Fatal Reaction, The Beginning

by M A Hollstein

  “Hello?” she called, again, hoping that she’d be heard. Maybe the motel clerk hadn’t heard the jingling of the bells when she’d entered. The motel was kind of tucked away. Maybe they weren’t used to getting much business especially this late at night. She glanced up and down the counter in search of a bell. Didn’t motels usually have a bell? In movies they always had a bell. “Hello!” Ellie tried louder this time. “Anyone here?” She waited a moment, listening.

  Silence.

  Ellie wondered if she should go in search of someone working there. She studied the dark hall to the right, in the back of the tiny office. She heard another thudding sound. It was quieter this time, but it still made her jump. Ellie turned and glanced out the glass front door into the night and chills raced down her spine. She had no desire to go back outside. Not in the dark.

  Doing the only thing that came to mind, Ellie walked around the counter and headed towards the hallway. She stopped at the entryway. “Anyone here?” She stood there for a moment, hand on the doorway, steadying herself. Her legs didn’t want to move. “I’d like a room, please…”

  Standing near the opening of the hallway, it took her a moment to gather her courage. She wasn’t one to walk down dark hallways in strange places, but she needed a room and she was tired. She knew someone was there. A car was parked out front and she’d heard those noises. She waited for a few seconds for an answer. Still nothing.

  Ellie began to wander down the hall. There was a dingy yellow bucket on wheels with a mop against the wall. A tiny stream of light was seeping into the hall from the front office. There were two closed doors. The mop was next to one of them. She figured it was probably the storage room. The other door was at the end of the hall and she could just see a sliver of light seeping out from the doorjamb.

  Ellie quietly crept nearer the door. Then she thought better of being so quiet. She didn’t want to startle anyone. “Hello?” she said again. “Anyone here? I’d like a room…”

  There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the door. She could hear footsteps. The person had to hear her. “I’ll wait in the front office,” she said, louder. “I just wanted you to know I’m here!” There was more shuffling and some sort of scraping. Ellie waited, but the door didn’t open. She nervously gnawed on her bottom lip. I’ll go wait up front, she thought, turning around. “Oh,” she said, almost forgetting to ask. “Do you mind if I use your phone? My car broke down.”

  No answer. More scraping.

  The door began to shake, but didn’t open.

  Ellie spun back around and eyed the door. It was too dark to see it. She lightly pressed her fingertips to it. “Are you okay?” she asked, having the sudden thought that maybe something was wrong with the door. Maybe the person inside couldn’t get out. “Are you locked in?”

  Against her better judgment, Ellie pushed down on the handle. She carefully pushed the door open and it hit against something. She tried again and suddenly realized she was bumping someone with it. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to…”

  The person shuffled to the side and Ellie opened the door a bit more. An elderly man stood there, his foot was blocking the door from opening all the way. “I hope I hadn’t startled you,” she said. “No one was up front.”

  The man reached for her and snatched a lock of her long hair. Ellie screamed as he yanked. A golden eye gleamed at her through swollen puffed up skin. Instant flashbacks of the infected woman at the gas station, and the man at the border, popped into her head.

  Pulling her head back, she screamed some more. The man’s hand was tangled deep into her long hair. Her scalp burned something fierce. With his other hand the man reached for her, clawing, snarling. His gnarled fingers were close to her face. Ellie still had a hold of the door handle. She pulled it towards her, trying to yank it shut. She managed to slam the heavy door on the man’s arm, hoping he’d release her. His grip didn’t loosen, instead he began to growl.

  “Let go!” Ellie shrieked, pulling hard on the handle and leaning back with her full body weight. She clutched it with both hands and prayed it didn’t slip out of her grasp. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her scalp felt like it was on fire. She pulled with all of her might. Eventually he’ll let go, she thought. The door was heavy. She pulled again, leaning hard. Her hands were becoming sweaty. Pursing her lips, she focused on her grip. She heard crunching. The bones in the old man’s wrist were shattering. His growls became deeper with the struggle.

  “Let go!” she hollered. “Let go of me!” She reached for the man’s gnarled hand trying to free it from her hair while continuing to pull the door closed with the other hand.

  Suddenly, his fingers released, the door slammed shut, and she stumbled backwards, slamming her back against the wall across from her. Regaining her footing, she sprinted down the dark hall to the dimly lit front office. She’d expected the old man to be snarling behind her, yet the door didn’t open. She wasn’t sure if it’d somehow locked when it closed or what had happened. Fingernails scraped down the other side of the door.

  Ellie spied keycards sitting on the counter. She grabbed the stack and raced out of the office. She wanted to use the phone to call for help, but didn’t want to take a chance of the old man getting loose.

  What the hell kind of virus was this? she wondered, not for the first time that day.

  Shivering, Ellie stepped into the shadows. Her heart was still racing. She was just as terrified of being outside as she was inside the motel. She had no idea what, or who, could be lurking around in the dark. Feeling the keycards in her hands gave her a small glimmer of hope, a false sense of security. She decided to try the keycards on each of the motel room doors. She hoped to get lucky, and be able to take refuge inside one of the rooms. Then she’d lock herself inside. By morning, everything should be better.

  ***

  A soft scraping sound penetrated her sleep and worked its way into her dreams. Amanda was trying to ignore the sound but couldn’t. Her eyelids flickered open and a sharp pain radiated through her neck. She reached up and massaged the knot in her muscles. Everything was dark. She’d been sleeping in a strange position and it took a second for her to remember where she was. Shivering, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned onto her side, even though she was practically sitting up since the damn seat wouldn’t recline. She closed her heavy eyelids and began to doze some more when the scratching sound started up again. It went on for a minute or two. It wasn’t until the scratching was accompanied by moaning, that Amanda’s eyes snapped open. She stared out the window across from her. She was in the driver’s seat of the patrol car, facing the passenger window with the driver’s side window to her back. It was dark.

  “Uhhhh…” Scratch, scratch… scrape…scratch…

  The sound was coming from behind her.

  Spinning around, Amanda faced the driver’s side window. A woman’s face was pressed against the glass. Hot breath fogged it up. Long slender fingers curled and scraped, as pink manicured nails clawed at her.

  Amanda let out a scream.

  This seemed to provoke the woman. She pawed at the glass, trying to get inside. One of her acrylic fingernails snapped beneath the pressure of the incessant clawing. Blood oozed from her index finger as her scraping became more manic. Near perfect teeth bit hungrily at the smooth surface of the window, leaving a smear of disgusting drool beneath collagen enhanced lips.

  Panicked and wide-eyed, Amanda double-checked the door lock. She fumbled with it. As far as she could tell, it was locked, but didn’t know for sure. She scooted her body over the center console and into the passenger seat; all the while keeping her eyes trained on the infected woman, whom at one time was probably very beautiful and refined. Now she’d been transformed into some sort of crazed zombie like creature that was desperately trying to force her way into the car.

  No longer drowsy, Amanda was wide-awake, shaking, and scared out of her freaking mind. Should she flee the car? Make a run for it? Unable t
o get herself to do anything, she pushed her back against the passenger door. She wanted to get as far away as she possibly could from the snarling bimbo.

  Thump!

  Amanda’s breath caught in her throat. Unable to move, her body seized up.

  Thump! Thump!

  Something hard banged against the door behind her. Bam! She spun around in her seat. A man was staring at her. Breathing heavily, she grabbed for the passenger side door and fumbled around until she found the lock. Her nails kept missing the latch. She cursed herself for having such long nails. As much as she loved her French manicure, it didn’t come in handy when you needed to use your fingers. She continued to grope around the door handle. Finally, her nails scraped over the buttons. Was it locked? She couldn’t tell. Being that there were no keys and with everything being electric, she just couldn’t tell. Was there a way to manually lock a door in a newer model car? Shit! she thought. And for the first time ever, she wished to be trapped in Jasper’s ancient piece of rusting crap with the old school manual locks and windows. At least then, she’d know for a fact that the friggin’ doors were locked.

  “Oh my God,” she breathed, “Oh my God. This is not good… oh my…g…”

  The man leaned in and pushed his bearded face closer to the glass. There was just enough light shining from the street lamp above that she could see a hint of his gold to his eyes as his gaze zeroed in on her. She held his stare for a moment, while trying to hold down the bile that crept up her throat. She refused to let herself throw up. Not now. She needed to stay strong and alert. She quickly glanced at the blonde woman, still clawing at the passenger side window. In her desperate effort to get inside, more fingernails had snapped off. Blood was smearing all over the glass.

  Amanda’s eyes shifted back to the bearded man. He was large, overweight, and wearing a plaid shirt that barely fit over his beer gut. He placed a meaty hand to the glass. She winced, moving away from the window. She worried about the amount of weight behind him. He’d be more capable of tearing his way into the police car than the woman.

  Bam! Bam! The man slammed the roof of the car with his fist. A bolt of fear shot straight down Amanda’s spine.

  Quickly glancing over her shoulder, she wished she could get into the backseat, but there was a barrier. Her eyes drifted to the glove box. In movies, cops kept guns in their glove box. Or was that mobsters? She wasn’t sure. Leaning forward she tried to open it. Locked.

  “Damn it!” she shrieked. Again, the man banged down on the roof of the car. “Go away!” she yelled at the window. “Leave me alone!”

  Her screaming riled the man up. He then began pounding on the roof with both of his fists. Bam! Bam! Bam!

  Amanda could also hear the woman. She was now banging on the glass.

  “Oh shit!” Amanda screamed when she noticed an extra set of hands on the passenger side window. The car began to rock.

  She then watched as a young man in a Metallica T-shirt, and tattoo-sleeved arms, crawled up onto the hood of the police car and began to yank at the windshield wipers.

  “Go away!” she screamed, moving away from the windows. She was now sitting on the center console with her back pressed against the barrier that kept her from being able to hide in the backseat.

  “Leave me alone!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone…”

  More people surrounded the car, drawn to the commotion. There were so many of them that their bodies were blocking out the street lamps, leaving Amanda in the dark. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs.

  Amanda’s heart fluttered at a new sound. It was the sound of a handle being pulled. Someone was trying to open one of the doors. It was a distinct sound. Which door? Her body was trembling, but she forced herself to hold still and focus on which door the sound was coming from. She forced herself to focus her senses. Her eyes shifted from side to side. It was too dark to see anything. She concentrated on separating the sounds.

  Then she heard it again. Click, click… The handle lifted and was then let go of. It was hard to tell which door was trying to be opened over the loud snarling, growling, and banging.

  Click, click… Her ears perked as she pinpointed the direction of the sound.

  The passenger side door.

  The handle lifted again. She flung herself to the passenger seat, ready to grab the door from the inside, if someone were to open it. She clutched the door and held her breath. The handle lifted… and released… lifted… and released. She then heard tugging. She let out her breath. Nothing happened. The door was locked.

  Melting like butter, Amanda slithered onto the floor by the glove box. Her knees were pressed to her chest. There was nowhere to hide from the monsters outside. She tried her best to make herself invisible. Squeezing her eyes shut, she remembered the last time she’d played hide and seek with her nephew. He was three. She’d pretended to be looking all over the apartment for him as he giggled, standing in the corner of the room, with his eyes closed. She remembered how funny that was. He’d actually thought she couldn’t see him because he couldn’t see her.

  Amanda heard another bang on the glass rousing her from the comforting thoughts of playing hide and seek with her nephew. At the time, she’d felt put out because she hadn’t wanted to babysit. She’d had plans to go out with Jasper and had to cancel at the last minute. Right now, she’d give anything to be home babysitting Johnny. She wondered how her sister was doing. Were she and Johnny okay? Were they with mom? She hadn’t spoken to her sister or her mother since that night. Amanda had begrudgingly taken care of Johnny because she’d felt she had to, and then later she’d let her sister have it, when she returned home. At the time, she’d felt her sister had purposely signed up for extra hours at work, just to keep her from going out with Jasper. It was no secret how much her sister and mother hated Jasper. They believed he was the same as her ex-husband, if not worse. But he wasn’t, Amanda thought. He wasn’t nearly as bad. He actually loved me.

  This time the banging sound was louder than any of the previous hits. She prayed that the glass of the windows stayed intact. Once the glass was broken, she’d be in trouble. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she heard the shattering of glass. She looked up from her hiding place on the floor. The back windshield had given way. She was now thankful for the barrier between the front and backseats.

  Closing her eyes, she pretended she was invisible, just like Johnny had done. If she made it out of the police car alive, she’d call her family. It’d been over six months since she’d last spoken to any of them.

  Amanda focused on keeping her eyes squeezed shut. She hoped that after a while the infected would forget she was in there and wander off after some other unfortunate soul. That was when her mind drifted to Jasper. Was he out there wandering the streets, attacking innocent people? Was he amongst the infected banging on the car? She hated to think of him like that. It tore her up inside. Amanda began to cry.

  Chapter 15

  He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t. Bill stared at his son who was thrashing about, wrestling against the restraints. It tore at his heartstrings to see his little body bound. Nevertheless, for being so small, restraining him had been a challenge. It took a while, but he’d finally managed to do it. He had had to wrestle Benjamin to the ground while being careful not to get bit. Then he snapped on a set of handcuffs that’d been, until then, used for a fun fantasy of cops and robbers that he and his wife had played. He tried not to think of his Joanna's lifeless body still lying in a pool of blood on the floor of his son’s room.

  Bill opened the coat closet where he’d stashed his son, trying to settle him down, while he thought things over. Benjamin was both handcuffed and gagged, leaning in the corner.

  For the last two hours, Benjamin bashed his small body against the door and the walls of the closet while Bill had sat on the sofa, gun in his hands, trying to figure out what to do. He couldn’t kill his son. He couldn’t. Even though he hadn’t much hope afte
r everything he’d seen on the news earlier, he just couldn’t get himself to do it. What the hell was he going to do? He’d already lost Joanna. He couldn’t lose Benjamin, too. No. He had to do something, but what? What would Joanna want him to do? She’d want him to take care of their son. She gave her life trying to take care of him.

  That thought made up his mind. He’d do what Joanna would’ve wanted him to do. He wanted to honor his wife’s last wish. She gave her life taking care of their son. She would want him to do whatever he could in his power to save Benjamin.

  “Hey, buddy,” Bill said, staring into the small closet. Jackets and hangers were piled on the floor around Benjamin’s feet from all of his thrashing about.

  Benjamin’s eyelids flickered open at the sound of his father’s voice. The boy’s face was so puffy that Bill could barely see the yellow of his eyes. If he hadn’t known it was his son, he wouldn’t have recognized him.

  “How ya feeling?” Anxiety grew in the pit of his stomach, tearing away at the lining. He could feel his ulcer acting up.

  A grumbling noise rumbled in Benjamin’s small chest. Staring at him, Bill thought how little his son looked. How weak, and tiny. His baby boy had blood smeared across one of his cheeks and a dab on his forehead. Most of the blood was on his upper lip and soaked into the front of his pajamas. His nose was swollen, reddish purple, and crusted over. Bill frowned. With all of the thrashing, Benjamin had bashed his nose in pretty good. Bill hoped it wasn’t broken. However, he knew that a broken nose was an easy fix in comparison to whatever the hell this outbreak was that’d infected him.