“That’s right,” said Sergeant Anderson. “I only saw a couple of normal looking people, or they at least looked normal, meaning they didn’t have blood dripping down from their teeth. Whatever is happening for some reason or another it didn’t seem to happen to us.”
“I don’t want to know what’s happening,” said Jeffrey. “Not after looking at Daniels in there with his face gone. That made me sick as a dog. I don’t want to see shit like that.”
“Shut up boy,” said Sergeant Anderson. “Man up. This is some serious shit and we have to keep our heads together.”
“Well,” said Sampson. “I don’t think it’s a terrorist attack because there are no bombs or anything like that. If it was some kind of gassing or poisoning going on we would have been hit with it, too—”
“How do you know that?” Trooper Anderson looked at Sampson with a crossed look of pure wonder and sarcasm.
“I don’t know that for sure, but we do know that we are fine and those people out there are not. We’ve all been breathing the same air as they have.” Sampson pulled his cigarette pack from his shirt pocket. He looked at Sergeant Anderson for approval of smoking in the building. Sergeant Anderson shrugged his shoulders and put his hand out for one as well. They lit their cigarettes and Sampson continued. “We need to trace our steps back and figure out why those people are running around slaughtering each other and we’re not.” He took a long puff from this cigarette.
“What do you know Trooper?” asked Sampson.
“Just call me Jeffrey.”
“Jeffrey?”
“Well, like I told my uncle. One of our guys just went nuts all of a sudden and ran out of the locker room and straight into the dispatch room and took out Daniels. He probably would have gotten me if he knew I was in there. I don’t know why he did it. He just did. Then he ran out of the building naked as a jay bird.”
“That’s pretty much the same for me,” said Sergeant Anderson. “I was getting a cup of coffee, went to the john, came out and next thing I know I’m having to shoot people to keep them from tearing the Sheriff up anymore and to keep them off of myself as well.”
“Same here,” said Sampson. “Alright, maybe there was something they ate or drank that caused this to happen. What did you eat last night?” He looked at Jeffrey.
“Me? I couldn’t eat anything after watching all those people throw up all over the place last night. I was going to stop for breakfast this morning, but my stomach just couldn’t bare it. So I haven’t had anything since yesterday.”
“What about you, Sergeant?”
Sergeant Anderson looked at Jeffrey and then to Sampson. He took a long time to answer. “I had a bowl of cereal this morning...Got too busy back here with the reports and all from that crash the other night to eat anything else.”
“Fuck,” said Sampson. “I had a bag of potato chips I picked up from the gas station on my way back to the hotel room. I was going to stop for a burger, but they were closed when I drove by.”
“Do you think this has anything to do with those people at the drive-in last night,” said Jeffrey. Sampson and Sergeant Anderson looked at each other and then looked at Trooper Anderson. The thought hadn’t occurred to the three of them until just now that maybe the dead cows on the Miller farm and the mild food poisoning from the drive-in could somehow be connected. None of them had watched the news. If they had they would know for sure that the same thing was likely happening everywhere in the country and possibly the world. What happened at the drive-in was not an isolated event. The entire country had experienced similar problems in nearly every city. With all lines of communication down, there would be no way to be a hundred percent positive, but it didn’t take them long to make the correct assumption.
“Suppose it did,” said Sergeant Anderson. “What the hell do we do about it?” He pulled a glass ashtray out of his desk drawer and crushed out his cigarette.
“We can’t stay sitting here,” said Sampson. “We’ll be like sitting ducks. From the looks of it, those people haven’t turned on each other yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. So in the meantime, we’ll have to make an ass out of each other and assume they’ll be more looking for us.”
“Looking for fresh meat,” said Jeffrey. “That’s what you’re saying.” His hands were shaking as he leaned forward with them hanging between his knees. The sweat on his forehead dripped to the floor and began to pool in front of him.
“Sorry kiddo,” said Sampson, looking down at Jeffrey’s hands. “I’m afraid that’s how it is right now. Here,” he pulled a cigarette from the pack sitting on the desk. “You look like you need one, too.”
“I don’t smoke.” Trooper Anderson looked at the cigarette that Sampson continued to hold out in front of him. “But, now’s as good as any time to start.” The concern of getting cancer didn’t seem very important to Trooper Anderson now considering people were dying outside by having their faces chewed off and their guts ripped out. A cigarette certainly is harmless when compared with that kind of carnage. He grabbed the cigarette and with a little help from Sampson holding his lighter out, he got it lit and started puffing away. He coughed a couple of times, but smoking came naturally after that.
“Okay,” said Sergeant Anderson. “So we’re all agreeing that we can’t sit here or we’ll end up dead. So where do we go?”
“I think we should head to the closest major city.” Sampson crushed out his cigarette and walked over to the map tacked to the wall in the office. He skimmed across it with his finger. “It’s too far to Louisville from here.” He ran his finger down south and stopped on the closest city he could find.
“That’s Nashville,” said Trooper Anderson.
“That’s right. Nashville...It’s out of all of our jurisdictions, but in our current situation I don’t think jurisdiction means shit. Do you Sergeant?”
“Right now, we’re just three grown men trying to find our way back to civilization. As far as jurisdiction is concerned they can kiss my ass.” Sergeant Anderson grabbed another cigarette from the pack lying on the desk. “Nashville works for me. I haven’t been there in years anyhow.”
“What are we going to do in Nashville?” Trooper Anderson stood up and walked over to the map. “What makes you think it’ll be any different there. That’s a big ass place and if things are bad there too it’s probably going to be a hell of a lot worse than here.”
“I don’t think it’s going to be any different anywhere. What I do think is that if we’re going to deal with this fucked up situation, we should do it where there are more people that can get a grip on things. And that means more sane people.” Sampson slapped his hand on the map, covering the entire state of Kentucky with his palm. “As far as I’m concerned Kentucky doesn’t exist right now. If this shit is happening across the country, which I don’t doubt it, the closest city is our best chance for finding good communication and hopefully people who are fighting back.”
“He’s right Jeffrey,” said Sergeant Anderson. “Our little town looks destroyed at this point. Besides, Nashville is only about a thirty minute drive from here, quicker if we take the freeway and run the lights.”
“We might not be able to do that, but we can try,” said Sampson. “There may be multiple car wrecks. Could be the same on Route 31, but we should stick to the side roads to keep a low profile. Probably will take longer, but it’ll be safer. Less traveled areas are going to be key. They’ll be less people around and less of a chance of being seen.”
“What if there are crazy people standing on the sides of the road shooting at us?” Trooper Anderson paced back and forth on the office’s tiny floor.
“We can’t stand around here all day thinking about what ifs,” said Sampson. “The only if we need to worry about, is if we can make it out of this half-ass secured building.”
“Alright,” said Sergeant Anderson. “You’ve convinced me. Now we just need to figure out how we’re getting out of here, but first let’s go to the weapons s
torage and grab everything we can.”
“Good idea,” said Sampson.
They know it’s not a great plan, but after looking out of the window in the Sergeant’s office and seeing a multitude of growling, bloody Franklin residents, it was time to get moving. The townspeople must have figured out that the last remaining fresh meat was held up in Trooper Post 31. Sergeant Anderson didn’t like the idea of leaving his hometown, but he kept his opinion to himself. He figured it would be the best thing to get his young nephew out of there. He hadn’t discussed it with them just yet, but he was not going to leave without checking on his sister either. He wouldn’t have a problem with Trooper Anderson agreeing to this, considering it is his mother, but he wondered how his nephew would react if Margie was in the same state of mind as the blood covered townspeople, or worse, if she was dead. At least if she were alive, they could tie her up to keep her from biting them, and they could keep her that way until they could hopefully find a cure for whatever turned the people into, well, cannibals. That is certainly the impression the people are giving now.
That’s what cannibals do. They eat people. They certainly aren’t on their knees with their faces buried in the grass, munching away. Sergeant Anderson thought about a cure and wondered if there could be such a thing. Probably not, because nothing like this had ever happened before that he knew of. It could be some governmental experiment that had gone wrong. He had heard of things like this happening before. Another thought crossed his mind about the Miller farm. He wondered if it was some kind of a sign and if this was just the beginning of something much worse. He knew the thought ran through all three of their minds as they looked out of the window at the mass of people gathering around. It reminded him of the first time he watched that zombie movie, the black and white one from the 1960s. He didn’t like how it ended because the good guys killed off the one remaining good guy held up in the house without even checking if he was normal or not. It didn’t give him a good gut feeling about their future on this cool September morning.
They stood at the main entrance to Post 31 behind the steel door with a duffel bag full of weapons and ammunition. They were an army of three, with Sergeant Anderson being in charge, Mike Sampson being the brains behind the operation, and Trooper Anderson being the low man on the totem pole. They all served a purpose and that was to make sure each other stayed alive until the madness ends. They donned as much police protective gear as they could without weighing themselves down too much in case they needed to run. They each had put on a bulletproof vest and protective gear for their faces and necks. Thank goodness for the government supplying the police force with military grade gear.
They all agreed that the flesh-eating people had gone straight for the face or neck first. Each of them held an extra shotgun slung over their shoulder. They double- checked all their weapons to make sure they were fully loaded.
Sergeant Anderson pulled the shade back slightly on the front door and peeked through the side. He squinted his eyes as the bright sunlight shined through.
“Is it clear?” Trooper Anderson looked over his uncle’s shoulder and tried to see out through the window himself.
“No,” said Sergeant Anderson. “Looks like about five or six hostiles.” He noticed they were gathering near the Mobile Command Vehicle and thought to himself how ironic it is that they would be loitering in the direction himself and the other two needed to go. “We’re probably going to have to blast our way out of here like Dillinger.”
Sampson stepped next to Sergeant Anderson and pulled the shade back, letting the sun brighten the entire hallway. “All right, let’s—”
Just as Sampson was going to make a suggestion on the best approach to take in getting to the Mobile Command Vehicle, his fingers slipped off the shade, sending it zipping up to the top and rolling completely up. It spun on the mounts and popped off, falling to the floor in front of them. This got the attention of the blood-covered hostiles.
“Oh, shit,” said Sergeant Anderson. “They’re starting to come this way.” He pulled the shotgun from his shoulder and pumped it one time, sending a red shell loaded with buckshot into the chamber.
“We have to do something and fast,” said Trooper Anderson.
The hostiles (the name Sergeant Anderson coined for them while they were gathering their weapons) started to growl as they noticed the trio inside the building. They turned and started walking slowly toward the door with clearly one thing in mind, and that was “it’s getting close to lunchtime so let’s eat.”
“All right,” said Sampson. “You got the keys ready?”
“Got them right here,” said Sergeant Anderson.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” said Sampson as he checked the ammunition in his shotgun. “We’ll go out of here in a type of triangle formation with our backs to each other. This way we can cover all angles around us so none of those hostiles can sneak up on us and take one of us out.”
“Sounds good to me,” said Trooper Anderson. “Let’s just get the hell out of here.”
“All right,” said Sergeant Anderson. “Let’s do this.” He took a deep breath with the thought it could be one of the last breaths he takes after opening the door. Hovering his finger over the combination lock buttons, he felt like a cartoon character tempting to push the red button, wanting to know what would happen when he did. Of course, he knew there were only two possible outcomes once he opened the door. Either they would make it to the vehicle or they would not. He hoped for the former. He took another deep breath and punched in the four digits, 3-4-9-3. The door clicked. He grabbed the doorknob and pulled the door open.
By the time they reached the vehicle that sat less than fifty feet from the building, they all three felt like it must have taken ten minutes to get there. With their backs to each other and shotguns sticking out in front of them with the butt stock down near the hip like in an action-hero movie, they shuffled their feet as they crossed the threshold of the door. The small group of hostiles was no match to the high-powered shotguns loaded with buckshot. Five went down with shots to the chest that blew large gaping holes through their backs, sending blood and gore across the parking lot. The sixth one went down when Trooper Anderson’s aim had been slightly off. Now you see it now you don’t. The sixth one’s head disappeared into thin air and sent a spray of red mist and skull fragments across a fifteen-foot radius, some splattered onto nearby parked patrol cars and some onto the trio as they picked up their pace toward the Command Vehicle.
Without exchanging any opinions about the six hostiles they had just blown away, they got into the vehicle and fired it up. The engine sputtered to life, but smoothed out after Sergeant Anderson pumped the gas pedal a few times, sending a cloud of white smoke out of the exhaust pipe. A quick glance in the side view mirror let him know they made a smart decision to leave. There were at least twenty or thirty hostiles coming toward the Post. This gave all three of them the assumption that there were not too many normal people left in town at this point. Sergeant Anderson put the vehicle in gear and pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The rear tires hopped and skipped, but the van wouldn’t move.
“What’s wrong?” asked Sampson.
“It’s fucking stuck,” said Sergeant Anderson.
Sampson looked out of the passenger side mirror and noticed his car sat smashed against the side of the command vehicle, blocking it from leaving the parking space.
“Oh, shit,” said Sampson as he opened the door and jumped out. Jeffrey looked stunned at watching Sampson exit the vehicle and wondered if he had a death wish.
“What’s he doing,” said Jeffrey. Sergeant Anderson watched as Sampson hurriedly started his car and threw it in gear. Smoke flowed from the rear tires as he backed up, ripping the front bumper off the car that was stuck to the side of the command vehicle.
“He’s getting the car unstuck,” said Sergeant Anderson. “Just relax.”
Jeffrey looked out the back window and said, “They’re getting closer. We have t
o go now.”
“I know that Jeffrey. Just shut the fuck up.” The hostiles got closer and closer as Sampson got out of the car and ran back to the command vehicle. He opened the door and got inside. Sergeant Anderson put the vehicle in gear, looked at Sampson, and slammed the gas pedal to the floor. The vehicle jolted out of the parking space, sending smoke from beneath the tires and a cloud from the tailpipe. Some of the hostiles had made a jump for the back of the vehicle, but missed grabbing hold by mere inches.
They sped out of the parking lot and onto the main road. The passed several abandoned vehicles and watched as hostiles were gnawing away at bodies that lay in the middle of the road. Some hostiles looked at them as they sped by, growling and hissing. They tried to grab the vehicle, but were flung away each time.
They made it off the main road and headed south toward Nashville. They would drive straight through, but first a quick stop to Jeffrey’s mother’s house to assess her situation.
NIKKI AND EDDIE
Blood dripped from the bite wound on Nikki’s left forearm and stained the plush carpet in the living room where she had been watching television. She wrapped the wound with dressing she pulled out of the first aid kit that she kept under the kitchen sink. She never thought she would need it for this kind of emergency. She breathed heavily and wiped the sweat from her forehead with a dishcloth then tossed it into the sink. It was quite a chore and had scared the shit out of her, almost literally, when she wrestled Eddie into the hall closet and pushed Bobby’s heavy recliner in front of it to keep him from getting out. She felt sick to her stomach and wanted to throw up because she had never hit her child before. In fact, she had never punched anyone quite the way she did Eddie this morning. She knew she must have busted his nose when the blood poured from it. For no apparent reason he had sunk his teeth deep into her skin. Eddie’s teeth were quite sharp and the braces added to the intense pain when he broke through the skin on her arm and touched bone. She felt his teeth grind against it, sending a shockwave of pain through her entire body. Punching him in the nose seemed like the only way to get him to let go so she did it without thinking twice. She first tried to squeeze her fingers between his teeth, but he held on like a pit-bull with a T-bone steak hanging from its mouth. She wondered to herself that if she hadn’t punched him would he have continued to try and bite her again and again?
The Gorging Page 13