Parasite; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse

by Doug Ward

The rain pounding on the hot ground caused steam to rise. The visibility here was extremely limited.  As we crouched behind the hedge I caught sight of the rain streaming across the handgun Frank had given me.  It made me wonder if it would still fire if the bullets got wet.

  As Henry assessed our transportation situation, I marveled at how he had really come into his own.  It had only taken an apocalyptic outbreak to do it, but he was now strong and commanding. Commanding.

  We fled from our hiding place and bolted for the vehicles, our weapons swinging toward any unusual movement that came into our minimal sight.  Twice I fired.  Not knowing if it had any effect, I mentally marked where I saw the motion and kept moving ahead.  We passed by the fire truck.  It was tightly blocked in.  Even with its bulk and power, I doubted it could push its way free.  Instead, we headed to the front of the line.  Interior lights illuminated the inside of the second Humvee while Hank tried the first.

  I took up a position between the two, defending the others as they loaded onboard both of the military transports and started their engines.  My heart nearly stopped when Dean ran by out of the pouring rain, slapping my shoulder as he went past.

  "Let's go!" he yelled as thunder boomed.

  "Right with ya!" I called back, taking a last look behind.  As I rounded the Humvee's rear bumper, it struck me.  Dean was gone!

  I could see by the interior lights that he wasn't inside, so I broadened my field of search.  He was on the ground, his back pinned to the pavement by one of those things.  My friend struggled to hold it at arm's length, and as a bolt of lightning flashed, I shot.

  The creature fell slack in Dean's hands.  He threw the now slack horror to the side as another jagged line of lightning illuminated the former undead.

  "Karma, bitch!" I spat as I instantly recognized the female soldier.  It was the one who had planted me on my butt.

  "Just pure karma," I muttered as I helped my friend to his feet.

  Dean looked shaken, water streaming across his face.  "Thanks," he said loudly but with a flutter in his voice.

  "If you two are about done fooling around…" Henry cried from behind, startling both of us in the process.

  The sound of the downpour and the boom of thunder blanketed all other noises, but I knew that there were creatures moaning all around us.  The rain was masking us from them.  They could be a few feet away and wouldn't know we were near.

  We hurriedly climbed into the Humvee.  I felt a pang of guilt at being dripping wet and sitting in the vehicle, but after rational thought took hold, I dismissed the feeling.

  Henry fumbled for the headlights as we sat in the idling Humvee.  A deep, resonating rumble threatened to vibrate the teeth right out of my jaws.  I felt relieved being in the safety of the sturdy military vehicle.

  A loud slap on the small window brought me back to reality.  I whipped around in my seat, pointing my gun toward the noise.  A young woman had the side of her face pressed against the glass.  Her mouth slowly opened and closed as she pressed her grimy cheek against the glass.  Her nearly white eye stared at me as she slid her face back and forth trying to find an opening.  Her hand drew back and smacked again against the barrier separating us.

  I felt sad for her, her once pretty hair now matted with rain.  Twigs and bits of refuse were tangled in its mass.  The zombie had probably been very beautiful before she turned.  She rolled her face horizontally against the window, trying a new angle and making me gasp in revulsion.  This side of her face had no flesh.  It was a huge, open wound.  Hair welded to dried blood, which caked her jaw line.  The angry red meat of her face smeared the window with fluids.

  Half horrified and half revolted, I tracked her movements with my weapon.  The zombie's eyes stayed locked on mine as she continued her search for a way in.

  I was afraid to shoot, fearing that the bullet would shatter the glass, exposing me to any other undead which wandered close.

  "Can we get out of here?" I asked no one in particular, while my voice quivered uncontrollably.

  Just then, another joined the first.  This man was bigger, much bigger.  When his hand came down on the window it nearly burst inwards.

  "Hank?" I urged.

  "Crap!" he shouted as he noticed my situation.  Henry pushed down on the accelerator causing us to surge forward quickly.  The hands of the two squealed loudly, dragging against the glass as it slid away.

  Dean leaned between us. "Slow down, Henry. We need to stay in control.  Just creep.  If we hit a tree, we're screwed."

  The vehicle decelerated to a crawl, headlights barely penetrating the heavy rainfall.

  "That's it," Dean said, relaxing back into his seat.  "This downpour can't last forever.  We can go faster when we can see better."

  Twin beams of light shone from the other Humvee trailing behind us.  As the rain began to let up, my husband increased the speed of the vehicle, slowing only to pass around or nudge walking dead out of our way. In turn, Drew, who was driving the second military vehicle, copied our movements and speed.

  "Where are we going?" I asked.  I knew we traveling north as a sign for Harrisville passed by.

  "Dr. Mason let me in on a little secret," Hank said solemnly.  "She told me where there's a secret CDC facility."

  "Not the one in Atlanta," She moaned.

  "No. Closer," I replied.  "In the Allegheny National Forest."

  "But there's nothing up there," Dean remarked.

  "Exactly," I agreed.  "I always thought it was a crazy idea to put a facility which housed so many lethal diseases in the middle of such a densely populated area.  It just makes sense that they would have a special pathogens branch in a sparsely populated area."

  "I thought you had only been to the Atlanta facility," I queried.

  "That's true. I never heard of this place," Henry responded.  "She said it was a classified location."

  Harrisville is a tiny town.  Its main intersection housed a somewhat large convenience store with gas pumps all around.  The building was dark, doors yawning wide open.

  "Should we stop for gas?" I asked.  Henry had a knack for driving and not noticing that we were nearly on empty.

  "No. We're good," he answered.  "I think O'Neill was planning his escape for a while.  The tank is full."

  As we passed by the convenience store, I noticed a few wet forms shambling about the pump area.  They changed direction as our sound and lights caught their attention.

  "I thought O'Neill was totally set on keeping the town," I reasoned.

  "Remember how he had the civilians out on the front lines," he reminded me.  "I believe he had pulled his troops so that if they had to withdraw he would have a trained army to retreat with."

  "Coward!" I said in disgust.

  "Politician!" Hank corrected.

  "It's all the same thing," countered Dean from the back.  His voice dripped with sarcasm.  "They can stand on the capital’s steps in solidarity but did they or any of their families fight in Afghanistan?  Nice photo-op as they stay safe and secure."

  Henry and I let Dean continue his rant.  Although I had to agree with his point, it all seemed moot in this new world.  I doubted anyone was safe and secure at this point.

  We drove on as the rain abated.  The night was getting quite chilly.  Goosebumps rose on my arms as my body and the car’s heater worked at drying our clothes.

  "Are there any blankets back there?" I asked Dean, interrupting his tirade.  "I'm freezing."

  "There're a couple of containers," he replied.  I could hear metal and plastic latches popping open as he searched.  "Two bottles of Kentucky's finest, some MRE's, a couple of walkie-talkies, beef jerky, and water.  Sorry. No blankets.  But the booze might warm you up."

  "It will actually make you colder," Henry informed us.

  "No it doesn't!" argued Dean, leaning back over the seat.  "It always makes me feel warmer."

  "Here we go," I groaned.  Dean, by this time, should
know better than to get Henry going.

  "Sure," my husband began.  "It makes your skin feel a little warmer; but, in reality, it makes your blood vessels constrict.  This causes your core temperature to fall."

  "My pappy always told me-" our friend started, but Hank wasn't listening anymore.

  "That's it!" Henry cut him off.

  Chapter 34

  Henry