Containment_A Zombie Novel

by B. A. Hippsley

  ****

  The kids were hopelessly lost. They’d left the track and had run blindly into the woods putting as much distance between themselves and their attackers. They’d been on the move for hours, every noise or movement in the woods spurring them on further and further into the unknown. They’d no idea who the people were but they knew that not even crazy people acted like those things.

  Now the gang found themselves at the bottom of a steep ravine. Dense trees blocked out the moonlight, reducing their vision still further. Marv looked at the others. Over the last few hours, by some kind of unwelcome twist they’d come to regard him as the leader. It was a case of the blind leading the blind; he’d no more idea than them.

  He wished he’d listened to his Grandpa more about tales from ’Nam but, back then, they’d just sounded too way out. Like some kind of war comic. He remembered it hadn’t been until the funeral and seeing that general with Grandpa’s Silver Star, that Marv had realised that the stories had been true. If only he was with him right now.

  He still couldn’t get Ruby out of his mind, her screams and the blood. If he’d been faster or there hadn’t been so many of those things...The fact was, she’d been killed; there was no way she could’ve survived that fall. Then he flushed with anger at the thought of that punk, Firth, bugging out.

  He was brought out of his thoughts as Jenha let out a pitiful gasp. She was getting worse. He could see by the light of Britney’s cell phone that the bite area was an ugly dark colour. She also had a high fever. God knows what had been wrong with those things; maybe they had rabies or something.

  “Okay Marv,” said Tony, “what do we do now? I mean you know, right?”

  “Marv, we got to get her to hospital,” pleaded Britney.

  “Look, I…Well…” Marv was lost for words and at a loss as to what to do.

  “Conrad did this to me,” sobbed Jenha, “it’s his fault.”

  “Aw, it’s the fever,” said Tony. “She’s talking bull.”

  “No, no she’s not, he pushed her,” said Britney. “I seen him.”

  “That ain’t so; he wouldn’t do that, not Conrad.”

  “Yeah he did. He pushed her at that thing, just so as he could save his rotten skin and then he took off!” Marv concluded.

  It was all too much for Tony who burst into floods of tears. Marv watched as the other two sat and shivered. He had to come up with something or they’d end up the same as Ruby.

  “Look, it’ll be light in a few hours then we can see where the hell we’re at. We don’t have any choice; we gotta go back the way we just come. We gotta find that track.”

  ****

  Stallone was barking again. Al Paxmore cursed the dog, flicked on the bedroom light and got out of bed. His wife Jill looked on as he tried to find his slippers in the small bedroom. She watched, trying not to laugh as her husband struggled, cursing, to find them. It was unlike Stallone to create such a ruckus, she thought.

  “Al, didn’t you say that a dog always got a reason for barking?”

  “This is the third time tonight, damn mutt. We gotta get up in four hours!” he yelled. He was far from happy.

  “Well, just get him in, no need to fuss so,” reprimanded Jill.

  Al walked the short distance down the hall to the solid wooden front door. She watched as he unlocked the door, lifted the heavy latch and called the dog. The chill night air made her draw the duvet to her chin. Stallone came bounding in, ears flat against his head, eyes wide like dinner plates and tail tucked between his legs. The dog hid behind Al, shaking with fear. Something was wrong, very wrong.

  “What’s up with him, Al? He’s all weirded out,” called Jill from the hall doorway.

  “Aw, it’s just some old coyote,” said Al, closing and bolting the door.

  “Well ain’t you gonna look?”

  “Nope, the only place I’m going is back to bed.”

  Al walked past her and headed for the bedroom and climbed back into bed, pulling the duvet over his head. As she got into bed next to him, she thought he should really take a look. But they did have an early start, so perhaps it was best to leave it. She reached over and switched the light off. Jill lay back and listened to Al fidgeting about but he’d soon be asleep. She shut her eyes knowing it would take her ages to drift off.

  They both worked in the town; she was a nurse at the health center and Al worked in the grocery store. She’d always wanted to be a nurse; even as a little girl she’d liked to help people. After college, she’d taken her nursing exams and landed the job at Sunnyvale Rest Home. But then, about four years back, the health center had opened and she’d worked there ever since. She and Al had been married ten years next week. They’d had more good times than bad, but the bad times had been pretty bad.

  Like a whole lot of others, Al had lost his job when the sawmill shut. It had devastated him. He’d started drinking, then shortly after, he’d become suicidal. It had been tough to keep it together. Al was better now since he’d taken the job at the store. It had given him a new lease of life. Although Armstrong was hardly a Metropolis, it was way too busy for them. That’s when they decided to buy the Reynold’s although, strictly speaking, it wasn’t really a farm; they had open space and lots of land.

  They’d made some money on their town house, but even though Al had done most of the work himself, putting the place right had left them with hardly anything. Four miles outside town, they had to commute to work every day but it was worth it. They both enjoyed the peace of the country; it was the perfect retreat. Jill liked to paint and Al was at his best woodworking – who needed TV?

  The blackout had really worried a lot of people but up here on the farm, they’d hardly noticed. Elle-May had asked all the staff to be ready for any situations and Gerard Benteen had made sure that all her girls got a CB radio. Jill’s PA had used one years back, in fact, most folk had used them in the days before cell phones came along. She and Al had brought the CB home but they’d soon had enough of hearing all the other people jabbering on. Now it was silent in the other room. Jill turned onto her side, yawned, and wondered what the next day would bring.

  Stallone was still agitated and now she could hear him whimpering; there was something bothering him. Suddenly, he started to howl. What was it Al had said about dogs always having a reason for barking? As far as she could recall when a dog howled like that, it meant death.

  Chapter - Seven

  For a change, Eastman was glad to hear his alarm sounding its wake up call. He sat up in bed and swung his legs onto the wooden floor. He massaged the side of his head with his fingertips and sighed. He’d spent one of the worst nights he could recall, tossing and turning. But it was the nightmare that had affected him the most. It seemed to go on and on, all damn night. It was the kind he got after Helen’s funeral, only worse.

  Night-time terrors were supposed to vanish with the light – that was the rule his mom used to tell him. He could still see the confused images in his head: Armstrong, blood on the streets and people screaming. The town full of vague, shadowy figures, just out of focus. There seemed to be a battle going on, he just couldn’t make out with whom. He told himself it was just his mind dealing with the stress of the past day, but in all honesty, it had disturbed the hell out of him.

  He stood up, stretched wearily and walked out of the bedroom towards the living room, the early light revealing the remains of last night’s supper. Pouring himself a large glass of chilled water, Eastman looked at the telephone on the unit in front of him, almost willing it to ring. His one consolation was that the situation in the town couldn’t have got any worse; otherwise Clara would’ve called him. He reached over and picked up the landline. Dead. The TV and his cell phone too. Whatever was happening, things weren’t finished yet.

  ****

  It had been light for several hours and though the sun was still low in the sky, the kids knew it would start to heat up very soon. In the grey light of dawn, they’d managed to find a path leadi
ng up from the woods. They were sitting now on a rough vehicle track, a vast landscape spread out before them. Recent tyre prints told them the track was in use; at least there was a chance that somebody would find them. Britney suddenly stood up and pointed down the track.

  “Guys, it’s a car. Look!”

  A large black four-by-four stopped a short distance from them, its engine still running. It was impossible to make out who was in the vehicle through the tinted glass.

  “Oh, guys we’re safe!” shouted Tony, standing and shaking Marv’s arm.

  Marv grinned in relief at his friends, then approached the vehicle. “Hey, can you help us please? We’ve been attacked!”

  As he got closer, the vehicle revved its engine and then, without any warning, drove straight at him. Marv narrowly escaped being hit as the Jeep raced past, throwing up stones and dust as it sped by. The kids hurled abuse at the jeep as it disappeared into the distance.

  “Where’s he going?” Tony shouted in disbelief.

  Marv looked at Jenha, she was no better. Beads of sweat ran down her pale drawn out face. He was powerless to help her, or was he? There was something Grandpa had said about getting lost in the hills. If he could just remember what it was…?

  “I know where we are,” announced Marv. “That, over there,” he pointed to a small creek, “is the start of Dawson’s Pool. That’s gonna take me right back to town.”

  “Oh yeah, and how do you know that?” Tony said.

  “Something Grandpa used to say. If you ever get lost in the mountains you gotta find a stream and follow it down, sooner or later you gonna get to a town. That’s the way people build towns, because the water runs down to them.”

  “What you mean, you’re gonna follow the creek?” Britney inquired a hint of concern in her tone.

  “I said I knew where we were. We’re not far from O’Brien’s Ridge. Now, there’s a whole mess of farm tracks around here. Somebody’s gotta come along here on the way to Armstrong. They just gotta.”

  “Like hello! What you mean, you’re gonna follow the creek?”

  “Look Britney, Jenha’s never going to make the journey. You two stay with her and get a lift. I’m gonna try for the town. It’s the only way.”

  None of them liked the idea but they all agreed it was the only option left. With a backward wave Marv set off. It would work out just as long as he didn’t run into any more of those things.

  ****

  Eastman was sitting in his office leafing through the day’s orders. The blackout, much to his dismay, was still ongoing. On the plus side however, the town had spent the most peaceful night he could recall. So far this morning people were getting on with everyday life. Then his intercom crackled into life. It was Clara.

  “Sheriff, I just got a call from Ben Burke. Erin’s been attacked by some vagrant. And Brad, Ben’s shot him.”

  “Shot him?”

  “He killed him, Brad.”

  This was all he needed first thing in the morning, another death. But right now he was just concerned for the old couple’s safety. “Clara, they all right?”

  “Ben said the creep bit her on the hand, otherwise she’s alright, I guess.”

  “Tell Ben I’ll be right there. Clara, get hold of Gerard and let him know what’s about.”

  “Sure thing Brad.”

  Whatever happened, he needed to get to the Burke place. As he picked his hat off the table and made toward the door, he wondered if this biting attack was connected to the events at Hinckle Point.

  ****

  Bill Merka was worried. It was very unusual for Jimmy to miss a chance for stargazing. When Merka had asked him a few days ago, Jimmy had been thrilled at the opportunity of watching the meteorites from the tower. It would have taken a lot for him to miss that. Though with all that was going down, anything could have happened. Jimmy lived on his own, so even if the phones had been okay, they’d still have had to wait until he turned up; there was no one to give him the message.

  Merka was standing outside the observation room, using his powerful binoculars to scan the region. The one hundred foot high circular tower afforded full visibility in every direction. The concrete and steel structure stuck out like a sore thumb in the idyllic setting. Even on such a warm day as this, the wind caused him to shut his eyes.

  He loved the outdoor life but there was other work to get done. He shook his head, opened the door and went back inside. The observation room was surrounded by glass panels where people could sit and view the vast expanse. Jimmy called it ‘the fishbowl’ and Merka thought that a fair description. He sat back in his swivel chair and slowly spun himself round until something caught his eye.

  High up, on a ridge overlooking one of the small lakes, were the Clayton brothers. Their unmistakable orange truck had stopped at the summit. After a short time they drove away out of sight. He’d have liked to have known what they were up to but whatever it was, he was sure it was no good. Merka thoughtfully drummed his fingertips on his chin and went back to his logbook.

  ****

  Eastman stood looking at the body on the floor by Ben Burke’s chicken shack. The shotgun blast had obliterated the head, leaving only the lower part of the jaw and neck intact. The condition of the hands, and the general stink, told him immediately this body was the same as the ones at Hinckle Point. This one was wearing some type of tattered lab-coat and lanyard. Despite being covered in Lord-knows-what, he could just make out the word ‘Medi-Tek’ printed on it.

  There were also two bullet holes in the chest, which he was positive Ben hadn’t put there because these were 9mm pistol rounds and they’d been there for some time. Ben only used a shotgun. Eastman scratched the tip of his nose, breathed a deep sigh and went back into the house.

  Both Erin and Ben were shaken, that was plain to see. Ben had bandaged the injury to his wife’s left hand. On the mantelpiece just behind her, Eastman spotted an old wedding photo; they’d been married a long time. This was no social call. The old folks explained what had happened and it sounded like a clear-cut case of self-defence. Ben was no murderer, but Eastman had to follow the law – Ben had shot and killed somebody.

  “Ben, the ambulance is coming for Mrs Burke. She’s gonna need that hand checked and I have to take you down town.”

  “Now wait one darn minute there Bradley Eastman, you’re not taking my Ben no place, y’hear me?”

  “Now Ma,” began Ben, “It’s only right…”

  “Ben done shot that varmint, ’cause he just kept a coming! He wouldn’t hear no sense! What’s a man to do, ’cept protect his kin? Shame on you Bradley Eastman!”

  “I know it was self-defence Mrs Burke, believe me I know. But Ben killed a man. I gotta take him in.”

  “Don’t go on so woman, I ain’t no killer, Sheriff ain’t saying that. It got to be done legal. Ain’t that so Sheriff?”

  “I’m not charging him with anything but I gotta arrest him, that’s the law.”

  Eastman did not like the situation one bit but that was how it was. He walked to the front door as he heard vehicles on the track. Looking out from the door, he could see two squad cars and an ambulance heading towards the house, kicking up clouds of dust and he walked onto the porch to greet them.

  ****

  Robert Pool clutched the bunch of fresh flowers to his chest as he made his way down Corman Street. Today was his son’s birthday and he was headed for the cemetery. He’d had to get the flowers from Wal-Mart. After that last time, Mrs Kronberg had banned him from her shop. Still, at least he’d used her vase, not the floor. Getting cut short was a hell of a bad thing. Wal-Mart was about the only place he could still get served, but even they had standards.

  When he visited the grave, he always made a special effort to clean up and stay off the booze. Sobriety was not a condition he liked. His normal world was safe and fuzzy and viewed through the bottom of a shot glass. He was used to being ignored, folks crossing to the other side of the road, averting their gaze or just blank
ing him. All that came with being ‘the town drunk’, but things were different today. People were oblivious to each other, let alone him. It had been the same in Wal-Mart; everybody had been dashing about, frantically clearing the shelves.

  He couldn’t remember when this blackout thing had started and to be honest he wasn’t interested. However, he was now aware of a new feel to the town. Panic! Not the type where people were running about screaming – this went deeper. This was the type of fear where neighbour killed neighbour, just for gas.

  On the sidewalk just in front of him, was the burly figure of Sarge in combat fatigues. He was between two guys, reading them the riot act. Whatever their beef with each other had been, it wasn’t worth riling up Sarge. He was one of Eastman’s posse of helpers and he looked like he was having a ball. Sarge had left the army but the army hadn’t left Sarge. When Pool looked at him, it was a painful reminder of his son.

  Robert Pool Junior had been killed just two days after his twenty-second birthday, in the last stages of the war. When they brought him home, Pool had wanted to see his boy right away. The Sergeant at the base said the body had been classified as ‘non-viewable’. It took a week before they released the body and then the casket had been closed. Around then, reality had taken a back seat and the bottle took over. It was the only way he’d got through the last two years. The bottle was his best and only friend. It never judged him and was always there when he needed it.

  As he crossed the corner of Reno and Norton, he noticed that some of the buildings now had shutters up and cinder-block walls had replaced some of the picket fences. This was siege mentality and it reminded him of the race riots some years back in the big cities. Even Joe Lester had put a metal fence on his lawn. Pool had heard some guys talking about a bunch of stuff that had happened over the last few days. Shootings, murders and other things – none of it sounded good.