Zapacolypse

by Mixi J Applebottom

  Hunter carried on, explaining what happened. “So then, Eric and Redd came at us when we got here. We shot them in the chest, in the legs, and they’re still…” Hunter paused and pointed at Eric and Redd on the ground. They were still thrashing silently. Their mouths moving open and shut, their eyes glossy and blank.

  Doc made a long whooshing noise. He wasn’t particularly upset and wobbled casually over towards the two men. Carefully, he pulled up on his pants, then slowly squatted down to take a better look, his large frame perched on his feet. Hunter was nervous he was going to topple and quickly walked over to him.

  “Do you have a flashlight?” asked Doc. He would be excellent at poker, having absolutely no reaction to the pale men thrashing.

  Hunter nodded and handed him his light. Doc turned it on and flashed it into Eric’s eyes. He let out a soft hmm, then flickered the light into John’s eyes. He nearly fell over trying to stand back up, and Hunter had to get his arm.

  “These men… they definitely are sick. Might be dead. Brain dead at least. They had no reaction to the light, and I do mean they can’t see,” said Doc. His bones let out a cry of approval as he finally stood up the rest of the way. “I need to pee. I’ve got that shrinking prostate… You know… Like the commercials? I have to pee all the time. Constantly. It is actual urine, that’s what they don’t tell you. It’s not like I have the sensation and have nothing in there. I just pee… and pee… and pee.” Doc sighed.

  Hunter coughed uncomfortably. “Okay. Do you want to go inside?” he asked. Hunter wasn’t sure as he didn’t want to tamper with the evidence, but he couldn’t have an old man peeing outside.

  Doc nodded, and they walked forward, back into the crime scene … back into the house.

  Hunter glanced back at John. He waved in a go-ahead kind of motion.

  As Doc slid slightly on the sticky, nearly dried blood, Hunter wondered what the protocol in a bigger city would’ve been. Probably, they’d just make the man leak outside.

  The house seemed more ominous this time, like it was waiting. Hunter shuddered slightly, a shiver running up him. “Try not to mess up the crime scene.”

  Doc didn’t seem to mind. He just grunted agreement. It took them a while to find the bathroom, the particular layout of the house a little different than most. But there it was, attached to the kitchen. Hunter had mistaken it for a pantry door the first time he saw it.

  Doc slowly lumbered into the small toilet, and Hunter waited outside. It was awkward, the subtle grunts and groans of the doctor on the other side of the door. Disgusting, Hunter thought.

  The car horn blared.

  Hunter shouted to Doc, “Hey, I’m gonna check John.” Then he quickly fled the house.

  John was outside of the cop car. “Hunter, you’ve got to see this.” he yelled, his ruined foot hovering above the ground. He was scooting away from the car on his one good foot.

  Hunter looked at John, sprinting toward him. He knew the man wouldn’t be fussing over nothing.

  John pointed to the back seat. “It’s Linda.” He was still hopping gingerly away, yelping softly each time his bad foot bumped the ground.

  Linda’s eyes were glazed over; she was drooling and completely zoned out.

  Hunter stared at her blank expression. “Monkey brains, what happened?” he asked.

  John explained to Hunter. “I kinda forgot she was back there, she’s been so quiet. But when I looked into the rearview mirror, I could see she was scratching her arm. I called her name, but she didn’t really respond. Now she’s drooling and her eyes are bloodshot.”

  Hunter looked closer through the window like he was at the zoo waiting for an animal to move. Linda was staring out. Her head turned quickly to face Hunter, so fast like she was going to break her neck.

  She slammed her hands against the window, slapping the window, once, then twice, then again and again in painful repetition. Linda would shatter the glass at this rate.

  Linda’s mouth opened and saliva dripped out of it. She opened it again. Hunter stared at her, confused. “Linda?” She stared at Hunter, her eyes empty, but her mouth opening and closing, her hand still slapping at the window in a painful rhythm.

  She violently pounded her head against the car window.

  Hunter stepped back in surprise. A piece of glass wasn’t going to stop Linda for long. She continued until her head started bleeding. Blood dripped down into her eyes and flowed into her mouth. She licked her lips, seeming to enjoy the taste. Then she carried on, spiderweb cracks beginning to appear on the car window.

  What the fraggle rock? thought Hunter. He swallowed hard and tried to use his calm, commanding voice. “Linda, calm down.” Linda wasn’t listening. She carried on pounding against window until a hole started to form in the shattered glass. Her head pushed through the pane, glass tinkling to the ground.

  Hunter didn’t want to shoot Linda. “Poppycocks!” shouted Hunter. “Linda! Can you hear me?” He glanced at John, who was still jumping away frantically on one foot.

  Linda was now sick, just like her husband.

  Hunter scanned the yard, looking for a plan, as she slowly inched out the window. The glass was catching on her skin, slicing as she crawled, but she didn’t stop. Hunter’s brain crashed a little as he realized she could have used the door handle. But, like her husband, she simply bashed her way through. He looked around their home; there had to be something. There was a washing line; he could tie her up. Hunter ran over to the washing line, picking the string that was the least worn, and quickly cut each end with the Swiss army knife he always carried.

  By the time Hunter had cut away the line, Linda was halfway through the car window. He glanced over at her as she wormed her way through the shattered window. But she seemed to have stopped making progress. He walked over with the long, thin string, hoping it wasn’t too old to work. Her mouth was clicking painfully loud as he walked closer. Her arms reached out, and he carefully grabbed them and tied the string around her wrists. He prayed the old string would hold.

  Hunter paused, her mouth still clicking open and shut. “Now what? Do I push you back in the car, or try to pull you through the glass?”

  He didn’t want his fingers anywhere near her face, but he reached forward and pulled on the door handle. The door swung open slowly, and she was still in it, hanging in the air for a moment.

  Suddenly, she lost balance and slid out the window, slumping onto the ground. It only took a moment before she was on her feet, walking straight to Hunter. He backed up quickly, clinging to the rope still tied to her wrists.

  As soon as she got far enough from the car, he ran around her in a circle quickly. His chest was on fire, but just like the toilet paper mummy game he used to play as a kid, he tied her up. He felt a bit like a spider when he was done, the long coil of thin, white rope wound around her body like webbing.

  Hunter wiped the sweat off his forehead. “I guess we’ll have to put her with the others,” he told John, but John was still hopping impatiently away and didn’t reply.

  Hunter headed towards Eric and Redd. May as well have the farmers tied up together, he thought. Linda followed Hunter as he thought she would. He acted quickly and tied her up with Eric and Redd. The weird thing was they didn’t try to bite one another.

  “Holy guacamole …” Hunter said, then paused.

  John nodded. “Yeah, it is a sight.”

  Hunter coughed awkwardly. John was pale and worried looking. He had to help the young man. “What is red and bad for your teeth?”

  John rolled his eyes and glanced up at Hunter. “What?”

  “A brick.” Hunter gave his best grin, and John shook his head.

  “That was terrible,” John said, sighing. His expression changed from amusement to worry. “Hunter!” John shouted, pointing. John was already starting to hop on his good foot back to the cop car as quickly as he could.

  People were dotting the roadway, slowly moving together.

  They seemed drawn to ea
ch other like magnets, forming a small mob that was growing as people joined in. There was a scream and Hunter realized the lady in the front of the mob was… somehow not a part of the mob. She was shrieking at the top of her lungs and looked ragged from running. The mob was too close, and Hunter didn’t have enough bullets to help anyway. He rarely carried much ammo.

  She tripped, and they were on her quickly, like a pack of wolves, gnawing at her. Her screams were short, and then the crowd went silent. The quiet in the air was almost more painful than the screams. Hunter’s feet were frozen to the ground as he stared unwillingly at the mass of people.

  John never hesitated, moving with adrenaline-laced speed back to the cop car.

  A moment later, the mob was on the move again, slowly shuffling forward. Hunter couldn’t seem make sense of it.

  He rushed over to John in the car. “You see that?” He was breathless, one hand holding his hat suddenly. Hunter didn’t even remember taking it off his head. He ran his fingers through his hair, and they came back soaked in sweat. He replaced his hat, his lungs still begging for more air.

  John nodded and said, “What we do?” The man seemed even more panicked than Hunter felt. “Let’s go.” He pointed at the driver’s seat.

  “I’ll get Doc, and we’ll get out of here,” said Hunter forcefully. He glanced up at the house. “I think we are in some serious dung heaps now! Those biting hobknockers are everywhere,” Hunter replied angrily; this was his town, not the hordes’.

  John quickly shut the door of the squad car, this time sliding to the driver’s seat.

  Hunter started running, racing towards the house again, his stomach bouncing a little at the effort. Karen is right. I do need to lose weight.

  There were at least thirty people in that mob already. Maybe more. The people in the fields were walking towards the mob, slowly joining.

  He didn’t have long until they would be at the house. There might be a hundred of them by then.

  Hunter charged into the house. “Doc!” he shouted, completely ignoring his previous efforts to preserve the crime scene. He slipped in some of the blood. Fear was running through his voice, crashing into his tired lungs. “Doc!”

  Doc didn’t answer, and he wondered if he had been turned into… whatever this was. “We have to go! There are more of them,” he shouted, but Doc didn’t respond.

  Hunter pounded his fist against the bathroom door. “Doc!” Hunter screamed.

  He glanced through the living room window and could see the mob turning to the house. They were leaving the road, together, and walking straight for the house.

  “We have to get out of here!” Hunter shouted, pounding on the door again. This time, he could hear the door handle rattle back softly. Panic started to run through Hunter’s chest and he almost drew his gun.

  “Quit rattling things,” Doc said, very slowly opening the door.

  “We have to get out of here before we get trapped in this stupid house,” hissed Hunter, grabbing Doc’s arm. He glanced up at the window and the herd of people was close. The first few were pushing on the house. The house was old and wooden. The walls cried out as the crowd started to push on it.

  “What are they doing!” said Hunter, totally bewildered. He dragged Doc to the front of the house, but there were more of them pushing on that side of the house. He didn’t dare open the door. The house was rocking under their force. The small house was not built for this kind of pressure.

  The house felt like it was shifting on its foundation.

  Hunter grabbed hold of Doc. “We have to get in the basement,” he said and dragged Doc to the basement stairs. Doc was not moving particularly fast, nor was he particularly compliant.

  “I don’t understand,” the wobbly older man said.

  “Just go!” Hunter said as a piece of drywall cracked overhead. The house rattled around them. Cracks appeared on the walls like someone was drawing them in. Hunter couldn’t help but watch. Parts of the plaster fell to the carpet, then one of the walls started to fall inward. They were pushing the house with such force that it was going to collapse on itself.

  Hunter quickly followed Doc down the basement stairs. Despite the falling walls, the basement held firm. It was designed to withstand a tornado. “Holy mutton chops,” said Hunter, breathless. How are we going to get out of this basement?

  Hunter coughed as the dust around him swirled in Linda’s basement. The house rumbled as the herd went over top. Their feet rattled and pounded on the remains of the house. Hunter held his breath, hoping it would hold. The basement had shelves of boxes.

  Doc seemed still, completely nonplussed. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but before he could, they were both startled by the phone.

  Hunter felt his pockets and pulled it out. It was Francis.

  He swiped to answer it. "Dad? There are people here." Francis sounded nervous, but not too scared.

  Doc pulled a box off a shelf and started rummaging through it. He pulled out a little rubber ducky from a box, squeaked it twice, then tossed it over his shoulder.

  The hair on the back of Hunter’s neck started to rise. "What do you mean?"

  Francis started to explain to her dad what was happening. "People came out of the lake. There were… thousands. There's something wrong with them. They walked together, like a crowd at a Black Friday sale. They locked down the school. I don't know what they are doing out there," Francis said, her words desperate.

  Doc leaned forward and sniffed the box slowly, then frowned and looked at one of the many shelves in the basement.

  Hunter was trapped in the basement in horror. "Can you barricade the door? Are you safe?"

  "Yes. I ran to the kindergarten classroom, so I'm with Jack. And his teacher…" Francis paused. "There are snacks and a bathroom. I think we can sit tight for a while. I don’t want you to worry. I mean, we’re safe right now."

  Hunter tried to calm his daughter. "You are going to have to sit tight for a while. I don't know how long, I'm in a bit of a situation myself. These people… I don't want you to worry, Francis, but I can't come right now. I will come rescue you soon," he promised his daughter.

  Doc pulled another box off a shelf with a grunt. He set it on the other box he had sniffed and started rummaging.

  Francis blew out her mouth slowly. "Okay, so you can’t come yet. Are you okay?”

  “I’m okay.” He said, trying to give her confidence. “I’m just going to be delayed. But I will come.”

  “Okay, Dad." There were muffled noises in the background. "I have to go read Jack a book. We’re gonna do a big art project in a minute. I’ll try to keep us busy."

  "Okay, I love you," said Hunter, trying really hard to scrape the fear from his voice.

  "I love you too, Dad," said Francis, and she hung up.

  Doc slowly sniffed at a box, and he seemed to perk up a bit. He pulled out some cans that were labeled Freeze-dried instant meals.

  Hunter could feel his blood rushing to his ears. How many people were like this? If this was rabies, this was the plague version of rabies. He took off his cowboy hat and ran his fingers through his wet hair and then set it back on. He sat there with his phone in his hand, and the screen had gone back to its screen saver mode. But the light was still blinking in the corner.

  Doc started pulling out the packets and sniffing them. He seemed to be examining the labels.

  What was the message? He pressed the button quickly and held the voicemail up to his ear. "This is the state police. A viral infection is spreading rapidly. Please put your city on lockdown until further notice."

  Jumping Jiminy! If he had gotten this message during breakfast… Hunter swallowed hard, his eyes welling with tears. They wouldn't be separated. Francis and Jack would not be at school; they’d be safe with him.

  Doc grinned and ripped open one of the packets. A dry, pink square fell out of it. His eyes went wide as he took a bite.

  Hank and Karen… Hunter paused and he looked down at his ph
one. He flipped to his other missed call. Karen.

  Surely…

  She hadn't left a message.

  Quickly, he pressed the button, but all he got was a busy signal. He hung up and then tried again, but then he got the message the phone lines weren't in service.

  Doc wobbled closer. "Any news?" he said between pink crunches.

  "These people… Whatever is wrong with them is happening at the school too," said Hunter, trying desperately not to sound as upset as he was.

  Doc shrugged. "I see." Again, completely emotionless with the entire affair. “Want some astronaut ice cream?”

  Hunter frowned. “No.”

  "Well, I guess we'll have to wait it out," Doc said and he slowly sat on a crate that was sitting on the ground. The pink square was crunching to bits slowly.

  "You can't seriously expect me to sit here," said Hunter, his voice cracking suddenly an octave higher than normal. He glanced around the basement. All in all, there wasn't much down here. But he saw a way out; there was one window. He could still hear the feet of the mob shuffling overhead.

  Just then, Hunter’s phone rang again.

  He quickly whipped it out and saw it was Karen. “Karen!” he bellowed into the phone excitedly. "Karen!" he shouted again.

  "Hunter?" she said, and her voice sounded muffled. He could hear shifting something, and her voice became louder again. "There has been an incident at the library," she said, and she coughed awkwardly.

  Doc was slowly licking his fingers now, his double chins wiggling at his movements.

  "Well, it's been one of those days," said Hunter, his heart pounding in his chest and ricocheting through his ears. "Are you safe?"

  "I…" She paused. There was another shuffling sound. "I don't know," she said matter-of-factly. "There are these people… And they're not… They look sick."

  Doc frowned slowly, looking around again. He stood and then wobbled back to the box of food.

  "I think I've seen what you've seen," said Hunter dejectedly. "The people here, eating other people. And then they seem… invincible. But also…"