The Apocalypse

by Williams, T. M.

  Level Thirty-Seven secure The loud speaker broke the silence again.

  Yeah, sure it was. Just don’t go toward the outside of this giant cylinder we’ve called home for six weeks. The only time we had seen the light of day was our failed trip to Dallas. I was half-tempted to leave. Who would stop me? What would I see? Shit, maybe it was time for me. We weren’t living anyway; we were only waiting for the moment we’d be killed, or worse, become the Undead. If I were lucky, the walls would crumble around me, drowning me in 40,000 tons of dirt and rock. I would die the old-fashioned way, where you held onto your humanity, sans infection, disorder, or whatever the fuck they wanted to call this bullshit. Wouldn’t that be nice?

  I thought of Carolyn - sweet, beautiful Carolyn. Her death had been a blessing in disguise. I realized the choking sound I heard was my hideous laughter. Only two years ago we’d thought cancer was the worst kind of death. How times had changed.

  Colonel Richard Tempest got up and walked away. I didn’t miss the look of disgust in his eyes before he did. His lips pressed in that ugly thin line. An expression with which I’d grown too familiar. It was the same expression he’d held the entire chopper ride back to camp; it was the same expression when he’d called the doctor in Germany. Colonel Tempest, the bearer of bad news. Now, his expression was directed toward me. You damn fool! I could hear his voice now. I wasn’t keeping it together and he knew. The only thing on which he prided himself was keeping it together in the worst of times.

  We’d passed that point a long time ago.

  What would I have to lose? Really? I already lost everything and then some. My decision came quickly and I knew there was no going back. Shit, even if they did get me, the first person I would come back for was the Colonel. I’d be the first of the infected who would know how to get back to the cylinder, who knew my way around. They didn’t think of that, did they? Put everyone out of their damn misery.

  I found the elevator around back, the service elevator that everyone would be avoiding now. Once I stepped in, I slid my card into the access slot, punched in my clearance password that only six of us had, and pressed the button.

  Level One

  The three-inch steel doors slid closed as the elevator shot me to the surface. That moment felt dismal in its own right, sucking me in like a death vacuum. As soon as the elevator doors sealed shut, I knew I’d made a grave mistake.

  Marge would kill me if they were still alive. Thinking about Marge and Emma made my blood boil. Slamming my fist into the cold steel didn’t help either. The pain shot through my hand as I realized I’d probably broken something.

  I pressed every button with my good hand, but it didn’t do a damn thing, it just kept rising to the surface. I thought about my brother and what he would do when he found out how miserably we had failed in Dallas.

  Twenty-two floors left to the surface.

  I relented.

  Nineteen floors.

  I reached for the emergency stop button, giving it one last ditch effort. I was somewhere between floors eighteen and seventeen when the elevator came to a screeching and abrupt halt. My finger still hovered over the emergency stop button as a blinding reminder that I hadn’t yet pressed the button. Why had the elevator stopped?

  Then the answer came.

  The sound was like a hundred marbles bouncing on the roof of the elevator. Then, nothing. The stone silence weighed on my ears. I watched the roof with dread as the seconds passed. It never mattered that I was going to the surface. They were already here. Either way, I was fucked.

  The elevator jolted as it landed on the roof, denting in the ceiling with its weight. Then the second one came. And the third. Three concave dents in the ceiling of the steel trap I was in, as the Undead stood on top of the elevator. They knew I was inside.

  More silence.

  They tapped the ceiling, as if knocking for entry.

  You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.

  The elevator shook as they jumped up and down on top. I don’t know if they were trying to break their way in or knock the elevator loose. The sound of the rocking elevator, their laughter that could be heard through the thin steel, was too much. I began yelling at them to stop, begging for it to end. Then the elevator dropped and I fell to the ground. Pressing myself against the floor as my stomach filled with that hollow feeling one only gets from a sudden drop. Mercifully, the elevator stopped. My temporary reprieve was pointless. The Undead on the roof were completely unaffected by the bone jarring drop I’d just experienced.

  I heard the laughter again, followed by the rocking elevator as they attempted to make it drop again. They wanted me to fall. I didn’t even realize the deafening yells that I heard were my own until I realized the rocking had stopped and only the whimpering sounds escaping my lips could be heard. I was crouched on the floor in a fetal position, dripping in sweat with my palms over my ears. When I looked up I saw the three Undead peering down from the corner of the elevator. They had peeled back the rooftop and watched me, bemused.

  The strength with which they pulled me through the opening was alarming – as if I was a child. What surprised me most is they didn’t look like the Undead that we had been dealing with until now. They looked very human. Human, except for the blood-filled gazes that peered at me with a strange intensity.

  The largest of the three threw me against the cables of the elevator and then stepped toward me, pressing his hands against my chest, holding me against the cable.

  My instincts were screaming at me to fight, but I knew it was useless. I just hoped they’d make it quick. I doubted it though. “What’s your name, pretty boy?” the one with the Russian accent asked.

  “What?”

  The other two laughed boisterously as the one questioning me slapped me across the face.

  “Your name,” he said, quietly. “Marcus.”

  My mind whirled. I had no idea what was going to happen to me, but this was the furthest thing I could imagine. “Now,” he said. Before I could even question what he was talking about I felt the sharp prick of a needle in my arm. A needle?

  Eight

  Mallory

  Washington, D.C.

  October 21st, 2021

  Watching Frank standing in the corner like that, watching me - well it set my heart on fire. It set my heart on fire in a way Harry could never do. Damn being the First Lady and damn Harry and his stupid and countless mistresses.

  You would think being a cheating First Lady of the United States would be hard to hide, but it wasn’t. No, in fact, the Secret Service stood outside the basement door as I sat there, making sure no one walked in on us. Being First Lady made cheating a hell of a lot easier and I loved every second of it. After the crap I’ve had to do so my powerful husband could become President, all the things I had to turn my cheek to. No, I deserved at least this -- especially now with the reports coming in about some crazy plague spreading around the world. Reports indicating we would need to relocate.

  I heard the helicopter fly just over the White House and knew that Harry had returned. Frank took a step toward me, ignoring my returning husband. He tilted his head, eyeing me up and down and his eyes darkened even further. How he continued to hide himself was beyond me.

  I thought of Harry stepping foot off the helicopter now and crossing the lush green lawn, a stark contrast to the travesty invading the city.

  I remembered the day Harry proposed to me. It was just after he had won the Senate seat – his first win. It was his first win of many to come. I could tell by the gleam in his eye that he was high on his own achievement. His energy was contagious and was one of the things that attracted me to him.

  “Mal.” He took me by the hand and led me out the back of the hall. “I need to ask you something.”

  I followed him, lost in the flash of lights, balloons, and confetti that danced around our feet. All this for my boyfriend, I thought. I hated to admit it, but being with someone climbing the powerful ranks was definitely appealing. The
re was something to be said for dating a successful politician. You were the hit at the family events.

  We stepped out the back door and the sound of the snow crunching under foot reiterated the silence outside compared to the bustle inside. I could see our breath on the night air and wrapped my jacket around me tightly. Harry looked distracted.

  “You okay?”

  He nervously nodded his head and I realized then what was about to happen. I had been wondering how long it would be before he would ask – if he would ask. We had only been dating six months, but I was ready. I was ready to take the next step. I had secretly been buying wedding magazines and planning out my dream wedding. My heart thumped in my chest as I watched him rub his palms together frantically. He didn’t have his gloves on. My hands were tucked into my arms and I was thankful, suddenly, that I didn’t have my gloves either.

  “Mal,” he said again, his voice shaking. He dropped down on one knee, into the snow.

  “Harry! It’s too cold!” I tried to pull him up but he

  continued to kneel, quivering in the cold. “No, It’s perfect,” he whispered.

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small, black velvet box and I gasped. Any doubt I had that this was the moment was dispelled. He lifted the lid and a gleaming, single-stone diamond engagement ring shone back at me.

  “Mallory, I love you.” He took the ring out of the box. “And tonight, winning this—” he waved his hand toward the party, “made me realize that my life would still be nothing without you.”

  I felt a warm tear fall down my cold cheek and I nodded, not daring to say anything.

  “Will you complete me and be my wife?”

  I said yes immediately and began gushing tears of joy while he slid the ring on my finger. He stood and embraced me for several minutes.

  That was then.

  His excitement and passion for politics was consuming and intoxicating. I’d loved that about him then. I hated that about him now. It’s true what they say. A man that powerful in office is making up for what they lack in bed.

  I was enjoying every moment as Frank closed in on me, stalking me as if I were his prey. I loved the hunger in his eyes that I had never seen before.

  He even snarled.

  I felt his mouth clamp down on my collar bone and the mix of pain and pleasure surged through my body. He was rough and I found that I loved it. It wasn’t long before we both were covered in sweat from head to toe. The sex ravaged us and it felt utterly primal in every sense of the word.

  There were a few moments when Frank had scared me with how raw his hunger was. Now that I relived the memories, I loved every second of it. He had pounded me so hard that I bled like a virgin and the pain sent warm sensations through my body. When he ran his hands up my thighs, licking the blood off his hands, groaning in delight, I thought I’d lose it right then and there. Lose myself to him again.

  He looked at me as if he owned me and I was all that existed for him. Harry barely looked at me anymore.

  “You’re mine,” Frank hissed through his teeth into my ear, sending shivers down my spine, inciting a fear that I loved. What the hell was happening to me? He was bringing out all the animal instincts that I didn’t even know I had in me. I was half-tempted to escape to this room with him forever, never to look back at my duties as First Lady.

  With word about the infection spreading, no one would even notice this scandal.

  That’s when it hit me.

  Suddenly the air in the room became so dense I couldn’t breathe. I looked down at Frank’s hands, still covered in my blood. Why hadn’t I noticed this before? His hazel eyes were a deep ebony color and his tanned skin was now pallor. How had I not noticed?

  I felt strange from head to toe and knew my body should be reacting differently to this revelation, but instead my heartbeat was steady and I wanted more of him. I couldn’t get over this inner battle and he watched me with delight as I quarreled internally.

  I somehow managed to stand up and back away from him, knowing what was happening was so very wrong. Everything that was wrong made my heart yearn for more. I wanted it that way. He threw me against the wall with brute force and a shockwave of pain ravished my body. I should have fought what he did to me, I should have screamed but I didn’t. I let him take me over and over again.

  When the Secret Service finally busted through the door hours later we were both drenched. They mistook the bloodstains on the floor - or well, maybe they didn’t mistake it for something else. It was what it was. Except the stupid servicemen had no idea how much they were wrong about what I wanted and about who I was already becoming. I watched with delight as Frank snapped each of their necks easily and it made me giggle.

  “Time for you to go,” he painfully whispered in my ear. “I don’t want to go.”

  “I know you don’t. But you must play the part. It will be a long time before they realize what happened to you and by then it will be too late. That’s when I’ll come for you.”

  He ran the tip of his tongue up my throat, my chin, nipping at my lip and leaving a droplet of blood there. As I watched him shudder while he tasted my blood, I knew my world was a better place as a savage.

  Nine

  The President of the United States

  Verkhoyansk, Russia

  Верхоянск

  Currently -51 degrees Celsius

  November 5th, 2021

  The bone numbing, freezing cold temperatures somehow felt safe. The White House staff, all the way down to our daughter’s yapping Yorkshire terrier, Spock, made camp in some fort in Russia, of all places, just near the Yana River. It wasn’t that the living dead couldn’t survive in the freezing temperatures. It’s, well, it’s that they would freeze to the point of immobility, one of the few things that could slow them down. There were hundreds of thousands of the living dead dotting the edges of the snow and ice-covered land, frozen, but still moaning with life.

  We tried northern Alaska, but it was not cold enough to stop them. So we quickly moved on to an established base here, in hell.

  Now, I sat here watching my Chief of Staff and Vice President of the United States, no longer ‘of’ America, argue over tactics just presented to us; us being the former Russian President (because no one had any clue what happened to the current one) and the son of the former leader of North Korea. We were the only known world leaders to survive, that we knew of.

  Thirty-nine of us sat around in a makeshift bunker, huddled, in our three-inch-thick oversized coats and hats. Shivering. We all shivered, except our Russian friend who hadn’t taken his eyes off my wife, our First Lady, since we’d arrived nine weeks ago. He was nice and toasty.

  My Chief of Staff and Vice President had never gotten along, and today was no exception. “American Leaders in a Cat Fight.” the headlines read the day before the first known outbreak. It was the last news we would ever see that didn’t involve the infection. Serves me right for hiring feisty women just to quiet the Democratic Party.

  “We’ll need to determine whom to save and move them into the designated cold territories. It’s as simple as that.”

  The Oceanographer, I think his name was Peter, was the only one presenting any good theories. The poor man, like so many others, had already experienced great loss. He looked so distraught that he could’ve almost been mistaken for one of them. His skin had lost its color, his eyes were a dull brown, and hollow cheeks showed weeks of despair.

  “Peter.”

  “It’s Patrick, sir.” Damn. “Sorry, Patrick.” “It’s okay sir, really.” “Your brother-” “Marcus”

  “Yes, Marcus, any word from him yet?” “I’m afraid not sir.”

  I’m not sure for how long Spock had been whimpering, but it was my daughter’s nervous, worried voice that caught my attention. It was that sound one’s child makes that can break a parent out of any reverie.

  “Mommy? Mommy? What are you doing?”

  I only caught a glimpse of Mallory�
��s vacant eyes before I saw what she was doing. Poor Spock was desperately trying to escape her arms and she just kept petting the thing like she wanted to flatten him out. She was enthusiastic about his demise.

  That was not my Mallory.

  Shit.

  It took a beat. That was all. Everything else happened too quickly. One of our guys grabbed my daughter, quickly bringing her over to me. Three other men dragged Mallory up against the wall, pushing her against it using her neck. She didn’t care. She would no longer care.

  I could vaguely hear my daughter screaming for Spock. I coaxed the dog over, numbly handing the poor pup to Katelyn, my sobbing child. Two doctors ran over to check Mallory while our agents worked on restraining her. I would almost have welcomed a look of rage on her face. I would have even welcomed that bemused expression she’d just had, anything except the vacancy that took residence on her features. She wasn’t completely gone yet, but it didn’t matter, there was nothing there.

  “Daddy? What’s happening?”

  Good question.

  They took Mallory into a holding cell. She was different from the others we’d encountered. Somehow, she still seemed in control of herself.

  Ten

  Marge

  Dallas

  December 10th, 2021

  Please, I begged mentally. I pressed my body against the brick wall of the alleyway and waged war with my thoughts. I thought of Emily back home, hiding in the corner of the closet, and desperately wanted to get back to her. I thought of our empty fridge and cabinets. We needed food and water and I was running out of choices. Fear froze me. If I didn’t make it back to her alive what would happen? Tears stained my cheeks as I tried to calm myself.

  I dashed down the alley to the only store that had a chance of having food and water. Emily, I whispered, encouraging myself to move forward fast. I made it to the convenience store without incident.