Rancid: A Zombie Novel

by P. A. Douglas

  “I’m up for that,” the pilot grinned. “Let’s do this. The sooner we’s get back in the air, the sooner I can get back to the Misses.”

  “See… he’s on board.” Benjamin smiled, yet irritated that he wasn’t at home asleep. “Let’s get this over with, Chelsea.”

  She sighed, and followed behind Benjamin and the pilot. They made their way through a door on the roof, down some steps, and through a few hallways. As they worked their way through the maze that was the back of the police station, Chelsea couldn't help but feel uneasy. Something much worse was going on here than any of them could ever realize. The closer they got to the front of the building, the more her stomach tightened and her throat tensed. The persistence of those outside grew louder, making her sick to her stomach.

  After passing what looked like storage lockers, a few bathrooms and a hallway that led to the holding cells, they reached their destination. It took trying a few locked doors and some uncertainty, but they finally made it.

  The door opened out revealing a large room with half a dozen desks. Two rows of three. Each desk had computers with various pictures and post-it notes making each desk its own. The ceiling was low and the panels were old and moldy in some spots suggesting water leak issues. With Benjamin in the lead, they made their way down the center aisle. At the end of the two rows of desks, the room veered right. It opened up to another, much smaller area near the buildings double door entrance. The dead outside couldn’t be seen, but they could definitely be heard.

  “You must be Benjamin.” A tall man with dark hair said just as they entered the room.

  He walked over shaking hands with the three new arrivals. His wardrobe was all white except for his black boots that tucked his white jeans into them. The only thing on his white shirt was the G.W.E planet logo on the left of the chest. Standing up next to Benjamin and the pilot only made him look even bigger. Chelsea instantly noticed his hand when he walked up to them. Having shaken everyone’s hand with his left made it a dead giveaway. His right hand was bandaged and tucked away in his pants pocket. Before she could ask about it, he started laying out the details of what had happened to them so far. She cringed with every word he spoke. This was no normal waste management spill. This was something much worse.

  “Hi, I’m Dane. The one you corresponded with not all that long ago. As you can tell, the situation is bad.” He motioned toward the entrance to the station. “So bad in fact, I would implore you to involve higher authority. The National Guard or someone of that nature. People are killing each other out there and it has been more than an hour since I have received correspondence with several of my cleanup teams. Cleanup teams that were escorted by at least one local law enforcement member, I might add.”

  “First of all, Dane…” Benjamin’s voice was very insistent. “The last thing we are going to do right now is involve someone like the Na…”

  As he was still talking, Chelsea drowned out his voice. It was something she could do on command. He just had that annoying arrogance about him that anyone in their right mind would learn to shut out. She looked past Benjamin, who was being very stern with this Dane character. There were only two other people in the room. One was a very large, heavyset woman sitting behind a desk. Chelsea guessed that her name was June. The nameplate lying on the desk gave it away. Beside her, also on the other side of the desk was a frail old black man. They both seemed utterly terrified, huddled together. On over, there were two doors in the room. One obviously led to the lobby and the main entrance and the other was a smaller door. This made Chelsea assume it was a maintenance closet or even a bathroom. It wasn’t labeled as anything so there was no telling. What made Chelsea stop breathing for a moment was the smear of blood on the unmarked door. It caught her attention instantly. She looked at it again, then at the heavyset woman, and back at it again. June’s frightened expression locked eyes with Chelsea. June nodded at the blood smeared door, then at Dane, who was still listening to Benjamin rant on and on about power hungry nonsense.

  “… and that’s going to be the end of it!” Benjamin was saying. “Not another word on the matter. We take care of this ourselves and that’s that. Got it?”

  “You’re just being a…” Dane started to bark back, but Chelsea cut in.

  “Not to be rude… but, what happened to your right hand?” She then nodded at the door across the room. “And is this it? Is this everyone in the police station? What happened?”

  Dane looked back at June and the old black man. “Yeah, we’re it. When my crew got here,” he said glancing at his watch. “More than an hour and a half ago… I had two teams of three. Each team has their own van. June over there was nice enough to call in some of the policemen that were off duty. We had at least one cop per team. But that was more than an hour ago. The only team I’ve heard back from didn’t have that much in the way of luck.” He frowned.

  “What do you mean,” she asked.

  Dane lifted his right hand from his jean pocket. It was bandaged well… but was soaked with blood.

  “The team leader was the only one that made it back alive.”

  “Oh, this is bullshit!” Benjamin insisted. “I’m not about to sit here and hear these lies.”

  “Shut up, Benjamin. Let the man talk!” Chelsea pushed past her boss to get a better look at Dane’s hand. “You need to re-bandage this.”

  “I am aware of that.” Dane said pulling away from her. “Like I was saying. Kyle, the team leader, made it back. But he was the only one. The two other members and the cop were gone. When we finally got him out the van and into the station, he was ballistic. Saying things…”

  “Like what?” The pilot asked.

  “That the people out there weren’t just attacking each other. But that they were dead. But not just dead. Returned from the dead!”

  “Yeah, right.” Benjamin threw up his hands. “You can’t be believing this shit.”

  “Go on…” Chelsea said, ignoring Benjamin. “What else happened, Dane?”

  Dane stepped over to the desk that June was hunkered down behind. He leaned against it pulling a pack of cigarettes from his left pocket. It was obvious that he was pretty shaken up, something Chelsea didn’t notice about him when he first introduced himself. He packed the cigarette box twice, and then pulled free one smoke. Not offering one to anyone else, he stuffed them away. He came away with a lighter. The embers of paper and tobacco came to life as he inhaled. With a bellow of smoke exiting his lungs, he took a moment to speak.

  “You hear that out there?” Dane asked, nodding at the noise out front. “The little bit of noise we made outside helping my team leader out of that van was what brought all of them out here. And now… now, they won’t go away. It wasn’t until we had Kyle out of the van that we realized we were starting to gather some attention in the streets. Luckily, we got him back inside safe. There were seven of us including Kyle then.” Dane took a deep breath and looked back at June and the old black man. “The crowd. There were too many of them. The three cops that were here tried to hold them back. But their persistence didn’t matter. It wasn’t until the first cop shot someone that we knew it was serious. There was blood everywhere and people were falling left and right.”

  Chelsea gasped.

  “Yeah… but that’s just it. They didn’t stay down. They got back up. I’m talking headshots and still getting back up. Who the fuck does that? Needless to say… the three cops with weapons held back and bought us some time to pull Kyle inside. They didn’t make it.”

  “And your hand?”

  Dane shrugged then glanced at the door across from them. Leaving the cigarette between his lips, smoke pouring from his nose, he massaged his right hand. His expression suggested it was uncomfortable, but tolerable. Chelsea swallowed hard. She was smart enough to put two and two together. Kyle, this so called team leader wasn’t around. She looked at the blood-covered door with fear. Her heart felt like it was in the back of her throat. Her eyes burned and she felt herself ge
tting dizzy.

  “Yep… you guessed it.” Dane puffed on his cigarette a few times then looked at the bloody door. “Kyle’s in there. Shortly after we got inside and did what we could to barricade the entrance, he flipped out. I mean more than normal. Hell, if I was out there and got attacked, I would flip out too. But this was different. He changed.”

  “What the hell’s ya mean, he changed?” The pilot groaned; his eyes wide with shock.

  “When we pulled Kyle out of the van, he was pretty banged up. He stayed conscious long enough to tell us about being attacked by the river front. They were assessing the spill zone for contamination levels. What it was is… and then …He was dead! I swear… he was fucking deader than a damn door knob.”

  “Sounds to me like we’re just wastin’ time here.” The pilot interjected. “I say we get back to the roof, get in the chopper, and get the hell out of here!”

  Dane busted out with a fit of coughing. Taking one last drag from the spent cigarette, he dropped it to the cold tile floor and mashed it under his boot.

  “I’m with this guy. Getting out of here is the best idea I’ve heard yet.” Dane said.

  He stood up, pulling himself away from the desk. The sudden sharp pain in his hand made his face crunch up.

  “You weren’t done telling us what happened,” Chelsea demanded. “What happened with Kyle and your hand?”

  “Well,” Dane sighed. “After we realized that Kyle had quit breathing, June over there…,” he said pointing at the heavyset woman. “She and the old man helped me lift him. We were going to move him into the other room, you see.”

  “Let me guess…” Benjamin said, sarcastically. “He woke back up?”

  “Exactly!” June said.

  Everyone in the room suddenly turned to her with undivided attention. Chelsea could tell that it made the overweight woman uncomfortable. Her face went flush and her lips sealed shut as if she wished she hadn’t opened her mouth to begin with.

  “Come on… You can’t be serious!”

  “No one asked you, Mr. Watts.” The pilot glared.

  “Yeah…” Dane continued. “We had him up and were moving him into the other room when he woke up. I swear he was dead. His skin was cold and he wasn’t breathing. He sank his teeth into my hand before I realized what was happening.”

  “And the gunshot?” Chelsea asked. “It sounded like something happened and a gun went off when we lost your call earlier.”

  Dane shuttered, then pulled out another cigarette. He smoked it to the butt before anyone said anything. The sound of protesters beating outside at the front door hadn’t let up at all. With no one talking, it seemed so much louder.

  “When I called you, we had Kyle tied up and sitting on the floor in the corner. At first, I thought he was just sick, but he got out of his bonds and attacked me again. That’s when the call got dropped.”

  “So you shot ‘im?” The pilot asked.

  Dane didn’t say anything. He just nodded a silent confirmation. His gaze dropped to the floor. The room filled with silence again, reminding everyone of the ensuing danger right outside.

  “The part that freaked me out wasn’t even shooting him. Hell… I’ve known Kyle for three years. Even played tennis with his wife and kids a time or two. No, killing him came natural. Us or them, just kicked in I guess. The part that really fucked with my nerves was the fact that he got back up even after that.”

  “He what…” Chelsea covered her mouth with one hand.

  “Yeah, lady. I shot him right between the eyes. He was done for a minute, but only a minute. When he started getting up again, I pushed him into that supply closet.”

  “I don’t hear anybody in there.” Benjamin said. “You’re full of shit.”

  “You don’t believe me? Feel free to man up and open that door.” Dane said. “Just wait till I’m the hell out of the building first! Trust me. He’s in there all right. And nowhere near as dead as he should be.”

  “Who the hell do you think you are talking back to like that? I’m Benjamin Watts! If it weren’t for me this town would be dead!”

  “Who the hell am I? Buddy… You’ve got a lot of nerve. This town is dead. Literally! Look around. And you want to know who I am?” Dane stepped up to Benjamin looking down at him, anger showing in his eyes. “I’m the motherfucker that got paid to come down here and clean up your mess. The whole thing is…”

  “Exactly!” Benjamin shouted, cutting the big man off. “You work for me! And don’t forget that.” He bowed up, shoving a finger into the Dane’s chest. “Your job is to clean this up. That's what I’m paying you to do, right? Well quit pouting about it and do something!”

  Dane cringed, his good hand balling up into a fist. He gritted his teeth. Chelsea saw veins bulging on his neck.

  “You two need to just stop it!” Chelsea said, stepping between them. “This isn’t helping anything.”

  “Hey, man. I don’t reckon this conversation can pick up after we’ve all squeezed into the chopper? I don’t know about ya'll, but I ain’t all that comfortable with lingering around. What if those front doors give way or something?”

  “Just shut up!” Benjamin yelled, turning his agitation to the pilot. “I pay you to fly… Not to have an opinion.”

  “You know, pal. I’ve only known you for a minute of two and I already don’t like you!” Dane shouted. “The thing is… I…”

  Dane’s left hand met his mouth with another fit of coughing. When he was finally done hacking all over his hand, it came away with red mixed plasma and mucous. He strained his eyes for a second, and then went back to leaning against the desk.

  “You said you shot your team leader.” Benjamin said, walking over to Dane, a hard look on his face. “I want that gun.”

  “You can forget that, chump.” Dane said between coughs.

  The excitement of shouting had stirred up the undead man in the supply closet. The sudden pounding at the door startled Chelsea. June shrieked and clung tightly to the black man crouched down beside her.

  Trying to ignore the jittering supply closet door, Chelsea said, “So, who are these people?”

  “Who? June?” Dane looked over his shoulder at the big woman and the old black man. “She works here; does the dispatch calls. I thought we already established that.”

  Chelsea nodded at the obese woman trying to force out a smile. Her face only crunched up instead.

  “And what’s his story?” She asked, pointing to the old black man.

  His eyes were wide, like he was taking in what was happening through a magnifying glass.

  “His… his name is Teddy, but most people around town call him Shorts. He’s homeless, mute and deaf.” June said. Her voice wavered, clearly nervous. “Since, I’m generally the only one here at night taking calls during third shift, I let him come in and get out of the weather. I enjoy the company late at night. He tends to keep to himself. Most people try running him off, but he’s really sweet.”

  The old black man looked scared curled up in the large woman’s arms. His frame was so thin and frail that he looked like a mere twig in her thick arms. His clothes were ratty and dirt covered. There was no mistaking it. He was homeless. Being a native to the area, Chelsea could have sworn she had seen him around town a time or two. But like June had pointed out, the old man pretty much just kept to himself. You would think that someone his age would be set up in a retirement home. But that wasn’t the case. Clarksburg was too small for things like that to matter.

  “I hate to break it to you, people. But… I didn’t get out of bed and fly all the way over here just to have a small chat.” Benjamin sneered. “I came down here to make sure a job was getting done. Now if you please!”

  “If I please, what?” Dane said. “What the hell do you expect us to do? My crew is possibly dead or even worse. We can’t raise anyone on the radios and we are kind of out fucking numbered. Or did you miss that part?”

  Benjamin started to go down that rabbit trail again. H
e was going to suggest that everyone do what he said, but before he could, everyone’s attention was diverted. A car horn blared out with a long steady hum. It stopped, and then was followed by three short bursts.

  “Someone’s out there!” The pilot said.

  “A lot of people are out there, idiot.”

  “Shut your pie hole, Mr. Watts. No one asked you.”

  The horn blasted again followed by what sounded like gun shots. Between the persistent banging at the police station entrance and the irritation of the lone ghoul held hostage in the supply closet, Chelsea was surprised they had heard any of it at all.

  The attention that the dead had been giving to the double doors of the station slowly dissipated. They were being draw away from the entrance.

  “We’ve got to do something!” Chelsea said.

  “No we don’t!” Benjamin threw his hands into the air. “Come on. We’re going back to the factory. Then I’m going home. Forget this.”

  He grabbed the pilot by the shoulder and started toward the back of the station, but the pilot refused.

  “Didn’t you hear what I just said? Let’s go!”

  “She’s right.” The pilot said. “We need to see what’s happenin’ out there. Those people may need some help or somthin’.”