Infected Chaos

by Loren Edwards

  Cliff’s eyebrows narrowed. The older man stumbled but didn’t fall. He couldn’t believe the man was unfazed, he squeezed the trigger again, striking the old man in the shoulder. Mr. Cline twisted from the impact and continued his approach.

  Cliff cocked the hammer a third time. He took aim with intent concentration, spied the front sight post on the man’s face, and fired. The third bullet struck Mr. Cline in the cheek, snapping his head back. The walking corpse fell forward to the ground. Cliff let out a long breath and hunched his shoulders forward.

  He turned to his children. Cassidy was holding Jonathan’s head to her shoulder as he cried. She had a calm but concerned look on her face.

  Cliff holstered the pistol in his waistband and walked to Cassidy and Jonathan. He held them tight, as if that would be his last chance to embrace them. They had faced the infection for the first time, and they were all safe, but Cliff knew more were to follow. He told himself he had to be more cautious with the children. He bit his lower lip, knowing it was only the beginning and soon to get worse.

  Cliff returned to the house with Cassidy and Jonathan in hand after he finished wiring the solar panels and dragged Mr. Cline’s body into the woods away from view. He made a mental note to bury the body as soon as Jennifer returned.

  Jonathan remained quiet during the final install; he only asked if there were more of those around. Cliff didn’t lie; he believed the child should know the truth and dangers the new reality held. He told them they had to be alert at all times. He told them the infected people were not in their right minds. They lost their ability to control themselves. The infected people were not the same person they once knew.

  “They’re dead,” Cassidy blurted after Jonathan asked if the old man was already dead but walking.

  Cliff couldn’t argue. “It may not be that simple, honey.”

  “They’re dead! Didn’t you see that in Mr. Cline? His eyes, his skin, and color? He was a walking corpse!” Cassidy cried out.

  Jonathan’s eyes filled with tears and looked up at Cliff, “Is that true, Daddy?”

  Cliff sucked on his lip looking at Jonathan. He hated the fact his son wouldn’t have an innocent childhood. He would grow up in a world of death and chaos now. “I’m afraid so, my son.” He knelt down and looked his son in the eyes, “Our entire world has changed. These people are sick. The thing that makes them sick kills them and takes over their bodies. They aren’t the same person. I’m sorry you have to see all this. You should be playing with your friends, not looking over your shoulder. But, as long as I’m here, I won’t let any of them come near you.”

  Jonathan wrapped his arms around Cliff’s neck and squeezed.

  “Let’s get inside. Are you guys hungry?” Cliff smiled.

  They nodded their heads with a smile.

  Cliff readied lunch for the kids and sat them down to tell them about the new world. The new reality they lived in. The ways of the old world were gone. Cassidy comprehended what he was saying; he would have to spend more time with Jonathan.

  “Are we going to die, Dad?” Jonathan asked, almost crying.

  Cliff patted Jonathan on his shoulder and leaned in. “No, son. I won’t let that happen.”

  “Where’s Mommy?” Jonathan asked, looking at his plate. He hadn’t touched his meal.

  Cliff looked at the ceiling and let out a sigh. “She had to go check on Grandma and Grandpa. She’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about her,” he lied.

  He left the children at the table. The food supply had to last, but he let the children eat. He couldn’t say how long they might have to stay on the farm. The interaction with Mr. Cline showed him the reality of how bad the world had become. He couldn’t imagine being in town with hundreds of infected roaming around. He walked to the living room to collect his thoughts while the world outside collapsed.

  Cliff was looking out the window, hoping to see Jennifer drive up when a figure in the distance caught his eye. He stepped closer to the window and brushed the curtain to the side; it was a man walking on the road. Cliff watched as the stranger turned onto his driveway. He wasn’t stumbling or wobbly in his stride. Cliff rubbed his chin, wondering who it was.

  “Get to the bedroom,” Cliff instructed the children in a calm voice.

  Cassidy didn’t waste a second; she took Jonathan’s hand and ran.

  Cliff stepped outside and walked to the driveway with the pistol in his hand. He focused on the stranger, trying to get a glimpse of his face. The man was wearing a flat-brimmed, black hat and looking at his feet. He couldn’t tell who it was, but he knew they weren’t infected.

  “Who are you?” Cliff shouted.

  The stranger looked up, exposing his green eyes.

  “Stop right there, Galvin,” Cliff commanded.

  He stopped.

  “What’s this about? Are you infected?”

  Galvin shook his head. “No.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I’d see how you guys are. My mom and I have been held up in the house since the outbreak hit. I heard gunshots a while ago and thought I’d check on you guys,” Galvin answered.

  Cliff took note of Galvin. He was a grown man, but his demeanor was soft and shy. Cliff guessed he was in his early thirties. Last he heard was Galvin was in prison for having under age pornography on his computer, but Cliff didn’t know much else about him. Cliff thought back and realized this was the first time he had a conversation with the soft-spoken ex-convict. All Cliff knew was what he read in the local newspaper. It portrayed him to be a predator. Everyone in town said he was some pervert and stayed away from him.

  “We’re fine, Galvin,” he answered. Cliff didn’t feel safe with Galvin there. He had no way of knowing if Galvin was telling the truth or just being nosey. “How’s your momma?”

  “She’s okay. She’s been telling me how bad it is out there, and I should see how her neighbors are. She asked about your parents.” Galvin said looking down at his feet.

  Cliff glanced past Galvin, collecting his thoughts. He didn’t want to think about his parents. He knew if the virus reached Whittaker, it would be worse in bigger cities. There was no way they could have survived Miami, Florida without being infected. He could only imagine the magnitude of the chaos in the larger cities.

  “I don’t know,” his voice trailing off.

  “Well,” Galvin began, “I’ll let my mom know. She’ll be troubled to hear about your mom and dad. I’ll let you guys get back to fishing. I hope you catch—”

  “Who’s that?” Cliff interrupted, looking past Galvin.

  Galvin turned around and saw a person walking toward them. They were infected.

  “Go!” Galvin yelled. “Get back inside. I’ll deal with him.”

  Cliff’s forehead creased.

  “Go!” Galvin yelled over his shoulder as he sped off toward the road.

  “Galvin, no! Don’t put yourself in harm’s way!” Cliff pleaded.

  Galvin ran toward the creature, ignoring Cliff’s plea. The infected creature looked like it was biting its own ear as it walked. The creature growled and sprinted when it saw Galvin.

  “Galvin! Get away!” Cliff pleaded as he ran after him.

  Galvin stopped and stood his ground. He watched the infected stranger run at him and steadied his breathing as best he could as the infected creature grew near. Galvin knew he had to remain calm and calculate his response with precision. This was the third infected person he had confronted since yesterday. He fought one the night before that had wandered onto the back porch. The creature was licking and snapping its jaws at the window until he shoved a broken broom handle through its eye socket.

  The sprinting, undead creature hissed and screamed as he approached. Galvin reached down and picked up a palm-sized stone road. With half a second to spare, Galvin stepped to the side and tripped the creature. The stranger fell to the ground, sliding on his face and chest across the gravel. Galvin stepped calmly toward the stranger and stood
over him.

  Cliff slid to a stop and watched in astonishment as Galvin slammed a rock over the back of the man’s head three times. The creature’s body convulsed, then relaxed after the third strike.

  “That was impressive.”

  Galvin shrugged. “He was infected,” he replied in a soft voice.

  Cliff took note of how Galvin appeared to be unnerved from his encounter. “How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “I mean,” Cliff clarified, “how did you know what to do?”

  Galvin threw the palm-sized rock to the ground and wiped his hands. “Five years in prison, you kinda learn how to protect yourself and use any object as a weapon,” Galvin replied, as if his action was anything but heroic.

  “Yeah, I guess you have to in prison.” Cliff chuckled and patted Galvin on the shoulder.

  “I stabbed one last night with a broom handle,” Galvin smiled.

  “Mr. Cline stopped by today for a visit. He was our first.”

  “The young infected creatures are agile and quick. The elderly, like Mr. Cline, aren’t as agile. You were lucky he wasn’t quick like this one.”

  Cliff kicked the infected dead stranger onto its back. He was just like the rest: same sunken eyes and pale skin. Cliff didn’t recognize the man; neither did Galvin. The man was wearing a business suit.

  “Wonder where he came from?” Galvin wondered.

  “Son of a gun!” Cliff exclaimed, rubbing his hand across his brow.

  Galvin gave Cliff a look.

  “He’s not from around here. I bet he was driving to the city when the virus hit. He came from the highway.”

  Galvin raised an eyebrow. “Eight miles away? Geez!”

  Cliff stood with his hands on his hips, scanning the road. “If they can make it eight miles, they can make it anywhere. I’m scared to think no place is safe.” Cliff bit his lip. “I think we’re going to see a lot more in the coming weeks.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jennifer returned to the Land Rover, intending to drive back to the farmhouse. She wiped a strand of hair from her face and let out a long breath. Her hands started to tremble. The reality of the how close she came to death sank in. She felt a tear slide down her left cheek, wiped it away, and reminded herself to stay strong. She opened the rear passenger door and took a seat. She was exhausted from her struggle with Brian. She fell back in the seat and placed her hands over her face and cried.

  After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and wiped her face. She wished she was just dreaming and would wake soon to end the nightmare. She wanted a stiff drink to calm her nerves.

  Jennifer let out a long breath and stretched her aching muscles. She realized she needed to keep going if she wanted to get back to the kids. Stepping from the Defender, she took a last look at the gym bag on the floorboard and closed the passenger door. Jennifer’s eyes widened when she saw Sarah Brant, the lady who lived next door, standing inches from her.

  In the blink of an eye, Jennifer found herself on the ground with Sarah on top of her. She felt the air in her lungs being forced out when Sarah’s weight crushed against her chest. Sarah snapped her jaws inches from Jennifer’s nose. She used her forearm to push back against the heavyset neighbor. Her weight was almost too much. She pushed, crying as she fought against Sarah’s weight. Her muscles began to protest in pain. She turned her head as a pool of saliva poured from Sarah’s lips. Jennifer wanted to vomit.

  “Please! Please!” Jennifer cried. Her eyes began to fill with tears. Her vision grew blurry. She felt her strength dwindle with each passing second. She fought to ignore the burning pain in her arms, trying to keep Sarah’s snapping jaws from latching onto her face. Jonathan and Cassidy flashed across Jennifer’s eyes and filled her thoughts. She felt she was going to die, and her children wouldn’t know what happened to their mother. “Please!” she cried. This is it, she thought. I am going to die.

  Jennifer’s vision narrowed. Blackness inched closer with each passing second. She prayed under her breath as darkness engulfed her world.

  A loud thud rang out in Jennifer’s ears. The weight across her arms fell away. She didn’t understand. Her arms fell to her side; the pain returned, reminding her she was still alive. She felt her body collapse in exhaustion.

  A silhouetted figure stood over her. “You all right?” an accented voice asked.

  Jennifer swung her arms at the silhouette, screaming for them to leave her alone.

  “Whoa! Whoa, Miss!” the voice pleaded. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m not here to hurt you!”

  It took a few seconds for the voice to sink into Jennifer’s mind. She rubbed her eyes as her vision returned. She blinked a few times to see a man with a shovel standing over her. She rolled her head over to see Sarah lying motionless. She was dead.

  “What … what happened?” Jennifer asked, holding her head as she sat up.

  She studied the stranger. He was an older man; Jennifer guessed he was in his late fifties. He had deep-opal eyes, salty black hair, and a welcoming smile. Jennifer thought he had a face that would greet you at a department store.

  “Jake Sloan is my name, Miss.” The stranger stuck his hand out.

  Jennifer reached for his hand and used it to lift herself to her feet.

  “Uh, Jennifer.” She hesitated, collecting her thoughts. “Jennifer Daniels.”

  She paused and pointed. “Were you the one flailing his arms at me when I pulled onto the street?”

  “Yeah, that was me. I was trying to warn you about her.” Jake pointed at Sarah. “I saw more walk this way just twenty minutes before I saw you.”

  Jennifer looked down at Sarah, then back to Jake.

  Jennifer studied her savior. He was wearing a loose, blue-buttoned shirt. She could tell he was not the typical Whittaker resident. “You’re not from around here, are ya? I hear an accent.”

  Jake smiled. “I’m originally from Great Britain, but I’ve lived in the US for twenty years.”

  Jennifer returned the friendly gesture as she tried to regain her balance.

  “By the way, what are you doing here, Jennifer? Do you live here?”

  Jennifer chuckled, “No, this is my …” she paused, “ex-boyfriend’s place, but I used to stay here every now and then.”

  Jennifer took a few deep breaths and leaned against the Defender. The struggle with Sarah had exhausted her. She didn’t think she had the strength to stand and rubbed her muscles, trying to soothe her aches.

  “I need to get back,” Jennifer blurted, trying to stand.

  “I think you need to rest a little more before you jump behind the wheel,” Jake suggested.

  Jennifer enjoyed his accent. She had always liked the English accent. It sounded intelligent in her opinion. “I’m okay. I need to grab some things from the car and drive the Land Rover back.”

  “Let me help you,” Jake offered.

  He followed Jennifer to the trunk of the Corsica. She opened the lid and he grabbed the two, empty gas cans, carried them to the Defender, and slid the cans into the rear cargo area.

  Jennifer closed the rear doors of the Defender and turned to Jake. “There’s a shotgun in the front seat, but I don’t have any shells for it. Can you grab it?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  “Thank you for your help. I don’t think I would be alive if it weren’t for you. I owe you.” She smiled.

  “It was nothing. I’m just glad I was near.”

  “Where did you say you lived?” Jennifer quizzed.

  “I didn’t.” Jake pointed down the street. “I was here visiting my mum. I live in the city.”

  “Mother?”

  Jake looked in the distance.

  “You know what? It’s okay. Where can I take you?” Jennifer offered.

  Jake was hesitant. He didn’t know how to respond. His mother became infected late that morning, and his car was rear-ended the night before.

  Jake threw up his hands. “I don’t have any place
now.”

  Jennifer walked to the driver’s seat of the Defender. “Jump in; you can come with me. Let’s get out of here, if you don’t mind.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cliff poured Galvin a hot cup of tea and took a seat across the table. He listened to Galvin’s story about being convicted, and his time in jail. He learned that Galvin’s mother was succumbing to a chronic illness and she rarely left the house. He was with his mother, watching the world burn on the television when he encountered his first infected person. They lost electricity the same time Cliff did and were taking inventory of their food supply when he heard Cliff’s gunshots.

  Cliff learned that the FBI had raided Galvin’s home shortly after he purchased a used computer from the local pawn shop. Galvin swore he never looked at or download such smut; he only bought the computer to play video games. He swore the filth was on the computer before he bought it. During the trial, the pawn shop owner testified he sold an erased computer. It was in his direst hour with no hope in sight that Galvin decided to take the plea deal. He was given five years; it would have been twenty-five if he hadn’t taken it. A year after Galvin was released, he learned an ex-employee of the pawn shop was convicted of the same charges in Texas. Gavin theorized it was the ex-employee who had used the computer before he bought it, and that he was the guilty party.

  Cliff watched Galvin’s body language intently as he told his story. He studied Galvin’s eyes, hands, shoulders, and how he sat in his chair. Cliff had many low-ranking soldiers try to swindle him with sad stories when he was a platoon sergeant. He learned to read people’s body language over the words they spoke. He felt confident Galvin was telling the truth.

  “So let me see if I got this straight,” Cliff began. “You bought a computer at a pawn shop. It had child porn on it. The FBI raided your house and charged you. You claim it was already on the computer when you bought it. Do I have that right?”

  Galvin nodded.

  “You claim an ex-employee used this computer, and he was later convicted in Texas of having the same kind of pornography, long after leaving the pawn shop?”