If you wanted gas, or some fast food, the only options were to be found along the highway.
They used to have a small movie theater, but that shut down over a decade ago. The building was left untouched and started showing its derelict state, with grass growing through the cracks in the concrete near the entrance, and many of the glass windows broken in front of the boards that were installed as an afterthought.
There used to be a steel shop too. The truth was that this town was dwindling.
There was a small school, the sheriffs’ office, a small legion which doubled as the community center, and a couple of motels clinging to the highway for their business. Like most of the town was.
The biggest investment the town made in the last three years was the sign on the highway. Some all-too-common slogan plastered on it in garish colors, in a feeble attempt to tempt people to turn off and spend a few of their dollars.
That was pretty much it. The town was dying.
Romy had arrived four years ago, to take on the assistant manager role at the bank. Four years, and she was still that ‘new person’. An outsider...
Romy was also the only African American in town, and therefore quite a curiosity. She was tall, and rather athletic. Being in her early thirties made her the object of many advances by the local hound dogs, and she literally had to beat them off with a stick during her first year in town. The constant attention forced her to keep to herself. Which made her even more of an outsider. She had heard that one of the farmers had married an African American and their kids were mulatto, and in a fit of desperation had driven out to their farm, only to sit in front of their driveway, change her mind, and head back to town feeling stupid.
She rented a basement suite from the Baxters. They were nice folks. Older. All their kids had spread their wings and left the house. And didn’t stop there, as they flew as fast and far away from this town as they could. Now the Baxters were alone in a house that was too big for them.
They treated Romy well, and mostly just let her be.
Well, up until that day.
Romy had been watching the events unfolding worldwide on the little tv in her basement suite. The bank had shut down the day before. A bunch of people had fled town to go to the nearest ‘safe zone’.
Not Romy. She really had no place to go, anyway. Her parents died six years ago in a plane crash and her older brother got shot the year before that. He had a son. Her nephew. That was the only family she had, but she had not spoken with him or his mom for over a year.
She had a couple of friends in Chicago that she’d talked to. They convinced her that things would not be better in any city. So, she prepared herself. Romy was no survivalist, but she had a couple of good guns and some decent gear.
Her most prized gun was also her smallest. It was a Micro Desert Eagle. The thing was a super compact, .380 automatic pistol cartridge or APC. It was this gun that she immediately grabbed when she heard the loud bang upstairs.
It was about an hour before sunrise, and still pitch black inside the house. Romy slipped out of her bed, gun in hand. She stood still in the darkness for a moment, listening. There was at least one person moving around up there. Her first thought was that somebody had broken in.
Oh shit, the Baxters!
They would not be able to defend themselves. They were both in their sixties and not very mobile, due to them being obese.
Dressed in boxer shorts and a tank top, Romy stepped into her kitchen. The door beside the fridge led to the stairs.
She opened the door as quietly as possible, then hesitated there as she got a pinching pain in her stomach. She held her hand on her stomach until the pain passed. She had a similar cramp last night before going to bed but put it off as indigestion. The moment of hesitation allowed her to listen quietly though. She detected no sound from upstairs anymore.
Romy stood at the bottom of those stairs for a moment, stuck in indecision.
Did I imagine it? Or maybe that was just Dave or Mary-Sue...
She had to find out, so she crept up the stairs. She made it to the landing. The door was still shut and locked there.
If somebody broke in, they didn’t come through the back door
A few more stairs led her to the door leading to the Baxters’ kitchen. She put her hand on the door handle. It would be unlocked, she knew that.
She looked down and could see faint light streaming under the door. At least one of the lights upstairs was on. She turned the handle and with one smooth motion moved into the kitchen.
Nothing.
The light was coming from around the corner. Probably the bedroom or bathroom. Things were very quiet.
Way too quiet. What the fuck! Romy took a slow deep breath to calm herself and inched out of the kitchen into the adjacent living room. There was nobody there either. From where she was standing, the front door looked shut and locked.
She turned to the hallway. Light shone down the hallway at her from the open doorway of the bathroom.
None of it made sense. Then she saw the naked back of Mary-Sue as the large woman stepped partially into view.
“Mary-Sue?” Romy said in a small voice.
The reaction was instant. Mary-Sue turned her head sharply to face Romy.
Romy gasped when she saw Mary-Sue’s bulged out eyes and wide-open mouth.
Without hesitation, Mary-Sue charged. Her large size and lack of full coordination prevented her from fitting cleanly through the bathroom door though, as she collided hard with the door frame. She fell down with a large crash, half in and half out of the bathroom.
Romy took a step forward out of concern.
But Mary-Sue was already getting to her knees. She faced Romy. Her nose sat sideways on her face, smashed as she hit the ground. She had put her teeth through her top lip. But the worst was her lower jaw. She had clearly broken it, and it hung at an unnatural angle.
That didn’t seem to faze Mary-Sue as she started getting to her feet.
“Mary-Sue! Oh my god!”
Mary-Sue snapped her jaw – or at least the one side that wasn’t broken. Blood spurted from her mouth, and she lunged forward once more.
Romy hesitated, then raised her gun. Too late. Mary-Sue slammed into Romy. The sheer size of the woman sent Romy spinning away. Mary-Sue hit the ground face first once again, Romy fell backward over the back of the couch. The couch seats cushioned her fall somewhat, but she whacked her hip hard on the edge of the coffee table.
Romy scrambled to her feet. Mary-Sue was also getting to her feet. Her face was hardly recognizable anymore.
Romy had somehow hung on to her gun. She raised the weapon, spread her stance, and shot the big woman in the chest. The noise was incredibly loud in the confined space.
Mary-Sue jerked backwards slightly from the impact. Then lurched forward towards Romy.
Romy shot again. Then a second time.
Mary-Sue reached the couch and let herself fall forward over the back. Romy danced backward a couple of steps. She hit the wall with her back. Mary-Sue rolled off the coffee table and crashed onto the floor. She immediately started rising to her feet again.
Romy couldn’t believe her eyes. She had shot the woman three times center mass.
She only had three bullets left.
Without thinking, she raised her aim and squeezed off two shots into Mary-Sue’s face. The first shot nearly blew apart the large woman’s face, entering through the nose cavity into the top jaw and out the back of her neck. The second shot entered her head just below her hairline and never exited. She immediately dropped lifelessly to the ground.
Romy stayed frozen in place, still aiming her gun at the corpse.
She was breathing fast. Too fast. She was hyperventilating.
Slow down Romy Steward. She told herself. Deep breaths.
It still took her several moments to calm down enough. She looked up past the corpse, down the hall.
Where is Dave? Is he also like this?
Romy
realized that she only had one bullet left in her gun. She ran. She sprinted through the kitchen and flew down the stairs. Once into her own place, she quickly gathered up her spare mag. She slammed it into place, leaving the extra bullet in the chamber.
She really wanted to bring her Glock G19 as well, but there was no place to put the gun. She quickly decided to throw on her pants. Then decided to put on socks and runners too.
She put the Glock in her back pocket and made her way back upstairs. Romy forced herself to stay calm. She took slow measured steps, and slow deep breaths. She had heard no sound from upstairs.
She entered the hallway and faced the Baxters’ bathroom once more, only sparing a quick glance for the dead body on the other side of the couch. She was ready this time.
She walked up to the bathroom. There was a second door in the bathroom that led to the Baxters’ bedroom. Their idea of an en-suite. Romy glanced through the door and saw something on the bed. It was Dave. He wasn’t moving.
Romy stepped through the bathroom and felt along the wall for the light switch. She flicked it and bathed the room in light.
Dave’s face was almost blue. He was dead. Romy called out to him softly, to see if he would stir as his wife had. But Dave was most certainly dead. Romy was no doctor, but she guessed that the big man had had a heart attack or something.
Romy shook her head sadly. Another cramp was building up in her gut as she looked at the dead man. Her thoughts drifted from Dave to Mary-Sue.
Had she just been distraught with Dave’s death? Was that why she attacked? Oh shit! am I a murderer? Romy started second guessing everything that had happened. Then, with panic rising, she noticed the red and blue lights shining in.
Romy didn’t know what to do. She ran out of the bedroom to the living room. She threw open the front door and stepped out towards the police car that was parked in front of the house. She didn’t think about the gun still in her hand.
Then there was a bright light behind her eyes, followed by pain all over her body. The world slowed down. She had no control of her limbs as she fell over. Waves of energy passed through her until she could no longer stand it and slipped into darkness.
ALL WAS QUIET. ROMY opened her eyes and saw white. A white ceiling. She turned her head slightly, and pain lanced through her head and down her neck. The pain faded and her vision returned. More white. White walls, this time. And metal bars, painted white.
Wait a sec!
Romy shifted her body. There was pain. Everywhere. She slowed her movements down, and individual pains started to make themselves known. Her hip hurt, and her elbow. Romy felt her hip. It felt bruised. She lifted her elbow. It was scraped, but it didn’t look bad.
Ever so slowly, Romy shifted her body to sit up on the cot she was lying on. She swung her legs, so her feet touched the ground. She noticed that one of her shoes had been removed. It lay in the far corner of the cell.
Yes. A cell. I’m in jail.
Slowly, other pains started making themselves known. Her wrist was sore, for one. It also felt like she had scratched the side of her face and her ear. ... And her breasts were sore?
Romy was confused. She stole a glance down her tank top but couldn’t really see anything. She felt her breasts. Yes, they were definitely sore. Bruised. Like somebody had squeezed them too hard!
Romy started putting the picture together. She looked down and noticed that the button and zipper of her pants were undone.
Oh no ... Oh no!
But thankfully, she didn’t feel sore down there.
Somebody must have tried to take her pants off – but failed or was interrupted.
Oh my god I almost got raped... Romy started to tear up. But then stopped herself. Get yourself together, Romy Steward. Do not show them weakness.
She steeled herself. Romy stood up and buttoned and zipped up her pants. She walked to the corner of the cell and grabbed her sneaker. She put it on, walked up to the cell door and tried it.
Locked. Of course. Fuck. She rattled the cell.
“You! Son of a Bitch! Open this Fucking door! I’ll fucking kill you!” She got so angry that she was spitting her words.
But there was nobody to hear her. She screamed out her frustration and hit the bars.
“FUCK! OW!” She cradled her injured wrist and marched in small circles, overcome by the pain for a few seconds. The pain was good. It helped her focus. She sat down on the cot once the pain had subsided enough. She looked at her surroundings again.
She was definitely alone, in the sheriff’s office.
She knew the sheriff. Anderson. White-haired pudgy guy. He was friendly enough, and had a large family including grandkids.
He had two deputies. Ruiz. Seemed like a stand-up guy. Married, with kids. Always polite and professional.
Then there was Parson. Younger guy. He’d hit on her once back in her first year in Willemtown.
Could be him... Control your anger, Romy. She felt herself getting mad again but forced it down.
Nothing happened for the next ten minutes, and nothing happened for the next hour. Romy had just started to doze off when she heard a noise. Somebody was coming. She heard a car pull in and stop, then a car door open and slam shut. She got up off her cot.
Somebody stepped into the building. Romy backed up a step. The footsteps rapidly approached. Romy found that she had backed up to the far wall of the cell.
A police officer stepped in front of the jail cell. Deputy Ralf Parson stood at the cell door and looked at Romy. She tensed up.
But then she noticed something she did not expect to see in Ralph’s face. Concern.
“Romy. Are you ok? Here, let me get this cell open.” He continued before she could speak. He lifted the key in his hand.
“Hold on!” Romy yelled. Ralph froze, the key inches from the lock. He looked up and met Romy’s eyes.
“You know.” Ralph’s statement was filled with shame.
“You’re damn right I know!”
“It wasn’t me, Romy. Please. Believe me.” The statement was met with stony silence.
“I caught Bob. And Alex. They were ...” He shook his head. “I stopped them.”
Ralph suddenly took two steps backwards, so his back was against the wall. He slid down the wall, until he landed with a thud. His legs splayed out in front of him.
“I made it back to the office. They must have not been expecting me. I heard the noises back here so came to investigate. They were...” He looked up at Romy with embarrassment. “They were starting to do things to you. Trying to take your clothes off.”
“I yelled at them. They got really angry with me. I saw them look at each other.”
Ralph paused for a moment. “I didn’t know it, but they were going to kill me...” Ralph shook his head in disbelief.
“Then we suddenly had several calls at the same time, so we dropped it and got to work.”
Romy had taken a few steps forward. Ralph continued. He frowned as he recalled the events.
“We got in our cars and responded to the most urgent call. A code 217 – that’s a murder attempt – at the Quick Gas station. That’s where we saw our first zombie.”
He looked up at Romy as he said this. Her eyes opened wide with shock.
“We took that thing down. With force. But the damn thing would just keep on struggling. We finally managed to drag and push the thing into the back of my cruiser.” He shook his head. “How in the hell did we not know that it was a zombie!”
Just then a second one showed up. It came at Ruiz hard. He didn’t hesitate. He pulled his service revolver and emptied nearly a full mag into the thing, but it still took him down! Between Bob and me, we were able to pull the thing off him, and Bob shot the thing in the head. But Ruiz was hurt. We put him in Bob’s cruiser and drove down to the clinic.”
Ralph shook his head slightly, a wry grin on his face. “I had a fucking zombie in the back of my cruiser the whole time. It smashed its face to shit trying to get at me.�
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He swallowed and continued. Romy was at the front of the cell now. Her hands holding on to the bars.
“We called ahead, and Doc Fraser was going to meet us at the clinic.” We came in sirens blaring. That was a mistake... We never did see Doc Fraser when we got to the clinic. We waited there, while Alex was slowly bleeding out. And all of the sudden there were more zombies coming at us. Several of them. We shot them to shit. We knew to aim for the heads at that point.”
Ralph frowned as he recalled the next events. “Bob though... Bob was losing his shit. There was a woman running across the street. I think it was Lindy Olson. Bob shot her. And he shot at some kid too but missed. He kept shooting at anything that moved. Then Alex died. He stopped shooting then.”
“Bob decided that we should hole up back here.”
“I’ll be honest with you, Romy. I was so scared. I was just going to go along with it.”
“I helped him drag Alex’s body out of his cruiser. But then he got this crazy look in his eyes. And before I knew it, he drew his gun on me. He said that I had bad timing and saw some things I shouldn’t have. And then he pulled the trigger! He was going to fucking shoot me in cold blood! But he didn’t realize that he had wasted all his shots and his sidearm clicked empty.”
“So, I shot him, instead. I shot him in the gut.”
Ralph ran his hand over his face. His expression grim.
“I watched him die. I got up and stood over him, and that’s when he confessed to me. Alex and Bob were doing all kinds of bad shit. That girl that went missing a few months back... What the fuck!” Ralph punched the ground.
He looked up at Romy. “I’m sorry Romy. Those guys were animals.”
His eyes grew hard. “Now they’re dead.”
“Let me out of here.” Romy said.
Ralph nodded. He got to his feet and approached the cell door. Inserted the key, turned it, and pulled the cell door open.
“Where are my guns?”
“Here, follow me” They walked into the main office, and Ralph produced another key. He opened a drawer and produced Romy’s guns and mags. Romy quickly checked the guns and inserted the mags. Ralph watched her do this wordlessly.
Apocalypsis Immortuos | Book 1 | Syndrome Page 31