by Tim Moon
Ben read the message aloud for Ty and Anuhea.
“That’s useless,” Anuhea said, glancing up from her phone.
Ben flipped over to a 24-hour news channel.
Ty and Anuhea sat down to watch too.
Jordan Jackson was live. That was encouraging. But she looked worn, her professional posture slightly diminished under the weight of the news she was imparting. It looked like she probably hadn’t left work for quite some time. She was already talking about incidents in Hawaii, but it wasn’t the information they’d hoped for.
16
October 11 | Waikoloa Beach Resort and Spa | 0816 Hours
SHIT HAD SERIOUSLY hit the fan.
Rather than finding out that the monsters had been contained, they learned that this disease – or “outbreak,” as the media called it, had spread to many places around the world. Reports flooded in from more than a dozen countries. Just in the United States, most major cities were reporting outbreaks, including Portland and Seattle, the two cities closest to where Ben and Ty lived.
Was this really the way the world was going to end? The idea of watching society crumble before their eyes was terrifying.
Mom.
If Portland was a wreck, then Vancouver, Washington, just across the Columbia River from Portland, would be too. Ben’s mom would eventually need to refill her medication but there’s no way it would be safe enough for her to go out alone. Would mom’s caretaker, Aliyah, stay to help her or would she have to leave to take care of her own family? Of all the places Ben could be when this happened, here he was, stuck on an island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with no way to help.
At that point, Ben knew. Whatever it took, he would make his way back home.
Kona was a disaster, and Waikoloa had gone downhill too. But Ben wondered if the airport had been secured. Wouldn’t that be an important asset to protect? Not just for evacuating people but for the military and other government agencies. Maybe they could talk their way onto a flight off the island. The thought of being trapped here with his mom left to fend for herself made Ben’s heart ache.
He stood up, blinking away the tears that threatened his composure.
Why am I so emotional, Ben thought. There’s no crying in baseball, so you can bet your ass there’s no crying during the apocalypse either.
“Has anyone checked on Eric?” Anuhea said.
Charlotte sat up on the bed. “No, I don’t think so. I should probably go have a look.”
“I’ve gotta use the bathroom, so I’ll see how he feels,” Ben said. “We’ll probably need to change his bandage again, though. Can you get the first aid kit ready?”
Charlotte nodded.
Ben walked over and peeked in the bathroom to see if Eric was awake, but he was sound asleep. A neatly folded towel acted as his pillow, and another white towel was pulled up over his shoulders, like a blanket.
Eric’s head was toward the toilet side of the bathtub, but Ben didn’t think Eric would mind if he took a leak while he slept. Ben figured he could pee quickly enough to avoid waking him, so he flicked on the light and stepped into the room, pushing the door closed behind him. Then Ben pulled the shower curtain a little to block Eric’s view, hoping to shield him from a rude awakening. Eric needed his rest to recover from yesterday’s injuries.
The fan whirled overhead. Ben heard some noise behind him as he lifted the toilet seat and glanced over his shoulder to apologize for waking him.
Eric stood in the shower. The white towel slid down to the bathtub as his chin rose off his chest. Two angry black orbs stared at Ben.
“What the hell?” Ben said, wide-eyed. A shot of adrenaline coursed through his veins.
Eric had become a monster.
How? Ben’s mind reeled, then he remembered his dad’s message. Don’t get bit.
With a snarl, Eric lunged at Ben from the bathtub. He moved surprisingly quickly.
Ben stepped to the side and batted Eric’s arms aside.
The towel on the floor twisted under Ben’s feet and for the second time this morning, he became tangled and toppled over. He fell hard on his ass, bumping his head on the bathroom door.
The monster Eric had become was too dumb to step over the edge of the bathtub, so he fell too. Ben scrambled away, pushing himself into the opposite corner of the room from the fallen creature.
Eric’s head had turned toward the toilet bowl as he fell and he landed face-first into the toilet. His open mouth caught the edge of the toilet bowl, his teeth giving way to the porcelain with a sickening crunch. His jaw popped and ratcheted open wider than normal, tearing the skin at the corner of his mouth. Dark blood seeped out of the wounds. It dribbled down the side of the toilet bowl and quickly spread onto the tiled floor.
Fighting for grip on the slick floor, Eric pushed up off the toilet bowl with a growl. His upper lip had split in two, like a curtain, exposing jaggedly broken and missing teeth.
Ben reached for the door handle in an attempt to escape. But something stayed his hand.
Ben suddenly realized that his next choice could mean the death or survival of the whole group. If he opened the door, Ben might or might not be able to keep Eric contained inside. If Eric got out, there was no way to know that they could stop him from hurting or killing someone.
Ben’s mind flashed to all of his friends in the next room. Then it settled on Oliver. He couldn’t let this thing, a person he barely knew, threaten the people he cared about. Ben definitely couldn’t let him threaten a young child.
Ben slid his thumb over the button in the door handle. With a quick squeeze, it clicked.
Now it was just him and Eric. Game on.
Ben looked around quickly, searching for a weapon, but there were no decent options in the bathroom. Perhaps the only thing he could use was the tiny hair dryer that was attached to the wall.
Eric rose again. Blood dripped from the pockets that had once held teeth. His lip waved like a flag with every movement.
Outside the door, Ben heard Ty yell, “You okay in there? What’s going on?”
“Don’t come in,” Ben yelled back.
Ben heard Ty talking to someone outside the door, but he couldn’t comprehend their words.
Focus.
Focus was key here. If Ben slipped up, even a little, that would be the end of him. So Ben’s mind zeroed in on the threat.
Eric was a gruesome sight. What had once been a normal man had transformed overnight into a demon from hell. His coal black eyes stared at Ben from under a thick brow.
Eric lunged at him again, forcing Ben to pull back. His back pressed into the door, and the metal hinge dug painfully into Ben’s spine.
Ben reached out and held the creature by the throat with one hand to keep himself from getting bitten. With his other hand, he reached for the hair dryer. It fell from the wall and bounced at the end of its cord, taunting him.
Eric’s hands pulled on Ben’s shoulders as he tried to close the space between them. His crooked jaw chomped, eagerly seeking the satisfaction of Ben’s flesh. Ben could see the ugly bite mark on Eric’s neck, a parting gift from his sweetheart, oozing green fluid that swirled and mixed with the dark blood dripping from his mouth.
The smell of it made Ben gag. Bile burned the back of his throat.
Unable to push Eric back, Ben pulled him sideways and then shoved him into the counter top. Both of his hands wrapped around Eric’s neck, and Ben slammed his head into the mirror as hard as he could.
The creature clawed at Ben wildly. Ben turned his head to avoid getting hit, but one of Eric’s hands caught him in the face. His finger jabbed Ben in the eye.
“Ah, you piece of shit,” Ben yelled. His vision burst with twinkling lights as his eyes began to water.
Ben shoved the creature sideways toward the toilet and stepped back. He covered his poked eye with one hand, unable to open it.
Eric tripped over the toilet and tumbled to the floor. Anger welled up inside Ben, and he stomped har
d on Eric’s ankle as he struggled to get up. A satisfying pop told him it was damaged, but Eric didn’t seem fazed at all.
Someone began banging loudly on the bathroom door. Their yelling mixed with growls from Eric, neither making sense to Ben.
Eric twisted on the floor, swinging a hand back and grasping Ben’s left ankle. With his other leg Ben kicked at the arm, snapping it at the elbow and buckling it the wrong way. The sound was like snapping tree branches.
Despite his injuries, Eric kept coming after Ben. Nothing seemed to bother him. How could Ben fight against something that didn’t feel, or fear, pain? But then it clicked.
Aim for the head.
The only times Ben had seen one of the monsters truly die had been when they’d been shot in the head. Or like the fat man, when Ben had crushed the guy’s skull. Ben thought back to the airplane and the news clips from the triathlon. He remembered seeing a police officer shoot one in the head. The monster had dropped like a sack of rice, just like the woman on the plane that the air marshal had shot. But Ben had no gun.
A thought flashed through his mind.
Ben reached down and grabbed Eric, pulling him up to a sitting position. He kept his hands around Eric’s neck. Then Ben straddled him like an MMA fighter and began smashing his head against the edge of the bathtub. Eric kicked wildly under Ben, trying to buck him off.
Blood and drool continued to leak out of Eric’s mouth, it mixed with the pus from his bite wound, making his neck slippery. Ben worried he might lose his grip. So, Ben moved his hands to Eric’s shoulders instead.
With a giant heave, Ben pulled Eric up, preparing to slam him as hard as he could on the edge of the tub. With his movement, however, came Eric’s head. His forehead smashed into Ben’s face just a second before Ben reflexively pushed him down on the edge of the tub with all his might. Pain exploded, radiating out from Ben’s nose. He let out a string of curses any sailor would be proud of. In the split second after his pain, a loud crack had told Ben he’d broken Eric’s neck. But still, Eric didn’t stop moving.
“What the fuck? Just die already!” Ben bellowed at him, wincing from his own injury.
Ben stood and glanced back, looking for anything through his blurry vision that might help. He grabbed one of the toothbrushes sitting on the counter and held it by the brush end, using the handle as a blade.
Eric was still on the floor, growling and writhing clumsily, unable to stand. Ben grabbed him by the hair on his head and put his head back on the edge of the tub.
Feeding off his anger and pain, Ben stabbed Eric in the eye with the toothbrush. The eye gave way with a squishy pop, and fluid rushed down the side of Eric’s face. A flailing arm whacked Ben in the face, right on his already damaged nose.
Ben snapped. He stabbed over and over, yelling, “Diiieeee!”
Tears streaked down his face.
Inky blood splattered the bathtub, like a Jackson Pollock painting. Bright red blood drizzled from Ben’s nose. Eric’s nasal cavity eventually gave way, caving in.
Then Eric went still.
Unaware, Ben kept smashing the toothbrush into what was left of Eric’s face.
Hotness cascaded over his lips, and a metallic taste filled Ben’s mouth. Through his fading vision, he realized he was tasting his own blood.
Then it all went black.
17
October 12 | Waikoloa Beach Resort and Spa | 1415 Hours
TO SAY THINGS were tense would be the world’s biggest understatement.
Ben’s fight with Eric the day before, the grisly chore of moving Eric’s body into the hallway, and another day of bad news had everyone rattled. The group had agreed that it’d be safest to simply stay hidden in the hotel room because right outside their door and their window, chaos reigned. Last night had been the worst. They’d heard fighting, people screaming, footsteps pounding down the hallway, and they’d even heard gunshots.
Today it was far quieter.
For the most part, they just sat and watched TV – glued to it the same way the nation always was during tragic incidents like this. From the safety of their hotel room, they witnessed the crumbling of civilized society.
Finally, the governor of Hawaii had come on TV and declared a state of emergency. He activated the National Guard and ordered them to help quell violence in the streets and to secure key airports on each island. The governor said it was “important to keep critical transportation infrastructure open for emergency response crews.” State of Hawaii law enforcement agencies were ordered to assist the National Guard in securing key resources. The Department of Health was directed to coordinate with the Centers for Disease Control to assess the disease and develop treatment options.
The governor urged people to stay in their homes and barricade themselves in. At this point, government officials didn’t know exactly what the disease was but warned people that the infected were extremely violent and should be avoided.
As if the public didn’t already know.
The one thing the government did know was that the disease could be transmitted through bites from those infected. The governor stressed the importance of remaining indoors and away from other people.
“I guess we learned that the hard way,” Ty said, glancing at Ben.
Ben just nodded slowly, they were out of pain killers and his face still throbbed from his fight with Eric. Thankfully, while he’d been passed out, Charlotte had straightened his nose.
Reports had been pouring in from all over the country. On the news, Jordan Jackson reported that as emergency services were overwhelmed, gang violence had skyrocketed, along with looting and home invasions. Major cities had it the worst because they had large populations, high population density, poorly distributed supplies, and poor defenses.
People were unwinding now that the veil of order and security had been torn off. Old rivalries flared up and decades of frustration boiled over. Gangs began fighting openly in the streets. Sometimes they fought each other and the infected at the same time. Looters were out in force, taking whatever they could. Ben couldn’t see how stealing a TV would help much these days, but that’s the kind of stupid shit people were doing.
It wasn’t just a U.S. problem either. Dozens of countries, mostly in Europe and Asia, were reporting similar problems. Police had initially tried to detain the infected, but attacks and injuries quickly overwhelmed them. Then, one by one, countries began announcing the closure of their borders just like China had. All around the world, people were dying.
One thing stood out to Ben. Amid all the noise in the news, an unofficial consensus had been reached that this was some sort of plague. He was just about to say something when Jordan Jackson came back on screen to report that just moments ago, at the direction of the president, the Federal Aviation Administration had grounded all air travel.
Ty was the first to respond. “Oh my God, how are we going to get off this island?”
Ben shrugged. “For now, we don’t.”
October 12 | Waikoloa Beach Resort and Spa | 1653 Hours
CHARLOTTE SIGHED HEAVILY and walked over to the window.
“What’s wrong?” Anuhea asked.
“I’m tired of eating trail-mix and protein bars. I need something real.”
“Like a salad?” Ty asked.
“Or some fruit, or a steak, I don’t care. Something real and filling. My stomach keeps growling,” Charlotte said with a frown, rubbing her stomach.
Ben knew that their food supplies, mainly left-overs from Mauna Kea and surplus for the other hikes they’d planned, were running thin. Soon, they’d have no choice but to venture out for sustenance. Just the thought of facing those creatures again made Ben’s heart race. So for now, they remained in the room, quiet and unassuming.
“Does your face hurt?” Oliver asked, staring at the dark bruise that had formed under Ben’s left eye.
Ben smiled at him and said, “It sure does.”
“I had a black eye once, just like yours. But it was
this eye,” Oliver said, pointing to his left eye.
“What happened?” Charlotte asked.
“My friend next door, Tommy, threw a baseball at me, and it hit me in the face.”
“Ouch. Did it hurt?” said Ben.
“Yeah, it hurt really bad. Like really, really bad. This much,” he said, stretching his little arms out to demonstrate how much it hurt. “But my mom put ice on it and made it feel better.”
“Well, that’s a great idea. Your mom is very smart. I wish I had ice,” said Ben. He looked over at Ty. “Oliver may be on to something. Where’s the ice machine?”
“I think it’s about five rooms down the hall.”
The only pain relief option Ben had left was ice. And as long as he went out to get it, he wouldn’t be putting anyone else at risk for his comfort. But it meant leaving the safety of the room and going down the long hallway to the ice machine.
After a quick search, Ben decided his most likely weapon would be a toilet bowl plunger that Anuhea had found under the bathroom sink. With the plunger in one hand and the bucket for ice in the other, Ben surveyed the hallway from the peephole. No infected in sight.
“I’ll be right back,” Ben said, glancing back at his friends. Without waiting for a response, Ben unlocked the door and slipped out. He walked quickly and quietly down the hall toward the ice machine.
Despite all the strange noises they’d heard recently, things looked normal. The only things that stood out were Eric’s covered body lying parallel against the wall, and blood smeared on one of the doors he passed. Ben glanced at it as he walked by and wondered if the person who’d put it there was still alive.
As he approached the ice machine, Ben could hear the whirring of the motor, as it kept the cubes frozen. His mouth felt a little dry and he could feel his pulse quicken. The soft noise and the overall silence in the building was unsettling.