around a table that had a ratty looking coffee maker sitting on it; that seemed like the place to be.
“Evan,” a man’s voice called from my left. I glanced over to see Principal Julian Gordon poke his head up from behind a newspaper.
“Principal Gordon,” I returned the greeting and adjusted my course to head over to the collection of chairs and a loveseat that had a rip where some of the stuffing poked out.
“Looks like your first day is going to be a short one.” Principal Gordon folded his paper and tucked it into a small pouch sewn to the side of his chair.
“Why is that?”
“Where have you been?” he said with obvious surprise at my ignorance of whatever this bug was that had everybody so worked up.
“You guys are talking about this Blue Plague thing that the media is blowing up and scaring folks with?” I tried not to sound too derisive, but I really did not have much faith in the spin machine that was our so-called news media.
I looked around the room and suddenly realized that everybody’s attention was now directed at me and the principal. I felt my mouth grow dry at the ominous feeling that filled the faculty lounge. A bell rang signaling the start of class, but I wasn’t the only one to jump at the sudden sound.
“The rumors are that it is some sort of human rabies that is spreading like wildfire,” Principal Gordon said with a grimace once the ringing stopped. “Riots were reported this morning in Tokyo, but the worst is North Korea. They just went dark about twenty minutes ago and the president is calling some sort of security council meeting.”
“The internet is saying that a town in Kentucky is being completely quarantined and that the citizens have all turned into crazed, blue-faced lunatics that are acting like gee-dee zombies just like you see in the movies,” a man wearing a red flannel shirt and faded jeans growled from where he stood staring out the window on the far side of the room. Easily over six feet tall and with reddish-blonde hair that had him looking like the man on the Brawny paper towel packages if you added in a well-groomed and impressive beard that rested on his barrel chest, Carl looked exactly like I thought a shop teacher should.
“Carl, don’t be ridiculous,” the principal scolded. “Carl is our resident conspiracy theorist…and when he isn’t filling that role to the fullest, he is our woodshop teacher.”
I laughed and then wagged my finger around the room at all the assembled teachers. “This must be some little ritual or something that you folks do to the new guy.”
“You really think the media is just making this stuff up?” the parking lot lady said in total disbelief.
I was about to say something about how they’d blown up things like H1N1 and West Nile when my phone buzzed. I was still getting used to having a cell phone and it took me a few seconds to realize the source of the tingly buzz in my pants pocket.
“Excuse me, just a second,” I said, holding up a finger as I saw Stephanie’s name on the screen.
We had a standing policy about calling each other at work: we didn’t. When you were on the clock, your time belonged to your boss. If she was calling me, then it had to be an emergency.
“What’s wrong, Steph?” I asked in a loud whisper as I stepped back out into the almost empty hallway.
“There is a man in our backyard and he is trying to get in the house!” Stephanie sobbed. “He tried to attack Chewie…she managed to get away, but he bit off a piece of her tail, Evan.”
My mind quickly replayed the snippet of conversation I’d heard from the girls gathered by the water fountain. I shook my head to clear it and was about to speak when I heard the sound of glass shattering.
“Steph!” I shouted, already my feet had me moving towards the parking lot.
“Evan, he’s trying to come in through the back door…he broke the window!”
I heard the deep bark of Chewie, but it didn’t really sound like her. This dog had a ferociousness that was not something that I could accept as being from my sweet girl. This was the opposite of my gentle giant. There was the sound of something cracking followed by Stephanie’s scream.
Then the line went dead.
The door to the faculty lounge opened and the principal stepped out. “Is everything okay, Evan?”
“No…I don’t think it is,” I heard myself say. The thing is, I felt like I was outside of my body for some strange reason. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be happening.
“Evan?” Principal Gordon said in a loud whisper.
“I have to go,” I mumbled as I started for the exit.
I could hear the principal calling me as I sped up from a fast walk to a jog and then a run. I reached the exit and slammed the door open so hard that the clang made me jump and caused some nearby dogs to start barking.
I was just reaching my truck when a voice called from almost directly behind me. I spun, a fist raised as if I felt like I was about to be attacked.
“I’m coming with you.” It was the woodshop teacher, Carl. “That phone call sounded serious. If it’s one of them things, you might need some help.”
“One of what things?” I snapped as I jerked the door to my truck open and jumped up into the cab. “I don’t have time for this crap.” I slammed the door and was more than a little surprised to see the burly man stalk over to the passenger side and give the handle a tug.
Exasperated, I leaned over and flipped up the lock as I turned the key in the ignition. I didn’t actually wait for him to get all the way in as I dropped the lever into drive and punched the gas. I was less than ten minutes away, but that could be an eternity if somebody was breaking into my house.
“Thought I heard something about your dog being attacked,” Carl said as he grabbed the dashboard to brace himself while I swerved around a car that was waiting to make a left turn at the intersection that I flew through.
“You were listening in on my call?”
“Friend, your lady was screaming. Everybody in the lounge heard.”
I hadn’t thought of that. The light a half a block away turned yellow. I stepped on the gas knowing that there was no way I would reach it before the light turned red. As I shot through, I heard the honks
of angry drivers in my wake.
“You get us killed and you won’t be doing the little woman any good at all, friend,” Carl said through clenched teeth as I practically drove up onto the sidewalk as I reached the next intersection where I had to turn right.
The truck bounced a bit as it took the corner and I fought the steering wheel to straighten us out. I eased up a little on the gas pedal, but I still had to weave between traffic. At last, I saw my street. At the entrance to the cul-de-sac were a half dozen or so people. They were all just standing in a group. A few were pointing or craning their necks to get a better look. I smashed down on the horn as I approached and was briefly grateful that they at least moved out of the way. I recognized some of the neighbors and made a mental note that I would be in a few people’s faces when this was over. How the hell could they just stand there while Steph was in obvious trouble?
Almost on cue, I heard a scream coming from the direction of my house. It started like a regular scream…but then it changed. This was like nothing I’d ever heard in my life, and it almost made me sick to my stomach just hearing it and knowing the source.
Carl was already out of the truck before we’d skidded to a complete stop. I jumped out right on his heels and sprinted for my front door. He didn’t wait for me and burst into my house. I noticed that he was pulling something from his hip that looked like one of those extending police batons.
Just as I stepped through the doorway, I heard another scream. It was so blood-curdling and terrible. It hurt me deep inside to hear somebody make that noise; knowing that it was Steph caused that pain to burn itself into my soul so deeply that I did not believe the feeling would ever go away even after this was over. A second later, I was hit by the smell. It was the same as I’d detected this morning when I’d left for work, only much stronger and mixed with something coppery.
I had no idea what to expect when I followed Carl down the hallway and to rectangle of light that was the entrance to our bedroom. At first, my eyes could not really comprehend what they were seeing. A dark splatter of blood had sprayed one wall and the drips were making their way down as gravity took charge. There was a strand of black fur on the floor at the foot of the bed that looked like Chewie’s tail. The dog was on the far side of the bed and standing between this man who was covered in filth and where Steph had retreated. Somehow, I’d taken the lead from the woodshop teacher and led the way into the room.
Steph was on her knees on the bed, clutching at her left arm that was gushing blood all over her precious white comforter. For some reason, all I could actually think in that second was how angry she was going to be at having her favorite comforter ruined. There was no way all that blood was coming out.
“Hey!” a voice shouted from just behind me and to my left.
Carl shoved past me and was waving that baton in the direction of the man who’d assaulted Stephanie. I climbed up on the foot of the bed, momentarily cursing the fact that she’d insisted on that pedestal which made the bed sit uncommonly high.
The horrid smelling man brought his gaze up to Carl and what I saw made me pause. His eyes were all covered in a sick yellowish film. It reminded me of this lady down the street with really bad cataracts. Only…there was more to it than that. Besides the hideous film that coated them, they were shot through with black tracers. His mouth was coated in red; obviously from having taken a bite out of Stephanie’s arm.
Those two things were enough to convince me that something was very wrong with this guy. My eyes tracked down to his right side. The coat and shirt he’d been wearing was shredded and I could see his bare skin underneath. I had no doubt that I was seeing his actual rib bones where the flesh had been savaged.
Are those bite marks? I wondered as Carl swung his baton and connected to the side of the guy’s face. I’d just grabbed Steph by the hand of her uninjured arm, but my eyes were focused on a single tooth that I saw fly through the air. I heard it land on our floor with a ‘plink’ sound and I shuddered involuntarily.
The man was now turning all his attention on Carl. He was reaching for the person who’d just struck him and the mangled mouth opened to emit a low groan. Carl swung again, this time connecting with the upper arm. I heard a nasty crack, but the crazy son-of-a-bitch didn’t even appear to notice. He staggered towards Carl and tried to grab the retreating woodshop teacher.
“You seeing this?” Carl grunted as he swung again.
This time I was certain that he’d broken the man’s arm as the baton connected with the right wrist. Still this guy gave no indication that he’d been hurt. He staggered another step towards Carl who was now back-pedaling to get clear of the clutching hands that reached for him.
Chewie had jumped up on the bed and come over to me. I saw a nasty trail of blood following her, and I could now confirm that she’d indeed lost most of her tail.
“Evan,” Steph cried, “what’s happening? What is wrong with that…lunatic?”
“It’s just like I was saying.” Carl took a few steps back, putting more space between him and the reeking lunatic that I was now certain had to be on drugs in order to take that kind of beating and keep coming.
My mind tried to make sense of Carl’s statement. I knew there should be some sort of meaning there, but all I could process at the moment was Steph’s crying and obvious need for a doctor, and Chewie’s terrible injury.
At last, the fog clouding my brain seemed to clear a bit, and I pulled Steph with me as I made for the doorway. Just as we reached it, I paused long enough to yank open my closet and pull out a couple of belts that were hanging up.
“You paying attention?” Carl called out as I pushed Steph out of our room and then proceeded to back out as well.
I watched as he swung that baton again. This time he struck just above the knee. I heard the crack and saw the leg bend inwards at an unnatural angle.
“What the…” That was all I could manage. This was just not possible. That guy should be on the ground, howling in pain and maybe clutching his ruined left knee. Still he came at Carl; although, he was now titled to one side very noticeably as he staggered forth.
Chewie had squeezed past me, and now Carl and this intruder were the only two people in the bedroom. The amount of blood everywhere gave me pause. Looking at this poor man, I tried to figure out how we would be able to explain this to the police. After all, despite his having attacked Steph and my dog, we (and by “we” I mean Carl), had shattered this guy’s wrist, done terrific damage to his knee, and I was almost certain that his one arm had been busted above the elbow.
“C’mon, Carl,” I urged. “We need to get out of here and call the cops.”
Carl paused, leaned forward, and then gave the injured man a hard shove back before turning to face me. “Do you not see what is right here in front of your eyes?” I opened my mouth to respond, but he talked over me, shutting me up. “This ain’t no damn rabies. This is some gee-dee George Romero zombie shit. If’n you’re too stupid to see it…let me demonstrate further.”
I once again tried to speak, but Carl had already turned his back on me. In a flurry of blows, I watched him shatter bones in the arms and then take out the legs. I wanted to stop him. Part of my brain was screaming at me about the wrongness of what he was doing. I backed away with Steph, moving up the hallway, but still able to see what Carl was doing to Steph’s attacker.
“You see what I was saying about this being a gee-dee zombie like in the movies?” Carl called out to us.
It was all just too much. I turned, scooting Steph along towards the front door. She was bleeding, and I needed to get her to the hospital. Something in my head reminded me that I’d had the presence of mind to grab a pair of my belts from the closet.
Turning to Stephanie, I think I registered for the first time just how bad off she was. Her face had drained of all its color and she currently had her eyes squeezed shut.
“I’m gonna get you to the doctor,” I said in a rush. I could hear the heavy thuds as Carl
continued his merciless beating of the sick man in our bedroom. All of this was reminding me of some bizarre scene from a Tarantino movie. “Before we go, I just want to put this on your arm to hopefully slow down or stop the bleeding.”
I had already made a loop with the belt, but now I looked down at her wound and my vision swam for an instant. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from passing out and then I fixed the belt on her bicep, just a few inches above her elbow. The rip on her forearm was jagged and nasty. I could see flaps of skin and strands of muscle all slick and lubricated with a crimson sheen.
“Steph?” I realized that she’d stopped crying hysterically at some point. I gave her a gentle shake and her eyes flitted open.
I stumbled back out of reflex. Her eyes, once beautiful and shiny…always hinting at mischief, were now unfocused and staring straight ahead. Also, I could see the capillaries darkening almost as I watched.
“We need to get moving, friend.” Carl was now standing beside me.
I started to look over my shoulder to the bedroom and he moved into my line-of-sight to keep me from actually seeing what he’d done. But I knew. Yes…in the back of my mind, the knowledge that he’d just beat a man to death in our bedroom was there, and the reality of it was growing. He reached out to guide me the rest of the way up the hall and I jerked from his touch like it scalded my skin.
“I can manage,” I said, although I doubt he hardly heard me. My mouth was so dry that the words were more of a rasp than actual intelligible sounds that conveyed how I did not want his help.
I nudged Steph and she took one slow step after another. I was almost to the door when something bumped into my leg hard enough to cause me to stagger. I looked down to see my dog Chewie staring up at me with her big brown eyes.
I felt myself tearing apart from the inside. There was a trail of blood where she’d walked and her tail was dripping. Steph was bleeding from her forearm and had apparently gone into shock.
“I need your help,” I said to Carl.