Fatal Reaction, The Beginning

by M A Hollstein

  On unsteady legs, Bill walked up to the car that he’d rear-ended. The front of that car was pushed up into the car in front of it. He gazed in the passenger window. No one was inside. The driver’s side door was open. There was another car to the right of it, that’d been facing oncoming traffic. Bill forgot about his pain and jaunted towards it. He thought he could make out a figure inside.

  “Oh my God,” he gasped. There was blood on the windshield. “Hey! You okay?” He knocked on the glass. The person in the driver’s seat didn’t move. The headlights of the car facing it, gave off just enough light for Bill to be able to see blood and someone with dark hair in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. He tugged at the door handle. It was locked. He pounded on the window. Still no movement. He looked around, still unable to believe with the amount of cars that were piled up, that no one was around. Where the hell was everyone?

  “I’ll get you help!” he yelled to the person through the glass, unsure of whether he or she was dead or alive. He couldn’t just leave them there without knowing. He walked around the mass of cars in a daze, looking for something or someone.

  Bill cringed when he saw it. He covered his mouth, as bile rose in his throat. The carnage was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Dead bodies were strewn in the freeway amongst the cars, and pools of dark blood were highlighted in the headlights of a deserted tow truck on the side of the road. A strong scent of iron, wafting on the cool, damp air, penetrated his senses and turned his stomach. Bill limped towards the tow truck as he looked around for the driver. He was nowhere to be seen. Glancing back over his shoulder, he wondered if the tow truck driver was one of the many bodies scattered across the freeway. Bill was curious to get a closer look at them, but not curious enough. He couldn’t get up the nerve to get any closer. Were they attacked by the infected? He worried that whatever got these poor souls, was still lurking about.

  Cautiously, Bill approached the tow truck. The door had been left open a crack; lights were on in the cab and the keys in the ignition. Bill looked around the cab and climbed up inside. This truck was his best bet to get Benjamin to the hospital. He could drive it along the side of the freeway to avoid most of the cars. Sitting up in the cab, he looked at the cars in front of them. They were all abandoned. Most were just left there. Since it was so dark, he couldn’t see very far. He could only see what was in the headlights or the light of the moon when it peaked in and out of the clouds. Still feeling a bit woozy after the accident, Bill tried to focus his energy. He remembered the person trapped in their car that might or might not be alive. Searching around, he found a crowbar on the floorboards of the backseat. He grabbed the cold metal and rushed as fast as his injuries would allow, in the direction of the car.

  For some reason, getting back to that car felt like it was taking an eternity. His darn leg was beginning to stiffen and his head was throbbing. When he finally reached the car, he smacked the window a couple times with the palm of his hand trying to alert the driver. “Hey! I’m back!” The person inside, didn’t move. Bill edged his way around the car to the passenger side. He took a step back and swung the metal bar at the window shattering it. He swung again and glass crumbled. “Hey!” he yelled into the window. “I’m gonna get you out of there.”

  Reaching into the car, Bill unlocked and opened the door. Still no movement. Cautious, he poked at his or her shoulder with the end of the crowbar. He didn’t want to take any chances on the person being infected. There was still no movement. Gaining courage, Bill leaned in and got a better look. It was a woman. She was leaning forward. Her hair covering her face. He clutched her cold arm and then her wrist. As far as he could tell, no pulse.

  Sighing, Bill got out of the car and stared in the direction of his own car. A sudden memory flashed before his eyes causing great concern. He’d left the door open. His heart began to race. Hadn’t he unlatched Benjamin’s seatbelt? Pushing past his pain, he imagined the worst, and dragged his leg that no longer wanted to move, as he headed for his car. His mind played tricks on him as he imagined Benjamin wandering along the freeway, disoriented and alone, carrying his stuffed bear. Then he remembered that Benjamin was still handcuffed and gagged to keep from hurting anyone else. More than likely, he wouldn’t be able to get too far. To Bill’s relief and horror, Benjamin was right where he’d left him. He hadn’t moved and panic hit him hard like a ton of bricks. Was he breathing? Bill frantically touched the boy’s forehead and cheeks. He was still burning up with a fever. He felt for the pulse in his neck and was relieved when he found it. Benjamin was still alive.

  “Come on, son,” Bill said, softly. He set the crowbar on the roof of the car and then leaned down. He slipped his arms around the little boy and grunted as he hoisted him out of the backseat. Benjamin didn’t make a sound. Bill was having a hard time distributing his weight since his left leg was somewhat useless. He leaned against the car for support and slung Benjamin over his shoulder. The boy’s body was limp, as if it were nothing more than a mere ragdoll. Once Bill felt he had a good enough grip on Benji, he grabbed the stuffed bear. The bear had always been like a security blanket to his son, so he didn’t want to leave it behind, and the crowbar was for his own security. He then began to make his slow, somewhat unbalanced descent, to the tow truck.

  Fire was still blazing out of control to his right. Bill glanced in the direction of the flames. The buildings were far enough away, that he wasn’t too worried about it reaching them. It just seemed eerie not to see any firemen trying to put out the flames. Hell, he wasn’t even seeing any people running about anymore. Again, he wondered how long he’d been unconscious since the accident. He remembered, right before the crash, having seen the Walmart on fire and people running about looting the place. At the time, Walmart was the only store on fire. Now, from what he could see, every building in that shopping center was on fire and spreading along the freeway. They’d had a very dry summer, more so than the usual, and all of Southern California had been in a drought. The dry grass and weeds were all ablaze and the light ocean breeze wasn’t helping to contain it.

  Again, Bill wondered what had happened to all the people. He couldn’t get over it. They were all gone. He tried not to dwell on it and focused his energy on carrying Benjamin. The tow truck was just up ahead. He could see the headlights. He probably should’ve shut them off to prevent draining the battery. He had no idea of how long the tow truck had been sitting there with the lights on before he’d discovered it.

  “We’re almost there, Sport,” he said, picking up speed. Seeing the truck growing closer, gave him hope. Soon, he’d get his son to the hospital. And while he was there, he’d get his own injuries taken care of. He only wished that his wife had been so lucky. He still felt numb. Like she wasn’t really gone. And none if it had really happened. But it did happen. What was he going to tell Benjamin? How would he break the news to him? Would he remember what had happened? Bill shook his head. He could never tell him. Not how she died. He’d take that knowledge with him to the grave. No one needed to know. Not ever!

  Bill set the crowbar on top of the cab freeing his hand so he could yank open the driver’s side door. He set Benjamin down, propping him up in the seat. He then limped around to the passenger side and pulled at the door handle. It was locked. Frustrated, because he felt that he’d been wasting valuable time, he slugged the door, and then made his way back to the driver’s side. He quickly decided it might be easier to just lift Benjamin over the center console and into the passenger seat. He struggled a bit, but eventually managed to get the little boy settled into the other seat. Bill was leaning across the console, pulling the seatbelt over his son’s chest, when he felt something grip his leg. Almost simultaneously, he heard a guttural growl. Chills encompassed his body and goose bumps covered his flesh.

  “What the…!” Bill turned to look over his shoulder while instinctively kicking his leg. Forgetting his pain, he flipped himself over and kicked again. A woman with a mass of ta
ngled red hair was clawing at his legs. Her fingernails were raking his jeans. Bill kicked her hard in the stomach with his good leg, knocking her back. But within seconds the woman was up on her feet, pouncing on him, grabbing hold of his injured leg. Bill screamed out in pain. He looked for the crowbar and remembered having set it on top of the cab. The woman’s teeth chomped down on his calf. Bill could feel the strength of her bite through the denim. He prayed that the material was thick enough to keep her from puncturing his skin. The last thing he needed was to become infected himself. With his good foot, he kicked her hard in the head. The woman lost her balance and stumbled backwards in her high heels, twisting her ankle in an unreal way. Bill cringed, hearing the snap of her bones. Reaching for the door handle, he slammed the door shut. The woman quickly regained her balance and rushed at the truck. She pressed her distorted face to the glass and began to chomp, drooling all over the surface.

  Turning the keys in the ignition, Bill was both thankful and surprised, when the truck engine easily roared to life. At least something is going in my favor, he thought. He took off, driving along the side of the highway, trying to get around the pile up of cars. The crazed woman chased after them, dragging her broken ankle. He figured, by the time they’d reach the hospital, even though he wasn’t that far away, it’d be morning. Bill was hopeful that tomorrow would be a better day.

  Day Two

  Chapter 17

  Amanda groaned. She reached back and rubbed at her sore neck. She’d slept in an odd position, curled up in a ball on the floor on the passenger side of the car. It took her a second to remember where she was. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her face buried in her arms. She’d been too petrified to even breathe let alone move. The infected stopped pounding on the car long ago, yet she couldn’t get up the nerve to move. She was too afraid that they’d hear her and come back. At some point, in the wee hours of the morning, exhaustion had taken over and she’d passed out.

  Morning sunlight drifted through the thick haze of fog coming in from the ocean. In San Diego they called it June Gloom, even though it was now early August. The sky reminded her of a typical June Gloom sort of morning. The haze would burn off by midday. Amanda was staring up out of the window from the floor. She couldn’t see much, except for the sky and some buildings. She was still too afraid to get up, but she needed to. Now she felt extreme pain in her back and legs, and her left buttock was numb. She needed to get up and stretch. And she also needed to find a restroom. Stupid bodily functions! she thought, frowning. The last thing she wanted to do was find a place to go to the bathroom.

  Amanda stayed still and listened. She felt like her hearing was hypersensitive. Her ears tingled in response. If a pin dropped a block from there, she’d bet her bottom dollar that she’d hear it. The strange thing was, no matter how hard she listened, she wasn’t hearing anything. Just silence. She wasn’t hearing voices, vehicles, nothing. It was so bizarre. Wait… a bird. She suddenly heard chirping. At least she could hear something familiar. It was a little consoling, but not much. Where were all the people? She was downtown, close to the freeway. She should be hearing the everyday noise of traffic. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Lifting herself up, Amanda slid as quietly as she could into the passenger seat of the cop car. Her body hurt like hell and she desperately wanted to scream out. Instead, she bit her tongue and rubbed again at the painful knots in her neck and shoulders while examining the damage done to the car.

  Dried blood and saliva was smeared all over the driver’s side window. Amanda cringed. She then looked at the back window and sucked in a deep breath. She quickly turned around and scooted back as far away as she could until the middle of her back was pressed against the glove box. The rear window had been shattered and there was a man lying across the opening into the backseat. His legs were still sticking out the rear window. She watched him for a moment. He wasn’t moving.

  Amanda tried to calm her heart. Whenever she felt overly anxious, her heart began to palpitate. She began experiencing these palpitations a couple of years ago when she’d gone through her divorce from a scum bucket of a husband. Stress seemed to be the number one trigger. Her ex had made her life a living hell during their numerous years of marriage, the mental and emotional abuse scarring her indefinitely. And then he’d made sure to make their divorce just as painful and miserable. She was forever grateful that they’d never had children together and once the divorce had been finalized, she never had to see him again.

  Pressing her hand to her heart, Amanda concentrated on breathing steadily while keeping her eyes trained on the man in the plaid shirt. He still wasn’t moving. From what she could tell, he wasn’t even breathing. She zeroed in on his back, watching carefully, to see if his ribcage moved. It didn’t. She then noticed the blood and glass. At first glance, the glass had blended in, coated with dried blood. A shard of it was protruding from the man’s side. He must’ve impaled himself when climbing through the rear windshield.

  “Serves you right, bastard,” she whispered, getting up the courage to move closer to the barrier that was separating the backseat of the cop car from the front. The man’s lifeless head was turned, facing her direction. His unseeing eyes were wide open, a yellowish white in color. Dark, thick blood had oozed from his mouth, staining his puffed up lips.

  Amanda wrapped her arms over her chest and shivered. She glanced out all of the windows and didn’t see anyone else about. She wondered where she should go now. Should she try the hospital again? No, she thought. Best to stay clear of the hospital. She’d try walking back home. Maybe, on the way, she’d come across someone that could help her.

  Not wanting to leave the safety of the cop car, but knowing she had to, Amanda, got up the courage and unlocked the passenger door. She closed her eyes, took a deep, calming breath, and pushed open the door. To her surprise, it only opened a crack, and then it wouldn’t budge.

  “What the… ?” Amanda pushed the door again. Thump! The door was hitting something. She pulled it back and then pushed it open again. Thud! Amanda looked down at the ground and could see an arm, a man’s arm with lots of hair, and then a shoulder, and long straggly black hair. She’d been banging the door against someone’s head. Startled, she squealed, and let go of the door. The body didn’t move. She quickly realized she’d left the car door open, and then slammed the door closed.

  She climbed over the console into the driver’s seat and pressed her forehead against the glass as she peered out the window through the smeared blood. Her stomach lurched. Dead bodies. They were everywhere.

  Panicked, Amanda began to hyperventilate. The mob of infected people, the ones that’d been trying to get into the car last night, were all dead. All of them. Her heart pounded in her ears and her breathing was fast and erratic. She sat down in the seat and leaned forward to put her head between her knees, but the darn steering wheel was in the way. She slammed her fist against the steering wheel and began to cry.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” she whispered, trying to catch her breath. “Calm down.” Her body wouldn’t listen and her stomach lurched again. She tried to force herself to think of something positive about her situation. If all of the infected are dead, then no one can hurt me. That’s positive, right? she asked herself. Wrong!

  Her mind then drifted to Jasper and tears streamed down her cheeks. Did that mean that Jasper was dead, too? He was infected. Poor Jasper. Was it a painful death? Maybe, just maybe, he’d made it into the hospital and was okay. Maybe there were only some infected people in the hospital and the upper floors were safe. Again, she thought of trying to enter the hospital. If the infected people trying to get into the cop car last night were dead, then more than likely, the infected people within the hospital would be dead, too.

  Amanda took in a few more deep breaths and lifted her head. With the back of her hand, she swiped at her tears. She was still feeling a little light headed, but at least she knew what she had to do. She’d try the hospital one
more time before walking home. Maybe some doctors and nurses had been holed up all night, along with those that’d been cured, like Jasper. Yes, she thought. Just like Jasper. Besides, she really needed to find a restroom. And she knew she could find one in the hospital. She’d be fine. Jasper would be fine. The infected were dead, and the living would be around to help her. Everything would be okay and life would soon go back to normal.

  Taking in another deep breath, she forced herself to believe going to the hospital was what she needed to do. She opened the driver’s side door until it hit a woman’s body lying nearby. Amanda sat there for a moment making sure the woman in the blue dress with the paisley flowers didn’t move. She nudged the body again with the door. No movement. On stiff, yet wobbly legs, Amanda’s bare feet stepped onto the cold asphalt. Her eyes widened in disbelief, as she took in the amount of dead bodies scattered around her; old, young, men, women, and children. Too many children. Oh God, Amanda whispered. She closed her eyes and forced herself to gain courage against the horror. Upon reopening her eyes, she cringed and her stomach lurched. Flies were already beginning to collect and an acrid odor was developing. Amanda covered her mouth and nose with her hand, using it as a makeshift filter against the pungent smell. She forced herself to hold back the bile rising in her throat and began to carefully hop over the distorted, puffed up bodies. With each step, she worried that one of the infected may not be dead yet and would attack her.

  ***

  Ellie awoke lying down in the reclined passenger seat. She turned to see Mike Wilson sound asleep in the driver’s seat. It ended up that the manager of the motel owned a lemon of a car that was not only on its last legs, but had less than an eighth of a tank of gas. They’d only gotten maybe ten miles away from the motel when the entire car began to shake and shudder. Mike had been cussing up a storm when the car died and Ellie had been rethinking their decision to head for the sheriff station. She wished they had decided to have stayed the night in the motel. It would’ve been safer.