“Tommy, what do you mean he was a zombie?” It was obvious there was something wrong with Greg when he was coming at me, but a zombie? Really? There was no way I could even begin wrapping my head around what was coming out of Tommy’s mouth.
Tommy began explaining how he had “inside” details on the virus through his military contacts he was networked with via ham radio. Tommy started with the discovery of the virus, the CDC response, attempted containment and cover-up. He went on to add that the planning and response by the CDC was quickly negated by the rapid spread of the virus. Once a person is infected, the proliferation of the virus and subsequent transformation is very rapid.
Without getting into the origin of the virus, Tommy again emphasized that the onset of the virus is one of rapid infection and assimilation. Not infestation or gestation, but assimilation. The virus will infect a person through a bite or transfer of body fluids through open wounds, and would assimilate the host by re-animation. The result was the living dead. The source of nourishment? To feed on a warm blooded host and desire to spread the contagion.
There was more, which Tommy went on to explain with an almost fiendish excitement.
These zombies weren’t the fictional stereotype. They weren’t rising from gravesites and they weren’t part of some mass herd looking for a scent of human flesh and trying to break down doors to feast. These zombies appeared to have a heightened sense of vision. What I observed in Greg’s eyes (before they ended up on opposite sides of my lawn thanks to Tommy) was that mutation. The milky yellowish glowing substance and enhanced pupil seemed to be evidence of his enhanced vision. They were attracted to sudden movement and the minute heat signatures given off by the living. This must have been what my Sergeant was describing what happened with Bobby at the hospital.
When I gave Tommy a look like I was going to question what research brought about this discovery, I was met with a look that ensured me whatever government clearance got him that information would not be divulged. The look of “If I told you, I would have to kill you” resonated load and clear.
“So, that’s good right? It isn’t the smell that attracts them, so we aren’t going to have masses of the undead trying to stalk us like prey right?” I asked.
“That’s partly good, but the down side to all this is that they don’t have the sluggish demeanor of the zombies of lore. These fuckers are runners. Well, some of them are anyway. It’s more like Left 4 Dead than Call of Duty zombies.”
Leave it to Tommy to reduce a real life situation of life or death urgency into a comparison of video game development. I was hoping his next comment would include the secret government evolution of respawns for the human race, perk machines and alien weaponry. I know, I know, now who’s minimizing the urgency.
“Oh, and it gets better -” Tommy added.
“I didn’t know it was good to begin with…” I snapped back.
“You know all that bullshit people used to write about always leaving out cross contamination with animals?”
“Uh, ok?” I replied revealing to Tommy that I didn’t live in his world and wasn’t an avid reader on the undead. I mean getting some gaming time in to drop some zombies was one thing, but who would spend their time reading that stuff anyway? That’s just weird. I consider myself a geek, not a nerd. I will explain in more detail in an second, to expand on it now would be nerdy.
“This virus isn’t limited to just people. This virus can end up in any mammal.”
What Tommy had just said made me doubly thankful that I never was an avid reader of zombie fiction. I mean, can you imagine having the pre-conceived notion that only humans can transmit the virus or be bit and do the biting? What a false sense of fictional security that would give someone. I can just see the zombie comic-con nerds having fits of “that’s not fair”! It wasn’t until I thought of a zombie mouse or a zombie rat sneaking into a house for a midnight snack that I empathized with them completely.
Tommy could tell by my rapidly changing body language that everything he was telling me was finally sinking in. What I mean by that is I began to wretch out the contents of my stomach without realizing that my placement was releasing it directly into the empty concave of Greg’s skull, as my brain was in shock processing all that was going on. Seeing the stomach bile enter Greg’s sinus cavity and exit his mouth as if he was expelling it made me wretch even more. My reaction caused Tommy laughed so much he was brought to tears.
“You gonna be alright?”
“Sure, I’ll be fine. Nothing to see here.” I said as I gulped what little air I could while dry heaving.
“If you and Kate need some place to stay, I have plenty of guns and supplies next door if you need somewhere to regroup.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’d like to ‘regroup’ here first if you don’t mind. I’ll let you know.”
“Suit yourself, talk to you later then -” Tommy said as he waived over his shoulder and walked back to his home.
I stayed crouching with my back turned away from Greg for several minutes before I could relax my breathing enough to stand up straight. If I thought my head hurt before, that seemed like a picnic compared to how my frontal lobes and temples were kicking like a mule in my head.
I turned and walked to the front door, forgoing listening to the car radio. I felt I had heard more than enough from Tommy and had to figure out a plan to deal with what was quickly becoming my new reality.
I entered the front door, closing it behind me and locking the deadbolt. All I heard was a whimper behind me as I jumped out of my skin and turned around. Kate was standing not five feet away from me, and pointing a loaded Glock .40cal right at my head.
“Don’t you fucking move!” she said, as the tears were streaming down her face. Her knuckles were turning white from the death grip she held on the weapon. I was praying that her trigger finger wasn’t so eager. The barrel pointed at my face didn’t give me much resolve.
My first instinctual thoughts after all I had been a witness to so far, including all of the Zombie 101 Tommy had tutored me on, was that maybe Kate was turning somehow and that she was going to shoot me before eating me. That thought quickly left my head as her eyes were clear, albeit bloodshot from the morning sickness.
The thing about Kate is that, truth be told, I probably would have had more control over her if she had turned. Her hormones were in high gear now that she had another living thing growing inside of her, and she was already a handful prior to that bodily change. Just shoot me now.
“You…and Tommy…you just killed…Greg…why?” she asked as she canted her head to the side, tears rolling down her face and snot running down over her top lip.
“Honey, listen I –“
“Don’t you ‘honey’ me! I saw his fucking head get blown right off! What the hell is going on?’
“Zombies.” Well…it worked for Tommy
“What the hell did you just say?”
“Zombies.” Uh…no. I guess I remember that it didn’t work for Tommy.
“Zombies? Oh, okay. What sick twisted shit are you guys into? I mean a videogame is one thing, but this? I knew that violent shit was bad! I knew it! Look at what you’ve become! What, did Tommy suck you into his reality? I knew all those reports on videogames were right about kids playing too much - but grown men? Are you kidding me?”
“Kate! You can’t in any way compare violence in videogames to killing an actual zombie that tried to eat me on our front lawn!” I argued pointing towards the front lawn as if to give evidence in support of my argument.
“You’ve really lost it haven’t you? What has happened to you?” she said, still sobbing.
“Kate, please put down the gun. Trust me when I say to you that what you think you saw is what you saw, but it isn’t what you think it is.”
After the absurdity of what I just said, Kate looked like she was going to just shoot me right then and there to keep me from ever babbling such incoherent nonsense ever again.
&nb
sp; “Kate, you have to believe me. Look at the TV and the warnings to stay home…remember the CDC footage from this morning? Why do you think I’m home so early?”
“You mean you didn’t come home to help me because I was sick?!” Kate roared.
I could see where this was heading and part of me was wishing that I had been finished off by Greg. At least it would have been over much quicker and less painfully.
“Kate, Bobby is dead. He contracted the virus at work today. It set in that fast. The virus is lethal. He died and came back, attacking people at the hospital. People are becoming infected and turning into real life zombies. Yes, I came home because you were sick. Now let me explain everything to you without that gun in my face.”
Kate broke down. The reality of the news I gave her on Bobby snapped her into my reality. She dropped to her knees and released the gun along with a flood of emotions. I kneeled in front of her and held her tight, crying with her until we had nothing left to give.
Kate looked up at me quickly and uttered “Oh god…” before throwing up in my face. All I could think of is that it may have been better if she had pulled the trigger.
Chapter 8
After having a quick sympathetic dry heave on the floor, I went upstairs to take a quick hot shower to clean off and clear my head. I offered the chance to Kate to shower first to relax her, but she waived me on while her head was in the toilet. Her long dark hair was covering her like the girl from the Grudge as she heaved and periodically looked up at me between bouts. If Kate ever turned I shuddered to think of the eerie similarity she would probably share with that fictional horror figure. I couldn’t imagine her blue eyes glowing yellow.
The hot water was scalding hot, reddening my skin to the blistering point. But it couldn’t have been hot enough to clean the layer of filth that I now felt to the depths of my soul. If anything, the heat and steam only seemed to sear the horrors of the day deeper into my being.
I exited the shower into a room filled with steam and stifling humidity, wiping the mirror with my towel and expecting to see some horrible transformation in my appearance given all I had been through in just a few short hours. I had a sarcastic thought in looking at my reflection. I wondered if I looked like a juicy steak or basted turkey to the undead, as so many cartoon characters would see their counterparts when extreme hunger set in.
I got dressed and found Kate in bed again, fast asleep. It figures that the woman that always wanted to nap would find no difficulty, her newly-discovered pregnancy notwithstanding, sleeping during a zombie apocalypse. Some things will never change no matter how dire the circumstances are. I turned to the closet to gather up my weapons and headed downstairs.
I placed my small armory on the kitchen table and immediately went to every window of the house, closing blinds and draperies. I figured if Tommy’s intel was correct, I didn’t need any movement attracting the undead to our doorstep. I was closing the last set of blinds at the back of the house when the phone rang, making me jump out of my skin and almost causing me to take another shower to clean the mess in my drawers. It was Tommy calling.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Tommy”
No shit. I mean, what phone doesn’t have caller ID? When I call a person, it tells me who I‘m calling. When they call me, it shows me who they are. Why do people you know have the need to tell you it’s them?
“Tommy who?” I said sarcastically.
“Slutmeat.” he replied.
Tommy and I, in addition to being neighbors, were friends online and played a lot of videogames together. While my online persona was simple and an actual name (which is Maximus, which means the greatest), Tommy had chosen ‘Slutmeat’. I never asked, and knowing Tommy, never wanted to know.
“I know, I know. The whole caller ID thing Tommy, remember?”
“Shut the fuck up then.”
There was a long pause before Tommy realized what he said and that since he requested I not speak, it dawned on him that he was going to have to re-initiate the conversation.
“Anyway, how much ammo do you have?” Tommy asked.
“Not sure. I think maybe a hundred rounds of .40cal. They are all in the spare magazines ready to go as always, but I don’t have any spare boxes here. Everything I have extra is at work.”
“What the fuck? Are you kidding me? You’re a fucking cop and you don’t have any ammo?”
“I told you I –“
“That isn’t ammo! Listen, we need to get together and set up our defenses. When can you meet to go over some plans?”
“Tommy, I can’t go anywhere for a while. Kate’s been sick and I need to be here for her when she wakes up.” I replied.
“Oh Christ, she’s infected? You know what you need to do brother, it’s tough, but you have to put her down. No, you won’t be able to do it. I’ll be right over. I’ll make it quick and we’ll have to burn her body in the backyard. Then –“
“Tommy! For shit’s sake man, she hasn’t been bit! She isn’t infected! She’s pregnant and suffering from severe morning sickness. For fucks sake, Tommy! You need to chill the fuck out!”
“I’m sorry. It’s just…well…you know…after Greg and all. Wait...did you say pregnant? I’m sorry man.”
“I know, I know. Just keep calm and slow down a bit. We’ll get this all sorted out.” I replied.
“Copy that. I’ll be over at 1800 if that works for you.” Tommy true to his authoritative form.
“Fine, see you then.” I replied.
Hanging up with Tommy made me wonder what he was apologizing for towards the end of our conversation. Was he apologizing for the fact that he overreacted in wanting to end my wife’s suffering? Or was it that she was pregnant and we were having a baby? I’d have to revisit this one with him later.
I checked up on Kate one more time and she was still out cold. I was glad that she was getting some rest and could only imagine how she was feeling. That reality hadn’t really hit me yet, with everything else going on, that we were going to be parents. That I was going to be a father.
With the world turning on its head in just a few short hours, would it ever return to normalcy? Would the CDC and governmental powers that be get control over this virus and stop the world’s population from feeding on itself? Or was this the new normal? Trying to live by simply surviving? Living moment to moment simply to survive was no way to live. It certainly wasn’t something that I was looking forward to, and definitely not the world I wanted to bring a new life into.
I went back downstairs to inspect the small arsenal I had assembled in the kitchen. I never considered myself a survivalist, but was always mindful of the possibility of civil unrest getting a bit out of hand due to my experiences as a police officer. I didn’t keep a stash of bottled water, never stocked up on ammo and didn’t keep a non-perishable food supply. What I did have was an adequate collection of personal defense weapons in case the wrong people ever wanted to attempt entry into my abode. I had three .40cal Glock handguns and an SOG Survival Kit. My resources now seemed sorely inadequate given the circumstances
Okay, okay. So I wasn’t really a survivalist, but I was an avid videogame fan. What FPS fanatic wouldn’t keep a zombie survival kit on display? And don’t call me a nerd. It’s geek. Want to know the difference? It’s really very simple. A nerd has no social skills, is pop-culture educated to a point of being arrogant about their useless knowledge and has a physical look that alerts you to their status. A geek loves all things technical, reads comics and science fiction, still functions within social circles – all while still having a massively strong sex appeal. Got it? Good.
My SOG Survival Kit included two tomahawks (which I had in the past lovingly referred to as my “skull crushers”), and a machete. Now that I was here looking at everything I had to ensure my survival I got very concerned. While these may be appropriate for home defense, none of the items I had were going to allow me to keep distance between me and a zombie. I regretted all the opportu
nities I had to purchase an assault rifle (or two) in the past, and the fact that Kate wouldn’t allow me to have them in the house. She always argued that what we had on hand was sufficient to provide protection to our castle. There was no need to prepare for the “zombie apocalypse like Tommy” she would argue. Something tells me she would have a different opinion now.
I was alerted to a sudden knock at the door, which told me two things. First, that I had spent way too much time contemplating my dilemma in the weapons department. Secondly, that a zombie wasn’t going to go knocking door to door look for victims and there was someone alive looking for me.
I went to the door and opened it. Before I could even see who it was, my head was reeling backwards with a bright flash of stars in my now darkening vision. I wasn’t knocked out, because I definitely felt the back of my head hit the floor and the rest of my behind with it.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” yelled Tommy.
“Oh, I don’t know. That maybe it was ‘1800 hours’ and I was opening the door for your stupid ass?!” I replied.
“Opening a door without checking who, or what, it is will get you killed. Let that be a lesson to you.”
“Lesson learned, as in the next time you come knocking I won’t let your ass in!” I said as I slowly pulled myself up and rubbed the back of my head.
Tommy had a military style duffle bag slung over his shoulder and asked where he should put it. I motioned to the kitchen table and he laughed out loud as he brushed aside my collection to set his bag down. My kitchen table actually let out a mournful creak from the weight of what Tommy placed to rest there. I was half afraid it contained a corpse of a zombie and Tommy was going to go through a practical lab of their physical enhancements.
Zombie Reign (Book 1): Death in Detroit Page 3