by David Lovato
“This is seriously bullshit!” Lacie said.
“Thank you!” Dex replied.
“Look, guys, I know we’ve been through a lot. Whatever’s happening, clearly it goes beyond our plane. Something seriously messed up is going on. But we’re not very well off out here. We’re going to get to Astoria, and we’ll figure everything out once we arrive.”
The others seemed calmed by that, but Layne wasn’t. Whatever had afflicted their plane and the helicopter could easily be waiting for them in Astoria, but he had to let them keep their hope.
Layne turned north. He wasn’t sure what to expect. A six mile hike didn’t sound fun, but compared to what they could be hiking toward, it might be the best six miles of his life.
Screams in the Night
The sounds of panic, bloodshed, and screams echoed off of the cold walls of the prison.
The ones who had changed in their cells stumbled around them, trying to get out. They were unable to, but they viciously attacked any normal person who passed by. After the first night, there were no more normal people passing by at all.
The man in the cell had hoped someone would have opened them; his chains assured that he could not have gone anywhere, but he was curious to see whether the creatures would see him as prey and brutally murder him, or if they’d see him as one of their own.
But the cells didn’t open. Likely, the guards had no idea what to do, and letting the prisoners starve in their cells seemed a better idea than letting them all run loose. Not all of the prisoners had been in their cells when the hex went out, and surely some of them and even some of the guards had turned. Hence, the screams. But Norman couldn’t see any of this, so he couldn’t know for sure. All he could do was sit in his cell, and listen to the screams.
That was all right with him.
Part Three
In the Middle of Hell
20
In the City
Still unable to believe her eyes, Zoe continued down the street. All around were the still-burning remnants of car crashes and telltale signs of last-ditch efforts of survival. Bullet cases littered the ground, gunshots rang in the distance, some not far at all.
And in all of this, she was still alone.
After a moment that seemed like a lifetime, it occurred to her that she wasn’t safe. Those things were everywhere, devouring anyone they could get their hands on. She decided it would be best to get off of the street.
The buildings nearby didn’t appear to be any safer. Windows were broken, a body hung from a high story a few blocks ahead.
Before she could settle on a safe place, Zoe was spotted by a few of the crazies, who began a mad shamble toward her from all directions.
With the city to her left and an open stretch of dead field to her right, Zoe decided to make a dash for the field. There was little out there. Zoe picked up her pace and jogged down the hill and into the field, where the grass was longer the deeper she went out, but never reached past her waist. The creatures followed for a while, but as the distance between them and their potential meal grew, they lost interest and headed back to the city to hunt for closer potential meals.
Zoe continued through the field until the chaos of the city’s edge faded away. Once or twice, she thought she saw someone or something among the grass and quickly thickening trees, but second glances yielded no sign of anything else out here.
Zoe made her way through the trees, and even though it was midday, it was getting darker as she progressed. Finally she convinced herself to stop running, and collapsed to her hands and knees. She wanted food, had thrown up what little she had in her already, and felt like she would only throw up more. Regardless, there was none around. She was alone in the woods, with only the clothes on her back and an MP3 player, and headphones still wrapped around her neck. She reached into her pocket and retrieved it while unwrapping the cord. The screen of the MP3 player was cracked. Zoe tested it to see if it still worked, prayed that she could at least have music in this nightmare world. The MP3 player turned on, it would work for her, so she slipped it back into her pocket.
Zoe knew the city surrounded the wooded area on all sides, and that it wasn’t very big. There were probably even some houses dotting its edges. She decided to stay within the shelter of the trees and collect her thoughts, hoping that those things wouldn’t pour out of the city and into the woods.
As the hours passed, deciding to collect her thoughts turned into deciding to camp for the night. The woods didn’t seem to have much wildlife, and it was summer, so it wouldn’t get too cold. Her biggest worry was the zombies, as she had finally convinced herself to call them. And why not? They ate people, they were dumb, and if Zoe believed her instincts, being bitten by one of them would turn her into one. “Zombie” was as good a name as any. Her thoughts turned back to being bitten, to becoming one of them, and how close “zombie” was to “Zoe”. It was almost humorous; at any given time, she was only one bite and three letters away from being a zombie.
She debated whether to make a fire. It could keep animals away, but it could draw the zombies in. She had always wanted to spend some time around a campfire out in the middle of the woods, preferably with someone to talk to, but not in a situation like this. In the end, there was no one to talk to, and safety was a large factor, so Zoe decided against building a fire.
It grew very dark in the woods when night came, but as Zoe suspected, it didn’t get very cold. She supposed her plan would work; she could wait out in the woods until morning and then seek help in the nearby houses.
Falling asleep would be difficult. The ground was soft, but it was no bed, and the zombies could appear from any direction at any time.
Before she even attempted sleep, she heard something in the woods. It began with a simple snapping of twigs and rustling of leaves. She had heard similar noises all day, but this was different somehow, and after a few moments, Zoe realized that it was in the consistency. The sounds followed a pattern as they grew louder.
It sounded like footsteps. Someone had ventured into the woods after all. Zoe reached for a nearby stick. It was thick enough to pack a punch, but small enough to wield with ease. She was lucky it had been there; the darkness made it difficult to see anything.
A young man stepped into Zoe’s tiny clearing. He had blood on his shirt, but he was unarmed, and he seemed normal.
“Hello?” he said. “Is someone there?”
“Don’t come any closer,” Zoe said. “You’re not one of them, are you?”
“Of course not. They don’t talk.”
“Of course,” Zoe said, though she had no idea whether it was true. She lowered her stick.
“I escaped into the woods,” the man said. “Came from the city.”
“So did I, only from the other side. Guess it doesn’t get much safer, does it?”
“No. This is happening everywhere. No idea what caused it.”
“Well, those things don’t seem too interested in coming out here.”
“I guess not.”
The man sat down a few feet away from Zoe.
“I thought I’d rest here for the night,” Zoe said. “In the morning I’ll head for the houses on the edge of the woods.”
“They probably aren’t very safe,” the man replied. “But they’re probably safer than the city. People there probably had time to prepare. Those of us in the city, we got blindsided.”
“I was on a bus. Everyone else… They died.”
“Well, I figure I’ll get through the woods and then just lie low. Head along the road until I’m out of the city. I’ll leave early enough so I can see, but they can’t see me.”
“Well, it’s nice to have someone to talk to for right now,” Zoe said.
“Yeah,” the man replied.
For a while, things were silent. Zoe thought about asking the man if he would be willing to sleep in shifts so they could watch each other’s back, but decided against it. She didn’t know him, couldn’t even see him, and wasn’
t sure how safe she was. It would be wiser to simply stay silent, not let him know whether she was awake or asleep, or even where she was.
The two talked a little into the night, and eventually, the man stopped answering. Zoe assumed he had fallen asleep, and eventually, she did the same.
When she woke up, Zoe was covered in a fine layer of dew. The man was gone, and left no sign that he had ever been there. The sun was coming up, but it was still dim out. Zoe got up, stretched (and realized that sleeping on the floor of the woods had made her incredibly sore), and then headed out.
It wasn’t long before Zoe, accompanied only by the sounds of frogs and birds, reached a small house. It was white, but the paint was faded. There were no signs of any other homes in sight, and there was also no road. Only a small dirt trail led off into the woods and to what Zoe figured eventually became the city. The isolation explained the chipped paint—there was absolutely nobody around. No reason to keep up on the house’s appearance with no one around to see it.
The lights didn’t appear to be on, and Zoe waited for a while, listening. She heard only the sounds of the woods and, farther off, those of the city. She tried to ignore the latter; it was filled with car horns, the muffled firing of guns, the occasional scream, and even more occasional explosion. But from this house she heard no sign of life.
Zoe walked up the twisted wooden steps to the old but sturdy-looking wooden door, and knocked.
21
On the Way to Lynnwood
Martha sat quietly during the commute to Lynnwood. It was a short drive, but everyone was scared, so it seemed like a lifetime. Martha cradled the old picture frame for a while. She stared at it, into it, wishing like hell she could go back to that time. Things were simpler then. Martha and Charlie thought they would live and love forever. Sure, it was naive to have such notions, and she knew it, but young people are dreamers. God knows she was. As she aged, she began to realize life wasn’t going to go on indefinitely. She had an expiration date, so she found it best to live like there’s no tomorrow. Which, she thought, just might be true now.
“You’ve been staring at that picture for a while, Grandma,” Francine said. “Are you all right?”
“Hmm?” Martha said. “What, honey?”
“Are you okay, Grandma?”
“Yes, I’m all right. Once we get to the stadium, I’ll need to get some rest.”
“We’ll be there soon.”
“Ah, what the hell is this?” Billy said. They had just made it onto the exit ramp they needed to take to get to Lynnwood. A few cars ahead, a pickup truck was clogging up the works.
The sun had just begun to fall, the sky was changing color. If they were lucky, the jam would clear up before it went black. People continued to honk their horns, and some tried to edge closer, though that did them no good.
The door of the pickup opened, and the driver got out. He almost fell down upon exiting the truck, but regained his balance and, just under the speed of a jog, went for the nearest person.
“Fuck, that guy’s one of them,” Billy said.
“He’s not the only one,” Beverly said. She pointed beyond the exit ramp. More zombies were making their way to the traffic jam, trying to get to the people in their cars. Alan, who was just a car ahead of Martha and her family, opened fire. He only had a clear shot at a few of them. He stuck his head out of the window and made a spinning motion with his hand. Billy rolled down his window, letting in the screams of people who were being attacked.
“Can you back it up?” Alan asked.
“Too many cars behind me,” Billy said. “We can’t just sit here forever.”
“We might have to for a second, unless you guys want to walk the rest of the way.”
The driver of the car at the front of the jam decided to bite the bullet. She hit the gas and rammed the front end of the pickup, moving it out of the way, then sped off into the city, leaving an opening for the others.
“Looks like we’re good to go,” Alan said. He popped his head back inside the car and rolled the window up.
Slowly, the cars funneled through the gap and continued their journey.
“Thank God,” Emily said. Billy rolled his window up and followed Alan.
****
When they got to the stadium, they exited their vehicles, grabbed their belongings, and high-tailed it to the entrance. There were two long lines leading to two of the main entrances. Police officers equipped with guns and armored vests stood at either side of each door. They ushered people along, stopping to dispatch the occasional zombie. The people in the lines did their best not to panic.
The officers stopped Martha’s group before they could enter.
“All right,” one of the officers said, “we need to get you guys checked, quickly. I’m Francis, I’ll be conducting body searches to make sure none of you have been bitten.”
“None of us have been bitten,” Billy said.
“For your safety and the safety of all the people in there, this is something we have to check for ourselves,” Francis said. “We can’t afford to make any mistakes. One of those flesh-eaters gets in here, and we’re all screwed.” He pointed at Beverly, who still sported some of Tylor’s blood on her white shirt. “Ma’am, that isn’t your own blood, I hope.”
“I wasn’t bitten. It was my husband, he’s dead. I’m not bitten.”
“We can’t afford to take chances,” the officer on the other side of the entrance said. His badge read “Vans”.
“What are you suggesting?” Martha asked.
“We need you to remove your shirt, ma’am,” Francis said. Beverly’s face flushed.
“Now wait a minute,” Emily said. “You can’t expect her to undress in front of all of these people. And don’t you have any female officers?”
Vans shook his head. “She isn’t the only one. All of you will have to lift your shirts and pant legs. We apologize, but this is an emergency. We can’t set up one entrance for males and one for females, that would take too long. It’s best to just get it over with.”
Beverly lifted her shirt. Her face was red. Vans quickly checked her sides, then motioned for her to put her shirt down.
“You’re good to go,” he said. “I’m sorry for your loss.” Beverly didn’t respond, but passed the officers and went through the door. Alan and Billy approached next. “I’m going to need to take your weapons. Just a standard safety precaution.”
“It’s a safety precaution to take away the one thing that can protect me and my family?” Billy asked.
“First of all,” Francis said, “we are your protection, though that isn’t new.” He brought his face within a few inches of Billy’s. “We can’t let civilians carry weapons in there. Too many crack under these situations, so for the safety of everyone, I am going to have to take your gun. You have my word that we will do everything in our power to keep these creatures out, and to keep everyone within these walls safe.”
“Here,” Billy said, and handed Francis his gun. “I just hope your word holds up.”
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Vans said. Alan handed his gun over. Both men raised their shirts and pant legs and headed through the doors. Martha and the others followed shortly, after being checked by the officers.
The group entered the crowded stadium together. They passed by ticket checkpoints, concession stands, and other shops that hadn’t even had the chance to open. Some of the areas were littered with scaffolding, paint, and brushes.
They found one of the entrances to the field itself, where the survivors were all being corralled. Dozens of people were already getting accustomed to this new living situation, one they were hoping was temporary. Thousands of cots were lined across the field, and an area had been cleared for food tables.
“Well,” Alan said, “let’s find us a spot.”
****
Outside, a man in line was sweating badly. As he slowly made it to the doors, he kept his left hand behind his back.
Vans looke
d suspiciously at the trembling man. “Have you been bitten?”
“N-no,” the man said. “No. None of them touched m-me.” He looked down at the ground.
“He’s lying!” a woman said. “His wrist is bleeding! He’s gonna turn into one of them!”
“Please, you’ve g-got to believe m-me! I just cut m-myself! Let me in! Please!”
“Sir, I can’t let you in there,” Vans said. “We can’t afford to let anyone suspicious through these doors. Leave, or I’ll have to use force!”
“I’ve g-gotta get in… Away from those things!”
He started toward the door. Francis pulled out his gun. “Get back. Now!”
“N-no! I can’t stay here! I have n-nowhere else to go!” He grabbed Vans, who was in the process of drawing his gun, with the intention of pushing him out of the way and getting inside. Vans dropped his gun, and before he could react, the man changed. His grip tightened, he growled, and then took a chunk out of Vans’s neck. Vans screamed, and Francis fired his gun, killing the zombie. The crowd erupted in a panic; a few of the other officers struggled to control them. Some sneaked into the stadium.
Francis helped Vans stand. Vans kept a hand pinned to his neck, and blood soaked between his fingers.
“Do it,” Vans said. “I don’t want to be one of them. You promised you’d do it if I got bit.”
“Yeah,” Francis said. “Yeah… I did.” Francis lifted his gun to his friend’s head. “God damn, I’m going to miss you. It was a pleasure working with you, Vans.”
“It was a pleasure working with you, too, Francis.”
The sound of Francis’s gun was swallowed by the crowd.
It took the other officers about an hour to calm everyone, re-form the lines, and check the hordes of survivors. When twenty minutes passed without anyone showing up, they decided it was time to close and barricade the doors.