“Yeah, bastard bit me though. Really, who bites? We’re not children,” the nurse spat, scowling out the window at the man who was climbing slowly to his feet. The man’s skin was graying and his eyes looked milky. Chunks of flesh lodged in the corner of his mouth as blood ran down his chin and neck. For a minute, the man seemed disoriented to find himself standing outside the bus. Yet, when his eyes locked onto the woman seated on the stairs beyond the glass in front of him, he lunged at her. The action nearly took the door off the hinges. A long wail escaped the lips of the man as he vented his frustration.
“Get us out of here!” she screamed as she tried to brace the door with her feet.
The mammoth vehicle lurched forward at the speed of dark brown molasses. Jack watched the man nearly lose his balance as he passed outside his window and then stood in the middle of the highway with arms outstretched toward them as if, by sheer force of will, he could call the bus back.
The driver pulled the vehicle over to the side of the road once they were far enough away from the maniac. He and the nurse bandaged themselves with supplies from the first aid kit stored under the driver’s seat. Jack could still see the man meandering slowly toward them in the distance, but he eventually turned toward the parked cars in the westbound lane. From where Jack sat, he could see plenty of people milling around the area. Hope there’s a cop, he thought.
Davis slid out of his seat and went up front. “How are the two combat heroes doing?” he asked with a smile. “Are you hurt bad?”
“He took a good chunk out of us,” the driver said.
“Yeah, hitting the brake like that was a stroke of genius,” the nurse concluded.
“What about you, young man. You alright?” Davis asked the man who had fallen into the isle.
“Yeah, I busted my nose though and I can’t find my glasses,” he replied.
As Davis helped the boy with the knapsack find his glasses, Jack stepped closer to the back of the bus. Something was going on back down the highway. The man was moving among the crowd. People were running from him. He couldn’t see the details, but he was certain the man was trying to bite those he could get his hands on. It wasn’t until Jack saw the man’s body thrown backward by unseen force, followed a second later by the crackle of gunfire that it became apparent what had transpired. The biter would not be biting anymore.
“Was that a gun shot?” Davis asked.
“Yes, someone shot the poor fool in his brain pan,” Jack replied.
“Good,” the nurse said.
It was several minutes before the driver was able to get the bus moving again. The wounds the two had suffered were not light. The bandages soon soaked through. Jack offered to drive and was relieved when the driver declined. He wasn’t really sure if he could drive a normal automobile after so many years away from it, let alone climb behind the wheel of this behemoth.
The companions continued travelling east along what seemed to be a deserted stretch of highway — at least on the eastbound side — until they came to the first exit marked for Lexington. Halfway up the ramp the bus came to a stop in front of a police barricade. Jack followed the rest of the group to the front of the bus to look out the windshield. There were no officers or official personnel. It looked abandoned.
“What do you think?” The driver’s voice was weak.
“Maybe someone should go out and see what’s up,” the young man commented. When everyone looked at him he said, “Not me. I don’t care for the po-po.”
Jack followed the exit ramp with his eyes to the top of the hill where it met with a road. There was a stop light at the intersection and a small blue sign with a large “H” on it with an arrow pointing right. Off to the right, above the trees, he could see colorful signs advertising various restaurants, motels, and filling stations. His stomach growled at the thought of food. He’d had brunch with Davis and it was well past lunchtime.
“There’s a hospital somewhere to the right. I think we should get you two to see a doctor. You don’t look well.” When no one spoke right away, Jack nodded reluctantly toward the door and stepped out when it opened. The air was warm and humid compared to the air-conditioned interior of the bus. The concrete felt good under his feet again. It was nice to be anchored to something unmovable.
Around the front of the bus, blocking the exit ramp, were two police cars parked diagonally next to one another. Together they made a disjointed “V” in the street. Orange-striped barricades with small round flashing lights were strewn in front of the vehicles. Something wafting in the air smelled good and made his stomach growl.
“Anybody here!” Jack yelled. “Hello! Anybody here!”
He stepped through the barricade when there was no answer to his call. Both police cars were running. Their engines rumbling with what seemed like barely restrained power. Jack shivered despite the heat as he recalled the first and last time he’d been in one of those. It was thirty years ago.
“Hello!” Jack called again as he passed the front of the cars. The driver’s side door was wide open on the car to his left. He raised his chin to see further in the car without getting too close and dry washed his hands. A bang on the window behind him made him jump and he scowled at the smiling faces in the bus that urged him onward.
His heartbeat in his ears, Jack strode directly between the cars as if it was his purpose in life. To his relief, a police officer sat up in the car to his right. He was dressed in a black uniform, which made the chrome on his person stand out regally. There was something reassuring about an officer who presented a solid image of order when you were in need of help.
Jack offered a toothy smile and said, “Man, I’m glad to see you, officer. It seems we have a medical emergency and we could sure use an ambulance.”
The officer appeared not to hear him. He simply sat in his car staring straight ahead, as if lost in his own thoughts. Jack turned to face his companions and shrugged. The bus driver honked the horn. It was a long slow rumble that left no doubt that the source was a mammoth vehicle. It rattled the teeth if you were standing too close. When Jack turned back, the officer was climbing rather clumsily from his car. His eyes were set on his companions in the bus. His stare was so intense that Jack decided to wait and see what the problem was. Yet, there was something familiar about this particular officer. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
The nurse waved, her red blouse standing out in sharp contrast to the dark interior of the bus. The movement seemed to cause a reaction in the approaching officer. He began to advance on the bus with a determined fervor. When he extended his hand toward the door seeking entry, the driver pushed the folding door open. The police officer stepped on board after nearly tripping on the first step.
“Welcome aboard, officer,” Jack heard the bus driver say just as something brushed across the back of his neck. Swatting at it, he turned to find another police officer standing so close that he could smell the tobacco on his breath. His mouth was clamped down on the collar of Jack’s jacket. Then the officer’s arms encircled him in a grip that was nearly suffocating.
Screams came to him from inside the bus. He was unable to turn to see what was going on. The officer had opened his mouth releasing his jacket only to crane his neck in a fresh attempt to bite at Jack again. Twice the teeth clicked, so nearly biting him that he felt the brush of the man’s lips on his chin.
Jack twisted in the man’s vise-like grip so that he could brace his palm under the man’s chin and push his face away. He had to pay special attention to keep his fingers from the jaws of yet another crazy man. That’s it! The officer that stepped onto the bus behaved like the man who had been kicked off it earlier! They’re all suffering from some kind of violent psychosis, but what is the cause?
Jack brought his knee up into the groin of the officer with such force that the officer was lifted off the pavement nearly a foot. The maneuver had no effect on his assailant. He drove his fist into the officer’s stomach without result. Every blow he delivered mad
e no discernable effect on the man. Finally, he managed to pick the officer up so that the open door of the police car could be wedged between them. He then pulled back with all his might until he broke free of the man’s grip. The motion caused the officer to fall back into his car, where Jack managed close the door pinning him inside the vehicle.
Holding the door, Jack turned his attention to the bus. The front windshield was smeared with so much blood that it was nearly impossible to see what was going on inside. The screaming had stopped, but the bus still shook from the movement inside.
“Damn,” Jack swore. “What the hell’s the matter with you people? Davis, are you guys okay in there? Davis! Can you hear me?” The officer pinned in the car began to wail in frustration. It was the kind of sound you might hear from a psychologically deranged deaf person. There was too much nasal cavity and not enough diaphragm.
A thought occurred to Jack. If the man was so intent on harming him, why didn’t he use his pistol? Why try to bite? Looking through the window, he could see the pistol in the holster of the thrashing officer. The man’s hands struck at the window aimlessly smearing what appeared to be blood on the inside of the glass. There were any number of ways to escape the position Jack had forced on the man, but the man wasn’t thinking. He merely beat at the door like a child in a tantrum — couple that with a noticeable decline in motor skills and Jack had an epiphany.
He took a deep breath and stepped away from the vehicle several paces. The officer just managed to push the door open and climbed awkwardly to his feet. Lurching forward, he made a desperate lunge at Jack. Jack stepped under the man’s grasping hands and flicked the snap open on the holster. He stepped away. When the officer turned for a second try, Jack came away with the pistol, then the handcuffs and finally the pepper spray.
A swift kick to the side of the knee followed by a blow between the shoulder blades put the man face down on the pavement. Jack knelt on him to prevent him from rising as he secured the man’s groping hands behind his back and then tossed him back into the cruiser. The officer howled from inside the car.
Jack rushed to the bus and leapt up the steps. A grizzly scene lay before him. The police officer, the nurse, and the bus driver were hunkered over the dead body of the young man with the knapsack. Their faces were smeared with blood as they devoured the corpse one bite at a time. The wet sucking and burping noises turned his stomach. Bile rose in his throat at the sight. Yet, so intent were they on their kill that they hadn’t noticed the intruder on their smorgasbord.
Jack quickly scanned the interior for Davis. He was nowhere to be seen. Then a thought occurred to him. Walking down the steps, Jack turned and looked under the seats. In the very back of the bus, past several candy wrappers, was the old man. He was hunkered down on his hands and knees weeping silently. When he saw Jack, his eyes went wide and he mouthed the words, “Help me.” Jack nodded slightly and stood up.
The bus was an older model — only one accessible exit. Jack looked to the windows, but they were closed and it would steal precious time to open one. Then he looked at the pistol in his hands. Could he really use it? The last time he tried to protect himself, he’d killed a child and then her father. No. He would not use the gun. He stuffed it down the back of his trousers. Maybe he could get them to chase him off the bus so Davis could escape.
“Excuse me,” Jack said rather loudly. “Would any of you happen to know how to get from psycho-crazyville, where some people are eating other people, to let’s say somewhere less deranged like Charles Mansonville?”
Simultaneously, the three raised their dripping maws from the corpse to look Jack’s direction. Gas burped from the mangled corpse between them filling the air with a putrid smell that clearly announced that one of the diners had chewed open a bowel containing feces. It made Jack’s eyes water.
“Well, come on. Jack’s the dessert!” he yelled and waved his arms at them. Leaping into the fresh air outside the bus, Jack was relieved to see the three stagger to their feet and move slowly toward the front. “That’s right. Come and get it,” he continued to taunt.
Davis watched in amazement as Jack led the three shambling murderers back down towards the interstate. Their arms extended and fingers grasping as children might do toward a parent — a silent plea to be hugged. They stumbled along after Jack while he danced and skipped just outside their reach. Their wailing cries could probably be heard for a mile. His eyes fell on the boy’s remains and compassion etched his face with lines of sympathy. He just could not wrap his mind around it. Why had the driver and nurse joined the officer in killing the boy? One moment, they’re behaving fine, a little sick, but fine nonetheless. Then they both fell unconscious, only to awake moments later with a new outlook on life. It was as if they had been infected with a violent insanity.
Stepping out from behind the seat, Davis approached the corpse. One would never have looked at the pile of torn meat and thought it human. He placed his hand over his nose and swallowed, calming his gag reflex. He then knelt next to the still form. He regretted not asking the boy’s name. It occurred to him then that the boy probably had some form of identification. From beneath the mess, he managed to find a leather billfold. The boy’s name was Daniel Brooks. His friends probably called him Danny.
“Danny,” he said aloud in commemoration and then slid Danny’s license into his shirt pocket. He made the sign of the cross over himself and then over the remains. Weeping, he offered a silent but heartfelt prayer for the soul of the departed.
“Let’s go,” Jack said, breathing heavily. “They don’t move very fast, but let’s not make a hare’s mistake.”
Davis turned his tear-streaked face up at his friend. Jack, sweating profusely, wiped a hand over his face. Out the back window, Davis could see the three shambling people trudging back up the exit ramp. Jack had led them a couple of hundred feet away before sprinting back to the bus.
“They’re pretty easy to get around,” Jack said as the two climbed off the bus. “Just don’t let them get a hold of you.” He smiled weakly and nodded at the police officer locked in the backseat of his own cruiser when they walked past. The man was trying to chew the window without success. All he managed to do was tear pieces from his own lips on occasion as they got in the way of his teeth. Davis shook his head and looked the other way.
“I don’t understand,” Davis said, clearly distressed. “What’s wrong with these people? Is lunacy contagious and if it is, how do we know that we haven’t been infected?” The thought made him look at his hands. Danny’s blood covered them. He tried to wipe them on his jacket without much success.
“I don’t know,” Jack said, “but I think we need to get some answers. The question remains, where do we go from here?” A wailing moan escaped from the mouth of one of the shamblers behind them, reminding the two to pick up their pace.
CHAPTER FOUR
A t the intersection, the men turned right onto the highway following the hospital sign. There were few cars moving on the road and those they saw briefly in the distance were too far away. A quarter mile down the road, they came upon a small conclave of businesses. On the right side of the highway, a BP station was nestled next to a Denny’s and beyond that, a Convenient Store with gas pumps. McDonald’s arches could be seen behind a Big O Tires to the left. Further up on the same side of the road was a mini-mall.
“Hungry?” Jack asked, feeling his own stomach grumble.
“Sure,” Davis said and reached for his wallet. “Lunch is on me.”
Though they both shared a brief smile, they were still unsettled by the state of things around them. No traffic moved. There seemed to be no one about. Even as they walked through the lot of the BP heading for Denny’s, the station seemed abandoned. No cashier stood behind the counter chewing lazily on her gum. No customers filled their tanks at the pumps. It was like a ghost town. The only thing missing was tumbleweed, a slow drawling whistle, and the shake of a rattler’s tail.
Denny’s was no di
fferent. The parking lot was nearly vacant. The front doors were open and the vestibule was comfortably cool. Yet, when they entered the restaurant, there were no customers and no waitress came to seat them.
“Hello!” Jack said. “Anyone here?”
The restaurant was large. It was bigger than the chow hall he’d eaten in for more years than he cared to recount. Textured commercial carpeting covered the floor and contrasted nicely with the beige and white walls. Chandeliers and wall sconces matched by the tenor of the tabletops, gave the dining room a comfortable and pleasing atmosphere. A mingle of aromas battered his senses with their buttery, fried and fruity bouquet.
Davis walked over to the first table as Jack moved toward the double doors in the back. The table was laid out for customers who were not present. Food and beverages lay alongside napkins, silverware and condiments. The table was abandoned, but the food didn’t look too old. Davis looked out the window next to where he was standing. Their three blood-caked friends were still lurching in their direction. It wouldn’t be but a minute before they reached the front door of the restaurant.
Jack moved past the tables and the breakfast bar to the coffee dispensary. The coffee was still hot. Pouring himself a cup, he blew on the contents before slurping loudly at the beverage trying not to singe his tongue. It was good despite the fact that there was the slightest hint of it being too long in the pot.
The double doors that separated the dining area from the kitchen were wide with two portal-like windows centered in each door. Jack could tell that the kitchen was a wreck. It looked like a hurricane had blown through it without concern for vegetable, pot, or person. Coffee in one hand, he pushed the doors open with the other and immediately wished he hadn’t. A putrid smell inundated him like someone’s bad cologne. He could literally taste it in the air. It reminded him of the smell of stomach gasses that erupted from the belly of a deer his uncle Clarence had been cleaning several years before Jack’s arrest. It was enough to steal an appetite.
Dead World: Hero Page 3