by Jack Wallen
Quite the dichotomy, unless you took the time to really give it some thought. Once your brain wraps itself around the truth, you realize there is little difference now – it’s still the haves and have nots.
My pen hovered over the notebook in which I have been taking notes. There is a fraction of my heart that wants to continue on with the rant, but I know it to be pointless. What is done is done and there is no way any governing body can solve the catastrophe the human race is facing. What with the red tape, meetings, lobbyists, focus groups, and backstabbing politics, we wouldn’t stand a chance if politicians were involved. If a solution for the Mengele Virus is to be found, it is to be found by the people.
Interrupting my little rant was the buzz of my phone.
“Hello? Michelle? What’s wrong?”
Muted screams
“Where are you? Slow down. Tell me where you are. Take a deep breath. Okay, stay there. Gunther and I will be there as quickly as we can.”
Michelle and Mikka’s little excursion didn’t go as planned. A group of moaners managed to trap the siblings in a shop and were beating down Hell’s own gate to get to them. Michelle was in full-blown panic mode, about to witness her sanity peel away, leaving nothing but raw nerve behind.
I grabbed Gunther and explained the situation. We armed ourselves (with guns and Obliterator) and took off toward our destination. Thankfully, Michelle had enough wits about her to know the name of the shop they were holed up in.
Gunther and I ran to the elevator in silence. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to let Gunther know the why of the predicament. Thankfully we had locked the cart on our floor, so the elevator was waiting for us when we arrived. We stepped into the welcoming cart and hit the button to the first floor.
“There could be trouble down there,” Gunther said, pulling out his gun.
I hadn’t thought about that. The first floor now offered open arms to the zombies at large. As soon as the elevator cart stopped and the doors opened, I realized just how much trouble we were in. In the street outside the lobby of the hospital, there had to be twenty or thirty moaners.
“We can’t go out there. There are too many of them,” Gunther whispered.
“We have to get to Michelle and Mikka,” I whispered back harshly.
“What’s drawing them here?”
My stomach churned. “We are.”
We had to find another way out. I couldn’t promise the Obliterator would scare away that many zombies.
“Come on,” Gunther nodded his head toward the back of the hospital, “maybe there’s another exit we can use.”
We took off running as silently as our feet would allow. Stopping to take off our shoes was not an option – time was off the essence.
“How much ammo do we have?” I asked Gunther between breaths.
“If we’re both perfect shots…not enough.”
I wanted to punch Gunther for his answer. What I needed to hear was that we had more than enough ammunition to get to safely to Michelle and Mikka and back.
“How many zombies can the Obliterator repel?” Gunther returned the question with one of his own.
“However many are within earshot.”
“How many zombies does it take to screw in a light bulb?” For some strange reason, Gunther thought it a good time for a bit of humor.
“I give up, how many?” I couldn’t resist.
“Let’s hope we don’t find out.”
I wanted to laugh, and I did, even though the perilousness of our situation didn’t exactly lend itself to laughter. My companions were caught in a shitstorm and Gunther and I were trying to wade through the waters of danger to help them. This whole situation was amazingly fucked.
“You’re not very good at jokes,” I finally replied, trying to lighten the mood myself. My attempt didn’t work either.
C’est la vie. We’ll always have Paris, right?
“I see an exit sign,” Gunther pointed and picked up his pace. For an older gentleman, the guy could really sprint.
The exit spilled out to a parking garage. Perfect. Gunther slowly edged the door open, stuck his head through, and gave it the ‘all clear’.
Gunther took the lead and guided us to the left. When he asked me what landmarks we were looking for I realized I had no idea. All I knew was that we were looking for la Croûte de Pain. How in the hell were we supposed to locate a restaurant commissary in the heart of Paris? There may be an app for that, but there simply wasn’t time to do a search and install while trying to evade the undead.
There was, however, time to dial up Michelle and ask her for a landmark.
I pulled out my phone, dialed the number, and waited for Michelle to pick up. Thankfully she did. Her voice, however, was pitching near madness. She was crying, screaming, and begging for us to hurry. I managed to get her to calm down just enough for her to tell me to look out for a clock tower. The tower should be tall enough that we could see it over the tops of most other buildings in the area. I promised Michelle we would be there soon and hung up.
“We’re looking for a clock tower.”
Gunther picked up his pace. He knew where we were going, he had to. I stayed on his heels as he took a left.
A distant screaming nearly stopped me in my tracks. I hated that sound. I hated that sound even existed.
“There it is!” Gunther pointed excitedly.
The second I looked up toward our destination I was blind-sided by a screamer.
“Bethany!”
I know I heard Gunther yell…but it was hard to make out what he said, seeing as how the gaping maw of death was hovering over me, screeching, drooling, and preparing to dine on my gray parts. The beast spread his jaw as wide as it would go and let loose a hideous battle cry. But the screamer wasn’t just there to inform me how frightening it was. Its cold, soggy fingers wrapped around my head. I knew what was about to happen and I kicked and flailed to try to get the fucker off of me. My right leg kicked up and connected with what had to have once been the thing’s testicles. Nothing.
Thunk
My skull met the pavement. I didn’t want this.
“Gunther!” I screamed, hoping he would do something before I got tunnel vision and started seeing stars.
Thunk
There are the stars. So pretty, so painful.
Before the third (and possibly final) crush of skull to pavement, the Screamer dropped, his weight – dead, final dead weight – holding me down. I pushed up and the thing rolled off. When I looked up Gunther was standing over me, pistol in hand, I half expected smoke to be issuing from the barrel.
“Are you okay?” Gunther’s ice-blue eyes looked down on me, concerned.
“Yeah, a bit of a headache, that’s all.”
Gunther helped me up and steadied me as the stars began to dissipate from my vision.
“Can you run?” Gunther asked.
“Do I have a choice?”
Gunther smiled and we took off toward the clock tower.
This time it was Gunther’s turn to get taken down. The thing leaped out from an alley and took him down, threatening to play the same game with Gunther’s head as the last did with mine. What that screamer didn’t know was that I had a trick up my sleeve. I fired up the Obliterator and let it do its job. The screamer grabbed its own head, gave it a pound on the cement for good measure, and took off.
Gunther stood, brushed off his clothes and said “Now we are even.”
With the clock tower in sight, I scanned the area and finally found the sign reading la Croûte de Pain. My hand immediately reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I dialed Michelle’s number and the phone was ringing within seconds. When she answered the phone her voice told me she was losing it. We had to get to her fast.
“Michelle, we’re –”
“Bethany, look out!” Gunther screamed and fired a shot.
The moaner went down, a single shot in its forehead spilling thick, brownish blood to the ground.
“Mi
chelle, can you see us?” I pressed. “Gunther, she sees us. She’s in the second floor and says the moaners are inside, on the first floor of the building.” I took off toward the entrance, Gunther right behind me.
We made it inside to find three moaners clambering at a door nearly splintered in half. Without hesitation, Gunther drilled each zombie in the back of the head, pushed the still bodies out of the way, and yanked the door open with a squeal of rusted hinges. I couldn’t believe how this man seemed to have the ability to force aside his own pain and continue on as if he hadn’t recently been shot.
Leaping past the entire mess, my feet hit the stairs running. When I arrived, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Michelle was curled up in a corner, Mikka was nowhere to be seen.
“Michelle, where’s Mikka?” I asked hurriedly. I knew the situation was only going to get worse very soon.
“He’s…he’s gone. He led a bunch of them away so I would…be…” That was all she could get out before she lost it.
I helped the girl up and informed her we had to leave and leave quietly. Michelle did everything she could to stifle her sobs.
As soon as we got out of the building, Gunther stopped me.
“Bethany!” I stopped and turned to see what my partner was up to.
Gunther was pointing to the left and then to the right. There were moaners everywhere. They were blocking our access to the building.
“Fuck! What do we do now?” I screamed in frustration.
“I know another way around. Follow me.” Gunther was off and running nearly before he finished his command.
After a breath-stealing sprint to catch up to Gunther, I heaved the Obliterator back in front of me and fired it up. I wasn’t taking any chances, and figured having this baby rocking would at least bring us a large enough circle of protection to allow safe passage to Michelle and Gunther.
“Are you sure of this route?”
“What choice do we have?” Gunther yelled over the noise.
The streets were even more chaotic than before. The screams and crashes seemed to have built to a fever pitch. Why this was happening I have no clue, but it is happening…all around us. Everywhere.
We turned a corner, only to find another group of moaners blocking the street. As soon as they heard the Obliterator some of them dropped to the ground to beat their heads on the cobblestones while others took off in various directions.
Our options were running out. It seemed every direction was clogged with the undead.
From behind me I heard a soft mumbling sound. It was Michelle. When she finally spoke up loud enough to be heard, what she said probably saved our lives.
“Underground. Sewer.” Michelle was pointing to the street below our feet.
I could have kissed the girl. But instead I ran over to a sewer grate and tugged with all of my might. Gunther ran to assist me and, between the two of us, we managed to get the grate up. The smell that billowed up from below nearly made me lose what little contents my stomach had.
“I can’t go down there Gunther,” I looked to the man, feeling my face turning green. And no sooner had the words left my mouth than did a tyrannosaurus-like roar spill out over the area. With that sound ringing in my ears, I slid down into the sewers beneath Paris.
I didn’t have to ask what the smell was. I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that smell was –
“Shit!” Gunther exclaimed.
Michelle took the lead, assuring us the pipe we were in would lead directly to the hospital.
“The pipes are laid out in a grid system that covers the entire city. You could travel from anywhere to anywhere down here.”
“So long as you can tolerate the smell,” I grumbled as we marched on.
“I’m sorry, Bethany, I didn’t know.” Michelle’s voice was almost ashamed.
“No, no, I’m the one that should apologize. Thank you Michelle.”
“Why do you apologize? I should be the one thanking you. I wouldn’t have made it out of that building alive had it not been for you and Gunther.” Our companion’s shaky voice was filled with absolute honesty.
There was something about the situation tickling the back of my mind. It wasn’t until Michelle mentioned not being able to make it out alive that I finally realized what, exactly, it was.
“Michelle, when we spoke on the phone you said the building was filled with zombies. When we arrived, there were only three. What happened?”
Her answer was disconcerting. All she could say was that something drove them away. Gunther chimed in with the assumption it was the noise of the Obliterator, but Michelle put the kibosh on the possibility when she said they were driven away before we had arrived with our little noise maker. Something had driven the zombies away. This scenario didn’t make any sense. The only thing we have seen drive the fear of finality into an undead horde was the Obliterator. There had to be something else, something more to what went on.
“Here is the exit we need.” Michelle had stopped and was pointing up.
Gunther hefted himself up a small ladder to take a peek out through the grate.
“There are too many of them on the street. We need another way.” The German’s accent seemed to be thicker than usual.
Michelle took off again, indicating there was an exit from the sewer on the other side. All we had to do was walk around the underground block and check out the other side.
“How many were out there Gunther?” I had to ask.
“You don’t want to know,” he had to answer.
Everything seemed to be getting worse. It was as if the undead had realized they now enjoyed the majority vote on the planet and they wanted the remaining population to know it was only a matter of time before all of humanity met the same fate
We made it to the other side of the hospital and Gunther did his thing, only this time he looked back down and waved us up with an ‘All clear’. We hopped out of the sewer and took off for the building.
“The back entrance! I see it!” Gunther called out and took off at a full-blown limpy-sprint. He arrived at the door long before either Michelle or I and quickly discovered the door locked.
The answer to this dilemma was simple. I pulled out my phone and dialed Jean’s number. Luck was on our side and he answered quickly. I described to him where the exit was and told him things were grim, and to hurry.
When the phone went silent, chaos broke out around us. Screamers, it seemed, were everywhere. Crashing, screaming…every sound associated with danger could be heard. Before Jean had a chance to arrive, a screamer leaped out from the cover of a nearby clump of foliage and ran full-bore in our direction.
Without missing a beat, Gunther pulled out his pistol, aimed and –
Click
“Oh shit, I’m out of ammunition. Bethany!”
I knew precisely what Gunther wanted. I swung the Obliterator up and cranked up the noise. The screamer had been mere feet from us when the sound smashed his ear drums. Instantly the thing fell to its knees and began the usual routine, only this time the beast succeeded in cracking open its skull and, to our shock, reached in and grabbed a finger-full of its own brain. The zombie managed to consume two heaping scoops of its own gray matter before it dropped, motionless, to the ground.
Thankfully, before another of the undead minions could detect our presence, Jean was at the door rescuing us from our own personal Hell on Earth.
When we made it back to Susan’s room, and the numbness and shock of what had happened eased away, Michelle broke down. The loss of Mikka hit her hard. There was still no complete clarity on their relationship but, suffice it to say, they were very close. And Michelle was seriously losing it. We all gathered around her in an attempt to comfort the girl, but nothing was working. This was a wound that need the healing power of time. My heart ached for her.
As everyone took their turn comforting Michelle, I had to plan some form of strategy to get food to our table. It had been far too long since we all had a meal and that fact was
wearing on us. We were growing weaker and weaker by the day. I had been counting on Michelle and Mikka to bring back enough to get us through the next few days. Our stash was dangerously close to being depleted, but now our tragedy had grown exponentially worse. There was no way we could avoid a collision with the horror outside. Our only hope was having Michelle lead us around the sewer system to the nearest supply of sustenance.
Scanning the room, my eyes fixed on Zander. He was obviously lost in some deep distraction, as he didn’t even notice me staring. A thought popped into my head…a thought gift-wrapped in paranoia. Zander was here before us, so he must have been the one to empty the cupboards of the various kitchens and vendors in the hospital. That being the case, he certainly could not have gone through the entire cache of the food by himself. And, should that prove to be the case, why has he held that secret so close to his chest?
Zander finally caught me staring and offered a smile that hadn’t a single iota of innocence about it. When I didn’t return the false pretense, his brow furrowed and his head tilted. It was then that I made my move.
I pulled up a chair and sat close enough so Zander and I could exchange words in some semblance of privacy.
“You have food,” I said, cutting to the chase as quickly as I could. I knew my question caught him off guard, and his exaggerated pause gave him up for guilty.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” His words seeped through a smile forged in pure guilt.
“Don’t play games with me. Our lives are in danger. I know you’re hiding something and if you don’t come clean I’ll make my suspicion public domain.” It was all pretense. The very act of me writing down and recording these conversations made them public. Zander did not have to know that little bit of truth.
“What do you want?” The guilt finally crept into Zander’s voice and forced an indirect confession.