Parasite; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Doug Ward

Henry was in the study as the dinner guests began sitting down to the lovely Thanksgiving dinner. I tried to pry him from his studies, but he wouldn't acknowledge me. Everything I tried seemed fruitless.  Even shaking him brought no result.  He just ignored me.

  Angry, I left the room, slamming the French doors behind.  This caused the glass, which made up the majority of the twin doors to rattle.  The dinner guests were oblivious to my distress, focusing intently on the huge turkey in the middle of the table.  Each guest piled heaping mounds of meat on their plates, ignoring everything else.  Thick slabs of juicy fowl heaped on the china nearly overflowed onto the table.

  Sitting at the table's head, I joined them and placed a napkin on my lap.  I grabbed the bowl of steaming broccoli covered with cheese sauce and set it next to my plate.  The cheese formed pools on my clean plate as I measured out a portion.

  Replacing the bowl, I reached for the sweet potatoes.  It was then I noticed our friend Mike shoveling forkfuls of the white meat into his mouth.  He crammed impossible amounts of the stuff into his already overly full mouth.  Small bits dropped to the table in gobs mixed with healthy amounts of saliva.  His mouth literally foamed with the effort of keeping the turkey inside.

  As I looked at our other guests, they were all doing the same; wet smacking sounds were nearly deafening as they fought to push more food in and chew at the same time.

  Trying to stay calm, I spooned the sweet potatoes onto my plate.  The marshmallow topping gave a distinct marbling effect to the serving.  As I put the dish back, I saw that my fellow diners had abandoned their plates altogether and were now attacking the turkey with their hands.  They made a huge mess ripping the bird apart.  Bits of flesh flew as they added handfuls of meat to their overflowing maws.  Drool flowed freely down their chins, dripping onto my nice, white linen tablecloth.

  I slowly pushed my chair back, placing my napkin on my plate.  All heads turned toward me and I saw the hollow stare of their nearly white eyes.  Their faces were gray, lips and cheeks covered in saliva and bits of their meal.  Mouths still chewing, they all pushed back and stood.

  I stifled a scream and began backing away, but they followed me in an awkward, shuffling gait.  I ran to the study and tried the door but the handle would not move.  I must have broken it when I slammed the door in anger. With the palm of my hand, I slapped at the glass trying to gain my husband’s attention. But he sat, head down, totally absorbed in his work.

  Our dinner guests were getting uncomfortably close as I grabbed the floor vase next to the door and threw it through the glass.  It exploded, shattering glass and ceramic both. 

  While I crawled through the jagged opening, my dress caught on a sharp shard jutting from the frame. Hands reached for me as I twisted my body in a last ditch effort to gain my freedom.  I heard a loud tearing sound as the fabric parted, sending me to my knees at the foot of the desk.  I spun about, checking on my pursuers’ progress.  A woman was pushing her way through the broken mess, her flesh slicing open on the jagged glass that remained in the frame.  She didn't seem to notice as her skin and muscle parted, blood flowing from the ragged wounds.

  I crawled around the desk to my husband and pulled at his pant leg, but he didn't stir.  Poking my head over the top of the workspace, I saw the woman clearing the forbidding entryway as another followed behind.

  Whirling on my spouse, I grabbed his shirt front and physically dragged him away from his papers.  As his face centered on mine, I saw a pair of vacant, near-white eyes looking back at me.  His mouth opened and gleaming white teeth came for me.

  I was roughly awakened from my sleep.  Quickly, my hand shot out and seized my assailant's wrists.  I couldn't see.  It was dark.

  "It's me, Melissa," Ned assured, somewhat startled.  "It's your turn at watch."

  My heart was beating wildly as I loosened my hold on his limbs.  "It was a dream," I mumbled, regaining my control of reality.  "It was only a dream."

  "I can take your watch if you want," he offered.

  I still felt tired, but I sure as heck didn't want to go back to sleep and relive that dream.  "No," I responded.  "I'm good."

  Still a little shaky, I stood.  The air was crisp. Steam emitted from each breath.  The only light shining was the moon.  I felt the chill in my lungs and pulled my inhaler out of my jacket, I breathed out completely and released the medication as I breathed in again.  I couldn't see the counter but I knew it was getting low.  I replaced my puffer in the jacket pocket.  Feeling my lungs expand once again, I looked back at Ned.

  "The power went out about an hour ago," he informed me, placing a hand on my shoulder.  "When your eyes adjust, you'll be able to see pretty well, not that there has been anything to see.  Are you sure you're ok?"

  "Fine, I'm fine." I assured him.  "Get some sleep."

  Ned took my spot under the tarp as I turned and leaned on the wall.  The surface was rough and cold but I stayed that way for a few moments to steady my nerves.

  All was quiet.  The scenery, tones of gray, was robbed of color by the scant moonlight.  Clouds mostly obscured the orb, revealing it only momentarily then blocking it for long periods of time.  During one of those times, I looked at the tarp.  In its center was a sizable amount of water.  It must have rained earlier in the night.  The roof left no sign of it having absorbed the precious liquid into its porous surface.

  I reached out and scooped out a handful of cold water.  Carefully drinking the chill liquid, I savored the small amount as it flowed over my dry lips.  A foul, oily taste mixed with the liquid, but I didn't care.  I followed that handful with several more.  Then, feeling guilty, I stopped myself.  We were going to have to share it.  I had to think of the others.

  Nothing outside stirred, at least nothing I could see.  A soft rain fell from the sky, so I retreated to an unoccupied corner of our shelter and watched the big drops fall to the roof.

  The sound of the rain on our tarp roof reminded me of camping.  Henry and I used to do that a lot.  He said he didn't like hotels, but I always suspected he wanted to rough it so he could work during our vacations.  He would come back from our trips with specimen bottles full of bugs, mostly beetles.  As I looked at spectacular views like the Grand Canyon, he would be looking at the ground in search of some insect or another.

  Thinking of my husband, I pulled out my iPhone.  Its screen came to life but there was no connection.  My phone was essentially useless.  Shutting down the device, I returned it to my pocket.  After the rain stopped, I took the time to stretch my legs by walking the perimeter of the roof.  The gravel was taking a toll on my stocking-covered feet and my toes ached with the cold, but I couldn't stand just sitting.

  Orange stained the bottom clouds, which were now breaking up and becoming more scattered.  Color was being gradually restored as night gave way to dawn's light.  I walked back to the makeshift shelter to check on the others.  As I silently approached the tarp, I could make out my companions locked in sleep’s soft embrace.

  Amber, legs covered with her jacket, looked angelic, her brow wrinkled in what looked like concentration.  I wondered what she was dreaming.  Ned snored softly while he lay prone on his back.  Ted, still on his lounge chair, had flipped onto his stomach, stretching his jacket, uncomfortably tightening its fit.

  It was then that I saw the stain on his cuff, the sleeve covered with blood.  My hand shot to my mouth, stifling a cry.  I tried to make excuses for the wound, unsure what to do.

  I snuck up on Ned and, placing my palm over his mouth, I reawakened him.  His eyes shot wide and he started to speak but my hand muffled his attempt.  With my other hand, I placed the index finger over my mouth and signaled him to be quiet.

  We did the same to Amber.  She didn't struggle as Ned had, but rather opened her eyes and followed our silent commands.

  I pointed at Ted's resting form and pointing at my wrist.  I then redirected them to our boss.  Amber's sharp intak
e of breath told me she had found the meaning behind my pantomime.  Ned pointed away from the shelter urging us to a distant point so we could speak.

  "Do you think it's a bite wound?" Ned asked when we were as far away as we dared.

  "I don't know," I answered.  "It sure looks like it is."

  "What should we do?" posed Amber, pulling her jacket on against the morning chill.

  "I don't know," I said, trying to reason our options through.  "Most of the people who were bitten only lasted hours before becoming fully infected.  In some cases, it had been minutes or even less.  For him, it's been most of a day."

  "He sure looked bad yesterday," Amber added.

  Ned placed his hands on his hips.  "I just thought he was hung over."

  "I thought that too," I agreed.  "But maybe it was a small bite.  That may explain why it took longer to take a hold."

  "Listen to us!" Amber chided firmly yet quietly.  "We don't even know that he's sick.  It might not even be a bite.  We just can't condemn him without being sure."

  We all nodded in agreement.  For the next several minutes, we formulated a plan.  His lounge chair was in the back of the shelter.  We needed to secure the pool of water above him just in case there was a struggle.  Our lips already chapping, we needed the life-sustaining liquid more than food.

  Amber and Ned took off their shoes.  We then crept to the tarp.  Ned stalked to the inside and grabbed twin handfuls of the blue plastic. His arms were spread wide.  Amber and I took positions at the far corners, while she untied the corner on the wall, I did the same with the cubicle support.  We waited for Ned.

  With a mighty heave, Ned pulled both of his corners free of their wall hooks, the strips of aged plastic bag tearing easily under the added strain.  Water sloshed in the tarp, some overflowing and pouring over Ted's prone body.  We hurried away from the site, the blue plastic dragging across the pebbled surface of the roof.  We had preserved most of our prize.

  "Ned!" I screamed, my eyes looking past my friend to where Thaddeus was rising from the lounge.

  When we had reached the far edge of the roof, the three of us gathered the sides and brought the corners together.  Amber gathered them in her outstretched arms, keeping the sides high enough to hold the liquid trapped, as Ned and I turned to face our infected boss.

  Thaddeus didn't seem to notice being sopping wet.  Empty, white eyes stared, unblinking, at the two of us as the predator shuffled in our direction.  Arms raised and mouth empty but chewing, he slowly came forward.

  We drew him to the edge of the building, away from our prized water and the person holding it trapped.  Ted only cared about who was closest, so he pursued us to the low wall.  As he lurched at me, the top of the wall was pressing at my mid thighs.  I lunged to the left, but the rounded surface of the pea gravel rolled under my stocking-covered feet, causing me to fall well short of my mark. The cubicle support skidded across the stone surface, well out of reach.

  Thaddeus bent at the waist to grab the prey at his feet but was stopped short.  Ned had two handfuls of the sick man's jacket between his shoulders.  Reeling backward, Ned swung the infected man about toward the edge.

  My former boss's arms spun wildly as he struggled to halt his backward momentum.  Just as I thought it was over, Ted's calves met the wall, giving him purchase just short of falling.  Now steady, Ted turned his attention on Ned, who was right beside him.  I saw the cubical support gleaming in the new light. It was too far away, so I abandoned it and tucked my legs under my body, launching myself forward.

  As Thaddeus reached for my friend, I leapt feet first.  Not thinking about what would happen if I missed, I just acted.  My arches met our attacker at his midsection and, kicking out, I propelled him out and over the edge.

  As Ted fell, he kept reaching for us.  Unaware of his demise, he kept clawing for us until he struck the ground.  I looked away as blood pooled around his still body.

  Ned placed a hand on my shoulder and sighed, "Thank you."

  I could hear Amber crying in the distance.

  Chapter 13

  Henry