The Z Strain

by Matthew Isaiah Crawford

  “Security to front desk.” Mark waited for a response that didn’t come, the quiet inside the stairwell was deafening. All he could hear was his own breath and heartbeat. “Security to front desk.” Another long agonizing moment later the radio squelched to life but screams and panic are all that could be heard. Moments later the fire alarm begins to sound, the emergency lights came on the stairwell and a very loud resounding wail echoed throughout the building. “What the fuck?” He asks himself. Jogging down to the next floor down he pushes gently against the door pushing it just enough to peek out into the hallway. He sees dozens of guests heading for the stairwells at the end of the hall. It didn’t take long before he heard screaming out on the floor. He heard a cacophony of voices in a panic, some shouting, some screaming, all moving quickly into the stairwell. He backed away from the hallway and opened the door to the small service closet that held all the towels and toiletries. He pulls the door closed behind him shutting himself into the room.

  He keyed his radio again “Security to anyone on the radio, anyone?”

  “Go ahead Mark, this is John.”

  “John, where are you?” Mark asked as he began to move down the stairs.

  “Room Service, heading outside, there’s a fire alarm.”

  “No, don’t do that, it’s not a fire, do not go outside, go to the back stairwell, meet me on the 5th floor by the elevators, and bring anyone else with you that you see, there’s some shit going on downstairs, we need to move fast.”

  “Are you joking Mark?”

  “No goddamn it, now move your ass as fast as you can and grab anyone else you see along the way! And be careful, arm yourself if you can!” John had never heard Mark swear of the radio, you could get fired for that. It sent a small wave of fear through his body.

  “Sure Mark, why, what’s going on?”

  “I don’t know John, but we need to get up to the guest floors now.” Moments later Mark moved out of the linen closet and began making his way down the service stairs to the 5th floor. He approached the grey door cautiously, peeking out the door slowly. He saw no movement in either direction. Exiting the service area, he moved around the corner to the left and peeked around the corner, a flash of the woman 26th floor rushed through his head, her insides dragging on the floor as she was trying to get to her feet. Mark rubbed his eyes and looked at the empty hallway in front of him. At the end of the hallway he saw the door open to the stairwell and watched as John, the room service attendant, Nick, the front desk manager, and Margaret, a front desk agent walked into the hallway. Mark walked towards them and then turned towards the elevator lobby about halfway down the hallway. They followed behind them flooding him with a myriad of questions from all three of them at once. “What’s going on here, what the hell are you up to, why did you call us up here?” Mark put his hands up to stifle the flow.

  “Look.” Mark said almost in a whisper, he pointed out the large picture window next to the elevators. As the group turned towards it, the window showed a view that lead all the way down Pennsylvania Avenue through the heart of downtown Pittsburgh. A stunned silence spread across the group as they all walked slowly closer the window. It took a few moments for them to register the scene that was playing out in front of them. The streets were engulfed in a scene of chaos, there were people flooding into the street from the hotel, and there were people being attacked everywhere. People bleeding, people running and screaming, people dying. Then moments later those people getting up and attacking other people.

  “Jesus” at least two of them said at the same time. Margaret pulled out her phone and dialed the police.

  “They’re not going to come.” Mark said calmly.

  “Why, why wouldn’t they come?” Margaret plead, she was crying, and her voice was bordering on hysterical. Her hands were in front of her face and they were shaking madly. Mark turned, and grabbed her gently by the shoulders, looking directly into her eyes.

  “Look outside, people are dying out there. People are dying out there and then getting up and attacking other people. The police are not going to make it through that. We’re on our own” Mark paused for a moment letting that thought seep in. “Now we need to act fast if we want to survive. The fire alarm was pulled, so all the elevators are going to the ground floor where they will stay until the fire department comes to unlock them, which they won’t. That means there are only three access points to the guest floors. We need to barricade all three stairwells as quickly as we can. The guest stairwells on either end I want to block on this floor. That will stop any access from the common areas. Then we’re going to clear the 3rd floor and block the service stairwell on the 3rd floor.”

  “Can we silence the alarm?” Steve asked over the blaring alarm, his hands pressed firmly over his ears.

  “Well, yea, we need a set of engineering keys. We’ll have to be careful going up to the elevator control panel too. Up on 26 there were two men attacking a woman, when they saw me, they came after me. So did she, and she was eviscerated.”

  “She was what?” asked Steve pulling his hands away from his ears for a moment.

  “Eviscerated, it means she was ripped open. Her insides were falling out.” Mark said

  “I thought you said she was coming after you.” Said Steve doubtingly.

  “She was. Her intestines were falling out of her, AND she was still coming after me.” Said Mark. “Are we not on the same page here? Like Zombies Steve, only real.”

  “Jesus Christ.” John said as he leaned against the wall and pushed his long black hair out of his face. “I can’t believe it, I don’t, I.” His head was shaking back and forth “This shit is really happening isn’t it? You’re seriously telling me it’s a fucking zombie apocalypse outside right now?” John’s voice cracked trying to get through the sentence.

  “Looks to be that way.” Mark said. He waited for a moment to see if John was done freaking out before continuing “Does anyone have a cell phone? I. I need to call my wife and kids, try to warn them.”

  “I do.” John and Steve said in unison. John had his phone out of his pocket and was holding it out. Mark looked at him with a look of sorrow and appreciation.

  “I know, call your kids man.” John said. Mark dialed the phone quickly and held the phone to his ear.

  “What about your Mom?”

  “I’ll call her next. It’s your kids Mark.”

  “Okay.” Steve turned from the conversation, directing his attention towards Margaret who was pacing back and forth next to the elevator.

  “Come one Steve, lets’ go get a room open near the stairwell.” John sighed

  “So, what’s the plan here? Were just going to jam furniture into the stairwell?” Asked Steve.

  “Unless you have a better plan, yeah.” John shrugged and shook his head. Steve was cool as a cucumber when it came to the ability to deescalate angry guests at the front desk, but right now he looked like he was ready to crack.

  “No, it’s good, just want to be sure it’s secure.” Steve said.

  “You okay man? You gonna be able to hold it together?”

  “Honestly I’m shitting my pants right now. I’ve never been good with blood and gore, and I can’t get the image from the 26th floor out of my head.”

  “Eviscerated.” John replied.

  “God don’t even say that word. I don’t know that I’d ever heard it before today, and I don’t know that I want to again.”

  “We’ll make sure it’s secure Steve.”

  “Damn it!” Mark exclaimed. “It keeps saying all lines are busy.”

  “Keep trying man.” John said. “We got this.” John turned to Steve. Margaret was strolling up behind them now. “Come one guys, let’s get this done.”

  John walks quickly to the second to last room of the hallway, room 530, directly across from the stairwell. He pushes his room service key card into the lock and instinctively knocks and announces himself as he entered the room. “Room service.” He called out. John cringed thin
king about how stupid he must sound. Pushing his head through the door he scans the empty room. “All right, it’s empty. If you want to just start grabbing all this furniture, I’ll start clearing the next rooms.” Steve and Margaret stepped past John and began moving the furniture into the stairwell. They were grabbing mattresses, tables, chairs, and lamps, and pushing them down the stairwell.

  “Amy, Amy Can you hear me?” Mark yells into the phone down the hall. “No, stop, listen, he’s not sick. No Fuck Amy, listen.” There’s a long pause. “Amy! Amy!” His hand falls away from his ear. His hand loses grip on the phone and it falls to the floor. “They’re dead. Jesus they’re all dead. My son was bit. My wife. My wife, she wouldn’t listen. I tried to tell her.”

  “Fuck, I’m sorry man.” John said walking towards Mark, he could see from ten feet away that he was crying.

  “I could hear my son screaming the background.” He sobbed.

  “Mark What can I do?” John asked putting his hand on Mark’s back.

  “Nothing.” He said taking a deep breath trying to regain his composure. “Nothing we can do.” He said wiping the tears from his cheeks. “They’re already gone. Call your mom.” Mark pressed the phone into John’s hand.” I’ll get to work. We have a lot to accomplish if we want to survive until dawn.”

  Mark moved to the next room from the end of the hallway, number 529 popping his key card into the door lock. The light turns green and he pushes down on the handle. He peeks his head through the door cautiously, finds it empty, and props the door open. He steps across the hall and repeated the process for room 528 peering into the room he saw nothing. He began pushing open the door against the wall to prop it open when the bathroom door begins to open, a pair of pale white boney hands grab ahold of Mark’s left arm. The hands, though old and frail, had incredible strength. They squeezed down hard enough to make Mark cry out from pain as well as shock.

  “Gaaaaa!”

  The icy fingers clamping down with such power that Mark thought his arm might break under the force. Desperately trying to pull his arm away he saw an old man’s face lunge out of the doorway trying to bite into Mark’s arm. His right hand fumbled for a moment pulling his flashlight off the loop on his belt.

  The old man’s mouth came down on his forearm. Mark finally had the flashlight out of his belt loop and raised it in the air. Bringing it down atop the old man’s bald skull it made a resounding crack that echoed through the quiet room. John had spun around the corner just in time to see the flashlight contact the skull. The old man fell lifelessly to the floor.

  “Holy shit! Are you okay?” Margaret exclaimed. Mark was checking his arm in a panic running his hands up and down the skin.

  “He bit me!” Mark was near panic.

  “Hey. Hey, look.” Margaret said pointing towards the bed. Mark turned and didn’t understand what he was pointing at. Then he saw it. A small glass filled with water on the side table. The old man’s dentures sitting in the clear fluid.

  “Jesus, he didn’t have teeth.” Mark said, realizing that he was going to be okay. “I thought I was a goner.”

  “You gonna be okay?” Margaret asked.

  “I don’t’ know. My heart is beating out of my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life.” John came walking up, dropping his phone into his front pocket.

  “Any luck?”

  “Nah man. Didn’t know what I expected. She’s gone too.”

  “I’m Sorry” Mark said”

  “So, what happened here?” John asked trying to change the topic.

  “Mark got bit.” Margaret said plainly

  “Are you shitting me? What are we going to do?” John was suddenly full of nervous energy.

  “It’s okay, the old fart didn’t have his teeth in.”

  “Holy shit. That’s not funny. You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Really though, it was too close.” Mark said rubbing his arm.

  “No shit man.” John nudged the body of the old man on the floor. “I think we need some better weapons.”

  “We’re going to need the keys from engineering anyway to turn off the alarm anyway. Let's get it done.” Mark said holstering his flashlight.

  Boulder Colorado, Boulder Medical Center

  Friday, August 16th 4:44 AM MST

  Dr. Andrea Martin had spent the early morning hours crammed behind an air conditioning unit with her newly acquired black .45 caliber handgun cradled against her chest. She had found it just prior to the security office being overrun last night. The security office had a ladder in the back office that led directly to the roof. She had stood there for some time to ensure that they weren’t going to follow her up the ladder. After a few minutes she decided that it was going to be safe on the roof. She closed the metal door and hid herself as best she could in case something else were to happen onto the roof. Now the light was beginning to play on the horizon, and Andrea had been periodically checking the parking lot to see if it would be safe to go to her car. Unfortunately, there had been quite a few of them outside in the early morning hours. Andrea heard a car come into the parking lot, she guessed it was a little after three in the morning. A young man pulled up in front of the hospital with a screech. He jumped out and yelled for help. Within seconds they had swarmed the car, killing whomever was inside. The guy had run off on foot, and a bunch of them had followed. That cleared a bunch of them out. She watched as a pregnant woman emerged from the car staggering through the parking lot a few minutes later. A little after sun up, she had finally made the decision that she had to move, she couldn’t stay on this roof any longer, and the path to the car was currently clear. Not by a lot, but clear. She got her car keys ready in her hand, she could see her little blue sedan sitting out on the outskirts of the parking lot. She lifted her leg over the side of the building and her feet found the metal rung for the ladder.

  As she reaches the ground she moves cautiously, keeping her back to the building. She ducks beneath the window. A man with a red t-shirt and a hole in his cheek standing close enough to see her. He lunges for her pushing through the glass of the window. It shatters and he topples out after her. Andrea tries to scurry away, but two more follow. She finally gains enough of a footing to crab walk away from the window in a panic. She can’t help but notice that she recognizes the second one that came through the window. He was an orderly named Richard and he was a really nice guy. She remembered the he was a Dolphins fan, and he had a tattoo of the logo on his shoulder. His left eye had apparently been bludgeoned inward, a gaping hole remained that oozed with dark red fluid. A large portion of the side of his neck was also missing. The muscles can be seen moving underneath the gaping wound. He strained to reach Andrea trying to crawl from underneath several others that had now followed out the window, all with visible mortal wounds.

  Dr. Martin gets to her feet and runs through the parking lot. The sound of the broken window caught the attention of some wandering nearby, she could see at least a dozen heading towards her from different parts of the parking lot. She runs to her little blue Nissan and unlocks the door. Jumping inside she pulls the door closed just before a man in a brown suit slams into the side of the car. Andrea turns the ignition, the engine fires to life. Pulling down the gear shift she pushes her foot down on the pedal. She can see a crowd of over thirty gathered in the parking lot now following her down the street, slowly fading in the distance.

  She looks left and right, seeing cars crashed on the side of the road, and bodies in the street. Her mind is racing, where to go? Where to go? One person comes to mind, someone she knew had weapons. Someone she knew had a heavy-duty Ford Bronco with oversized tires. Someone she had hoped never to see again. Her ex-boyfriend Marcus.

  Atlanta Georgia

  Friday, August 16th, 6:53 AM EST

  Steve Brehman is the picture of a stereotypical middle-aged lawyer. He has high blood pressure, poor cholesterol, he’s balding, and takes a little blue pill for his erectile dysfunction. He’s curr
ently working on a very big case for his firm. A case that begins promptly Monday morning, and he believes this case is going to be the one that finally gets him promoted, he’d been trying like hell to make partner for the last three years. They moved him to a lofty suite on the 32nd floor, a corner office with a panoramic view of downtown Atlanta. A solid oak door and a large desk. A pretty blonde secretary named Sue that sits right outside his office door, anticipating his every need, she works nearly as many late hours as he does, as a matter of fact, anyone who’s trying to make a name for themselves at this firm understands that it comes along with eighty- or hundred-hour work weeks. Their firm handles the defense for several local corporations, not to mention many of the well to do families of the southeast. Anyone who is anyone in the south, and commits’ a felony, simply has to be represented by Douglas, McCabe, and Associates. Steve never much cared for all the bureaucracy and name dropping that went on around here, but he’s found, as well as most people, that almost everyone has their price. And this firm will pay that price and then some, but they expected your eternal soul in return.

  This morning Steve had arrived in his office at a little after five in the morning to finish up some last-minute paperwork. His head shoots up from his desk in a shot as a loud thump comes from the hallway. He pushes his large black chair away from his mahogany desk and gets to his feet. He marches over the door with purpose expecting to see a maintenance worker or something, but in the office next door he sees a pair of legs lying on the ground adorned with brown wingtip shoes. A pair of shoes he knows belong to one of the senior partners, then it was suddenly being drug into the doorway. His heart immediately leapt up into his throat. Closing the door as quietly as he can, he returns to his desk and picks up the phone, dialing 9-1-1.