Fatal Reaction, The Beginning

by M A Hollstein

  Suddenly, the black pickup truck behind her flew into reverse, bashing into the vehicle behind it. Ellie jumped at the horrific sound of crunching metal.

  “Oh no!” she screeched as the truck flew forward, smashing hard into the rear-end of her sedan, causing her to lurch forward. Her car skidded sideways, hitting the infected man and knocking him down. Stunned by the force of the crash, it took Ellie a moment to realize that her windows were still down. Breathing heavily, she looked around in a panic while still clutching her steering wheel. Her eyes landed on the window. Bloody fingers gripped her door over the rolled down glass. The man was using her window to pull himself up. Frantic, Ellie tried to roll it up with one hand while putting her car into drive with the other hand.

  Bam! Ellie flew forward again. This time her chest hit the steering wheel, temporarily knocking the wind out of her. She looked up and glanced in her rearview mirror. The black truck had rammed her again in a desperate attempt to flee the border. It was now flying into reverse. Ellie tried to regain her breath. This time the truck had crashed into her with such force that her car skidded to the left. She was now facing the side of the silver SUV that’d been in front of her. The man in the driver’s seat flung open his door and stumbled out. He, too, looked ill. He wiped at his pale forehead with the bottom of his white T-shirt and staggered into the street. People in the vehicles all around her were beginning to panic. Cars, trucks, and SUVs were bashing into one another as they desperately tried to turn around, or tried to run straight through the barricade to escape Nevada into California. Cars on the opposite side of the road that were trying to enter Nevada from California began to freak out as well.

  “Roll up, roll up!” Ellie screamed, now focusing on her window and the bloody fingers still clinging to it. How the hell was he still holding onto her car? Emerging into view was the top of his dark blonde head. Within seconds, red, bloodshot eyes with golden centers stared at her through a swollen face as he lifted himself up to snarl at her. Blood dripped from the infected man’s lips. Lifting the top corner of his upper lip, he snarled, giving her full view of red blood stained teeth. Ellie freaked out and held down the button on her door, forcing the window up. It seemed like it was taking an eternity to close. The man was now on his feet. She ducked to the side as he shoved a hand in at her, trying to grab her hair. The window stopped moving. The glass had clamped down on his wrist. Leaning to the side, still trying to avoid his clawing fingers, Ellie kept her index finger on the window button. She was afraid that if she were to let it go, he’d somehow be able to force it open.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” she cried, all other words eluded her.

  Doing the only thing that came to mind, Ellie stomped her foot down on the gas pedal, lurching her car forward, and then quickly slammed on the brakes before crashing into the parked SUV. She kept leaning to the side while practically lying across the passenger seat. She quickly threw her car into reverse. She couldn’t see behind her because she couldn’t lift her head to look in the rearview mirror without the possibility of being grabbed. Regardless, she knew she couldn’t get very far without crashing. There were too many vehicles blocking her in.

  The infected man growled and continued to claw, trying to reach her. Blood leaked from his wrist, dripping down the window. Skin peeled back as he tried to force his arm into her car. Ellie reached for one of the plastic bags of groceries on the floorboard of the passenger side. Her finger hooked a handle. She yanked the bag towards her and reached inside. The first hard item her hand grasped was a can of soup. She clutched hold of it, and with all her strength, struck the hand with it. The man bellowed at she smashed his hand repeatedly. She felt the crunching of bones with each blow. Again, she threw her car into reverse and then slammed it into drive. The man’s wrist finally dislodged from her window leaving behind a bloody mess.

  She tapped the window button, rolling it the rest of the way up. Without thinking, she forced her car over the divider and into the opposite lanes of traffic. There were too many crashed vehicles and people running in complete disorder around her to venture home. And if she veered into the sand, she was afraid she’d get stuck and end up being on foot. Going the way she came was the better choice since there wasn’t any danger of oncoming traffic with the barrier up between the two states.

  People were screaming, running amuck, and climbing out of their vehicles. Infected people seemed to be appearing from out of nowhere and attacking whomever they could. Ellie watched as an older woman standing next to a baby blue Buick, was being attacked on the opposite side of the road. Tears stung her eyes. She wanted to stop to help her, but knew there wasn’t anything she could do. It was too late. If she stopped, she too, would either die or become infected. She wondered how many of these people, waiting to cross the border to go home had known they were infected or that their loved ones were.

  “God damn it!” Ellie cussed, pounding a fist against the steering wheel. She didn’t know what the hell she was going to do. Tears flooded her eyes and streamed down her cheeks. She could no longer control her emotions. She forced her car forward, driving in the same direction she’d just come from. Her car thumped along making all kinds of odd noises. Her back bumper dragged on the asphalt. Her poor car wasn’t in the best of shape since it’d been rammed several times, but she floored the gas pedal regardless. She wanted to put distance between herself and the border.

  Even though she was trapped in Nevada, and couldn’t go home, she was thankful to be alive. But where the hell was she going to go now? She’d tried calling her parents and her sister in Florida while she’d been waiting at the border. Neither had answered her calls. She’d left several messages wanting to make sure everyone was okay. Her parents, she could see not checking their answering machine. Half the time they were oblivious to new messages. But not her sister. Being a teenager, Claire’s phone was practically glued to her ear. She prayed that whatever the heck this virus thing was it hadn’t affected the east coast. She’d also left voicemails for both of her girlfriends whom she’d met in Las Vegas for the weekend. She hadn’t expected a reply from either one, knowing that they were currently up in the air, flying back home.

  Heart pounding, Ellie drove further into the Nevada desert, the sun was now completely gone. When she felt she was far enough away from the pile up at the border, she pulled over onto the side of the road. She was frightened to stop moving, but needed a moment to stop and think. She grabbed her cell phone and dialed 911. A recording played announcing that all the lines were currently busy. Frowning, Ellie ended the call and glared at her phone. How the hell can 911 be busy? She tried several more times to get through. She was no longer getting a recording. The phone would just ring. Frustrated, she finally gave up. She needed to think. What in the world am I going to do?

  She leaned her head back on the backrest and stared out the windshield into the darkness. She then glanced at her window, thankful that the darkness of the night hid the blood dried on the glass. On the verge of fresh tears, she had an idea. She reached into the back pocket of her denim shorts and did the only thing that she could think of. She pulled out the business card and dialed Sheriff Michael Wilson to report what’d happened.

  Chapter 6

  Amanda shivered. She wasn’t cold but chilled to the bone with fright. She stayed huddled in the dark by the dumpster until she could no longer hear the agonizing screams of the people in the street. She could only picture in her mind the carnage that was going on out there.

  She hadn’t a clue what she should do.

  Should she try to go back to her car? She was doubtful that it’d just be waiting there in the street for her. And if it was, would she be able to go anywhere? It’d probably still be blocked in with traffic.

  Her mind drifted to Jasper. She’d never found him. Was he now one of those things? One of those horrible things she’d seen on TV, and at the hospital, that were attacking innocent people? She hated to think of him that way. A part of her wanted to venture back
to the hospital to look for him, to make sure he wasn’t lying there on the ground sick, but the other part of her warned against it. She’d just have to pray he was okay. Maybe he was in the hospital and being treated.

  Stop being such a wuss! she told herself. Do something! It’d been quiet for over an hour, maybe even two hours now. She would’ve checked her phone, but had somehow lost her purse in the throngs of people at the hospital. She listened. She didn’t hear anymore screams or shouts. There were no sirens, no gunshots, nothing. Just quiet. Actually, the quiet scared her even more than the noise. At least when there was noise, she knew there was still stuff going on.

  Should she try walking back to the hospital? Things should be better by now. Right? Maybe the police had everything under control. Surely Jasper was there. She was sure of it. She had to do the right thing and at least make sure he was okay. She’d never be able to live with herself not knowing what’d happened to him. Besides, she needed to see if she could find her purse. Not that she really expected to. She figured it would be long gone by now. However, getting her hands on her cell phone and some cab money would be nice. And if not, maybe the hospital would be able to help her out with that. The least they could do was to let her use the phone. And hell, she’d forgotten all about the frickin’ gun. She wished she had Jasper’s gun. It was in her purse. Not that she knew how to use it, but she was sure she’d be able to figure it out pretty damn quick. If only she’d paid more attention, she wouldn’t have somehow lost her purse. She didn’t even remember losing it. Everything had been happening so quickly. Maybe Jasper had it. Maybe she dropped her purse when he’d collapsed. That’s probably what’d happened. She had dropped her purse when he went down. The straps must have slid off her shoulder as she tried to lift him up. That meant that he had the gun to protect himself. The thought made her feel a little better. If Jasper had his gun, then it wasn’t like she’d abandoned him without protection. He’d be okay. He would’ve been able to fight off the infected and get himself checked into the hospital.

  Trying to talk herself into getting up, Amanda’s legs refused to move. She’d been huddled in a crouching position next to the dumpster for so long, that they’d gone numb. She sunk down until her rear-end was flat on the ground and she could feel the coldness of the pavement seep in through the thick fabric of her jeans. She’d been so frightened, she hadn’t even realized that the entire time she’d been in hiding, she’d been crouching there in her gold high heels. For the first time, she realized how bad her feet hurt in those stupid ass shoes. Heck, all of her hurt. What the hell was she thinking when she’d bought them? For one, she’d never believed she’d be running for her life in them. Next time though, if there were a next time, she’d make sure to buy a more sensible pair of shoes. A pair she could run in.

  Amanda leaned her back against the brick building and closed her eyes as she waited for the blood flow to return to her legs. They were now sticking straight out in front of her. Her feet were just past the edge of the dumpster. She felt a little more exposed sitting this way, but she was pretty sure no one would notice her feet if they looked down the alley from the street, unless they were looking for them.

  Rubbing her thighs, Amanda braced herself against the uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles as the blood began to flow again. She rubbed at her legs and then froze. What was that?

  “Shhhh…tchhhh…”

  She heard something. Something scraping. Scuffling. This was the first noise she’d heard in a while. She held still and listened.

  “Shhhh…tchhhh…”

  Amanda’s nerves were on end. The little hairs on the back of her neck, stood up. She held her breath, afraid to breathe. Whatever it was that’d made the scuffling sound was close by. It was in the alley. She could hear it on the other side of the dumpster. She braced herself, pushing her back against the wall.

  “Shhh…tchhh…”

  The sound was growing closer. She wanted to pull her legs up, pull her knees up to her chest. Try to melt into the shadows. She was too frightened to move for fear of being heard. She prayed that her feet wouldn’t be seen. Maybe if she held still enough, they’d blend in. Her hazel eyes, large with fright, darted from side to side. She searched for something within arm’s length that could be used as a weapon. Nothing! There was absolutely nothing! Just some flattened cardboard boxes and a stack of old newspapers but she knew that already. She’d had hours to think about it when all the carnage was going on in the street. All she’d been able to think about was what she could use as a weapon. And she still had no answers. There was nothing but friggin’ boxes and paper. Thank the heavens no one had entered the alley. No one… until now.

  Then she saw it. From the corner of her eye, something moved. It scurried around the bottom of the dumpster and stopped by her foot. There was just enough light filtering into the alley from a street lamp near the sidewalk so she could see it. A pale yellow glow lit up a large grey rat. It stopped near her foot, hunched onto its hind legs, and twitched its long wiry whiskers.

  Amanda let out an exasperated sigh and her shoulders slumped with relief. She closed her eyes and said a thank you prayer. Normally, a rat would’ve sent her over the edge, but not tonight. She was so grateful to see that it wasn’t someone or something else. She was so relieved; she had the sudden urge to want to kiss the furry varmint. Well, almost that relieved. Rats still gave her the heebie jeebies. Not that she was complaining. Amanda concentrated on her breathing while trying to steady her racing pulse. It had been a rat.

  “Squeeee…!” A high-pitched squeal tore through the alley, shattering the silence.

  Amanda’s eyes popped open just in time to see a hand snatching the rat around the middle and squeezing. Without thinking, she pulled her legs in and jumped to her feet. A man in a long tan trench coat was on all fours near the front corner of the dumpster. Like some sort of wild animal he shoved the rat, head first, into his mouth and bit down. Blood spurted from his lips and the rat’s body went limp. He’d been so preoccupied with the rat that he hadn’t noticed her watching him.

  Doing the first thing that came to mind, Amanda slipped off her heels, feeling the cold pavement beneath her feet and held them protectively in her hands. The first words Jasper had spoken to her when she’d come home with them after a full day of shopping, rang in her ears. “Damn, baby! You could use those heels as weapons!” And that’s exactly what she was going to do.

  Making the first move, Amanda flew out of her hiding place from within the shadows. The man was still on the ground, chomping down on the rat with blood dripping from his chin and hands, and stared up at her with golden eyes.

  “Stay back!” she warned, clutching her shoes tighter.

  A snarl escaped his lips.

  Amanda gasped. The only way out of the alley was to run past him. She knew she had to act fast. There was no going back to hiding in the shadows. She glanced over her shoulder. The other direction led to a dead end.

  Amanda went to dart past him, when the man tossed what was left of the rat carcass to the ground and leapt to his feet with quickened reflexes. A hand grasped her long blonde hair as she ran, yanking her back. Screaming, she reacted without thinking, swinging the point of her spiked golden heels behind her without looking. The man bellowed as one of the spikes made contact with his eye and his grip released, freeing her hair. Dropping her shoes, she ran barefoot down the deserted sidewalk, sprinting in the direction of the hospital.

  Chapter 7

  Sheriff Wilson nudged the body of a little girl, no older than five years of age, with his boot in case she tried to attack him. He’d made a near fatal mistake a couple hours earlier and could’ve ended up either dead or infected himself. She didn’t move. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. There was nothing more heartbreaking than seeing a dead child. He then moved around the living room of the small two-bedroom house. The next-door neighbor was the one that’d made the 911 call when she’d heard screaming. Mike sighed. The mother�
�s lifeless body was draped over the couch, gnawed on, and mutilated. His guess was the little girl had somehow become infected and then changed as they all seemed to do. That change had led to the attack on her own mother, killing her in the process.

  He walked over to the tiny eat-in kitchen, peeked into the pantry that’d been left wide open. Next, he headed for the dark hallway. The bathroom door was ajar and so was the door leading to a master bedroom. The house was older and rundown. The carpet was filthy and in desperate need of changing. Mike stood at the entrance to the bathroom. There was nothing of interest in there. He then pushed the door open to the master bedroom with his foot and carefully let himself in. Patting the wall next to the door, his hand made contact with the light switch, turning on the overhead light to the ceiling fan above a queen-sized bed. He made his way around the bed, exploring the somewhat messy room. There was a large pile of dirty laundry stacked against the wall beneath the window. He nudged it with his foot.

  The neighbor had mentioned that there were two young children living in the house with their mother. He wanted to make sure that the other child wasn’t there hiding somewhere. He hoped that only one child had been home when this atrocity occurred.

  Kneeling down, Mike lifted the blue plaid comforter, that’d slid down over the side of the bed and peeked underneath. It was dark. A couple pairs of shoes and a stack of magazines obstructed his view. He carefully pushed them aside.

  A yowl caused him to jump to his feet as a cat raced out from beneath the bed, startling him. Mike chuckled, pressing his hand over his heart. “Damn cat,” he muttered, shaking his head. Normally, something like that wouldn’t have affected him, but after today’s turn of events, his nerves were on edge.

  “You all right in there?” a fellow sheriff asked, he stood in the doorway looking in. Somehow, they’d both been called out to the same location even though law enforcement was spread thin.