She was almost to the front automatic doors when a ghastly clamor arose from just outside the building. People started running inside the store screaming. Bodies were falling and being trampled. Anne ran right through these people, knocking them aside in her haste to get to her car. As she ran through the door to the outside lot, she saw the woman who had been lying on the sidewalk when she had entered. The woman stood there turning from side to side growling and snapping. She was drenched with blood down the front of her I ♥ NY sweatshirt. The man who was holding her head was now lying sprawled on the sidewalk with his throat torn out.
Anne paused only for a moment, and then continued running. The woman lunged at her and tried to grab her. Without stopping, Anne swung her arm out and batted the woman away. The zombie bit her on the shoulder but couldn’t hold on as Anne never stopped her momentum. As she ran, the woman started after her, but was distracted by another couple trying to enter the store and veered off toward them.
Crying and gasping, Anne staggered as she reached her car. She stood there, bent over, noisily breathing through her open mouth. Her vision blurred as a massive spasm wracked her whole body. Struggling with stiff fingers, Anne managed to open the car door. Another spasm passed through her as she climbed into the driver seat. She sat there gasping. Patting around her body, she felt for the shoulder strap of her purse. She ran her hands all over her top but couldn’t find it. The wagon, she thought. I left it in the wagon with the sodas. Oh my God… my keys are in it.
Sitting in the Nissan with the door wide open, she started to cry in despair. Tears ran down her face as her shoulders shook with her wrenching sobs.
Finally the crying subsided. She was having trouble focusing. I think I’m going to be sick again, she thought. Then, closing her eyes, she fell forward in the seat. As her head hit the steering wheel, the car horn sounded in a long and continuing bleat. The noise traveled through the parking lot, mixing with the shouts and screams of people.
§ § §
Stephanie Dwyer stirred in her bed. Her arm lifted from the top of the sheet, then fell back down. She moved her neck stiffly, and then opened her eyes. Her bloodshot eyes were filmed over with a milky haze. As her lips parted, a soft moan escaped. She sat up, sheets falling to her lap. Awkwardly, she moved out of bed. The now undead Stephanie managed to half drag one of the sheets out with her as it entangled in her legs. She stumbled a few times as she slowly shuffled out the bedroom door. Her milky eyes looked around as her head swiveled back and forth. The noise from the television sounded from the floor below. She opened her mouth and let out another moan. As she shuffled to the head of the stairs, the errant sheet slid off her leg; it’s rumpled form marking her path from the bedroom. She again moaned, a runnel of dark saliva snaking from her open lips. The voice on the television was calling her down. Stephanie awkwardly came down the stairs. Her gait, unsteady at first, was becoming more stable.
She reached the first floor and turned to the source of the commentary. Moving a little quicker now, she plodded into the family room. Standing in the doorway, she looked at the flickering screen of the television. An announcer was now selling a hand cream to soften your skin. He practically guaranteed the users’ sexiness.
With a low growl, she looked to the other side. Seated in a big, leather easy chair was her husband Steve Dwyer. He laid head back in the chair with his arms dangling off of the armrests. A large stain covered the front of his cotton flannel shirt. As Stephanie moved to him, his eyes opened. He turned his head toward his wife. A milky film covered his irises. It had the look of advanced cataracts. He then opened his blood encrusted mouth and moaned.
§§ §
The closing credits scrolled up the black movie screen. Most of the theatergoers remained seated in case any continuing story was hidden in the credits. When the lights came on, the people got up and started to leave. The bearded man was walking and carrying the remains of his large popcorn and even larger soda.
As they left the screening room and traversed the concession stand and lounge area, the man stopped to get a refill on both containers. Observing, Billy again mimed the “loser” sign on his forehead while Dwayne chuckled. The two friends walked out of the theater and into the bright early afternoon sunshine.
“My dad is picking us up in front of the theater; so we’ll just hang here till he comes,” Billy said.
Standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, Dwayne looked around the main downtown portion of Oakwood. “Not many people out for a Saturday afternoon,” he stated.
“What do you mean, D,” Billy said while looking around, “there’s a bunch of cars on the roads.”
“I meant walking around,” corrected Dwayne.
Billy looked down the avenue. He noticed a very pretty girl in a nurse’s uniform walking by. It was one of those outfits that a doctor’s receptionist might have worn. It was a burgundy top and pants with white tennis sneakers. Billy watched her walk up the street until she reached a storefront with a sign that said: Dr. Louis Perdomo, Chiropractor. She stopped and opened the door. He saw her brunette ponytail bounce as she entered the office.
“Yeah, maybe,” Billy said distractedly, “I guess.”
A police siren sounded from a block away.
The bearded moviegoer exited the theater and walked in the other direction, still carrying his popcorn and sipping from his drink. The two boys watched him walk to the corner, cross the street and walk to a blue Toyota. He got in and drove away.
“Your dad knows what time the movie got out, doesn’t he?” Dwayne asked.
“Yeah, sure he does,” Billy said defensively. He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes had already passed. “Uh, maybe I’ll call him,” he added.
Billy took out his phone and dialed his father’s cell number. Putting it to his ear, he heard the call ring and ring. After five rings it went to voicemail. Puzzled, Billy said into the receiver, “Dad, it’s Billy. We’re waiting in front of the movies. Are you on your way? Let me know, okay?”
“No answer?” Dwayne asked.
“No,” said Billy. He looked concerned.
Dwayne opened his mouth again, when he heard what sounded like a scream. They both looked at each other, and then looked around.
“What was that?” they both asked at once.
Suddenly, the glass door to the chiropractor’s office flew open and the ponytailed nurse ran out. She was holding her hand to her cheek. Blood was smeared on her face and was running through her fingers. The seemingly terrified girl ran to the curb, and then turned quickly around. Knees bent, she screamed again, face contorted. Then she began to cry uncontrollably. A middle-aged man came out of the stationary store next door and attempted to put his arm around her shoulders to console her. She jerked her head around to him and screamed at his touch. The sound of someone banging their hands on glass echoed in the street. The girl again spun around to the door, screamed and then ran back toward the two boys standing in front of the movie theater gawking at her.
The glass door swung open and a man stepped out of the office. The blood smeared handprints on the glass door obscured most of him; but when he took two more steps out the door swung closed. The boys could see that the man had on a blue shirt and tie with black pants. He had curly black hair starting to go gray at the temples and a trim mustache. His mouth was smeared with blood.
The middle-aged man from the stationary store looked at the undead chiropractor and said, “Dr. Lou, what happened? Are you okay?”
The zombie focused on the man and growled. He showed his teeth which were red with blood. As he took a step forward, the other man stepped back to the curb.
“Dr. Lou,” he shouted, as if by calling his name he could break the spell.
Just then the door to the Indian restaurant next door opened and a dark skinned man with gray hair and gold rimmed glasses walked out. With him came one of the waiters.
In a heavily accented voice, he barked out, “What is going on?”
> The zombie turned toward the new voice and saw the two men standing there. The gray-haired man took a step forward and put his hands on his hips. Dr. Lou hissed at his new adversaries, and then let out a long moan.
“Don’t go near him,” the man at the curb yelled. “I think he’s one of the infected. He has the virus.”
The zombie’s head now turned back to the first man. He seemed confused as to who to attack first.
“Hey,” the Indian man shouted. “I’m calling the police.”
Again, the zombie’s head snapped around. He let out a low moan as the waiter stepped up beside the gray-haired man. That was all it took. Now solely focused on the two men, Dr. Lou started to move toward them. As he did he began to pick up speed.
The gray-haired man backed up and then turned and ran back into the restaurant. His waiter said as he passed, “Don’t worry, Mr. Kapoor. I will take care of this.”
As he stepped forward, the zombie ran into him and they both fell back, crashing into the plate glass window behind them. They hit so hard that Dwayne and Billy were sure they would break through. Instead a loud bang rang out and the gold letters, Calcutta Palace, shook from the vibration.
Both figures were struggling against the window. The waiter had one hand around the zombie’s throat, pushing him back, while the chiropractor kept trying to dart his head toward any exposed flesh, jaws snapping loudly. He kept pawing at the waiter’s face.
The restaurant door swung open again and Mr. Kapoor ran back out. He was carrying a broom. As he came up to the two struggling antagonists, he grabbed the broom by the handle and swung it at the zombie’s back. It hit with a thunk and he continued to strike the zombie in the back and shoulders multiple times. None of it did any good as the clawing zombie completely ignored him, while he struggled to find a place to bite.
Perspiring and breathing heavily, Mr. Kapoor stopped. Puffing loudly, he grabbed the broom handle at both ends and, passing it over the zombie’s head from behind, pulled it against his throat hard. This pulled the creature back, although he still had a hold of the waiter’s shirt which ripped down the front. Mr. Kapoor pulled back and increased the pressure on the zombie’s throat, but feeling absolutely no pain at all, he turned his head and shoulders while stepping back. This brought him crashing back into the restaurant owner. He still had ahold of the broom, but it was now behind the zombies head. As the two came together, the zombie bent his head and took hold of the older man’s throat with his teeth. Dropping the now useless weapon, Mr. Kapoor gave a gurgling screen as he clawed at the shoulders of the feasting zombie. Still moving backwards, their legs tangled and they both fell in a heap in front of the Indian restaurant. The waiter was leaning against the window gasping and wild-eyed. He kept rubbing his neck where the zombie had clawed him. Looking around helplessly, he turned and ran back into the restaurant.
The traffic passed, the drivers had stopped to gawk at the attack. Now that Mr. Kapoor lay dead on the sidewalk, throat savaged and eyes locked wide with fright, the zombie stood up. Seeing this, the drivers, fearing for their lives, sped off down the street.
Dwayne and Billy were still standing there with mouths hanging open in sheer disbelief. The woman who had been behind the ticket window of the movie theater had heard the commotion and now walked outside to see what was happening. As the ghoul came into view, she slapped her hand to her forehead and yelled loudly, “Oh, my God.”
Now the zombie again turned his head, this time toward Dwayne, Billy and the ticket taker. He snarled and reached his arms out to them, pawing the air.
Dwayne could only stand there and drawl, “Holy shit!”
The zombie started to come down the street toward them. His gait was like an awkward fast walk. He was raising his hands out in anticipation.
“Oh, Christ,” the lady exclaimed. Turning to the two boys, she said, “Quick, get back inside the theater.”
The three of them ran inside and she quickly bent down and engaged the door locks. She did it to all the unlocked doors, finishing as soon as the zombie appeared. He came crashing against the doors, pawing the glass with his bloodied hands and actually chewing on the plate glass of the doors, leaving particles of flesh and broken teeth to slide down the blood slicked surface.
The three backed away in awe. The absolute relentlessness and single-minded pursuit of prey was at once horrifying and mesmerizing. They could no more take their eyes off of the infected, undead creature then he could them.
§§ §
The East Coast of the United States, Canada and South America were witnessing the first turnings of the people infected by the Pandora virus. It had started subtly during the night, albeit only a very few, but now as the day progressed more and more of the previous Pandora victims were experiencing the new Pandora 2 Mutation. This would continue until the evening when the last remnants would turn. Although, like a crowd doing the wave at a football game, this same sequence would reverberate across the country until all previous victims had died and risen again as virus controlled zombies. But the deadly and horrific truth was that this was only the beginning. Every single person who would be bitten by one of the disease carrying creatures would in turn become infected themselves. Killed immediately, they would still turn within ten to fifteen minutes. If a bite was nonfatal, even a small bite on the hand or ankle, it would still be a death sentence. The further away from the brain and the less severe the wound, it could take at the very most twenty-four hours before any symptoms showed. But they would show. Sooner or later, all who were bitten became infected and would die; only to reanimate and become another disease carrier looking only to spread the virus to others. They didn’t bite and chew their victims to feed, only to spread the virus. They were the perfect viral machine. Only by destroying the brain would the virus be stopped. The virus kept the brain alive, but the brain also kept the virus alive. It was a sick, macabre, symbiotic relationship.
§ § §
When Patrick hung up with his wife he was concerned about her. But after his experience at Phil’s Armory, he was now very worried. He called his wife back on her cell phone, but it went to voicemail. He tried again, but got the same response. He hoped that she was just busy in the store and missed the call. He assumed that Anne would see his message and call him back.
His next call was to his mother. They were going to travel and see her this Sunday. She lived in a condo building outside of Albany. He had wanted to check in on her and thought that she would enjoy seeing the whole family. He would then take her out to that Italian restaurant near her that she liked so much. He dialed her number and she picked up on the third ring.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Hi, Mom,” Patrick said, “it’s your favorite son.”
“Hello, Patrick,” she said, chuckling. “I just got off the phone with your brother Michael. He said the same thing.”
Patrick laughed, “I know Mom, but you know I’m really the one.”
She joined him laughing at his response, “You two never stop. How are Anne and the kids? Everyone healthy?”
“We’re all good, Mom,” he said. “What is happening by you? How are things in the building?”
“So far everything is all right. Early this morning, an ambulance was here and took away Frieda Gottlieb from the second floor. Her husband Milton had called 911 around five thirty this morning. Apparently she came down with the Pandora again. That’s what everyone is saying. Then a young man who had just moved in three months ago with his wife started to attack people in the parking garage. I don’t know what happened to him, but Martha Achenbach next-door said that they think it was because of that virus also.”
“Oh, this isn’t good, Mom,” Patrick groaned.
“I know,” she said. “About an hour ago, they had another incident in the parking garage. And another in the lobby. Management said for everyone to remain in their condos until further notice, but I still hear people in the hallways. Sometimes, there is screaming.”
&nb
sp; “Stay inside your place, Mom,” Patrick said. “Don’t go outside into the hallway. Wait until they send somebody to get you. Do you have food and water?”
“Yes,” she said, “I went to the market Wednesday as usual.”
“Okay, good,” he remarked. “I’m going to try to get up there tomorrow.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Patrick,” she said. “I can see the Thruway from my twelfth floor apartment and it already looks crowded with bumper to bumper traffic.”
“Let’s see tomorrow, Mom,” Patrick said.
“All right son,” she said, “you and your family stay safe for me. I’ll be fine here. Once they get everything cleared up, we will all be back to normal.” With worried goodbyes, they disconnected.
Patrick was still sitting in the community parking lot next to the hardware store. He put his phone down and tapped the steering wheel with his fingers as he thought about what to do next. As he was about to start his SUV, he turned to look at the exit from the lot. There was a line of cars in the street waiting at the light. A green car rolled forward and hit the BMW sitting in front of it. When they hit, the green car beeped its horn once. There were four cars waiting at the traffic light, and the two cars were right across the entrance to the lot.
Pandora (Book 5): Behold A Pale Horse Page 7