Bowie V. Ibarra

“CURRENT REPORTS SHOW that the mystery illness that struck New York City one week ago has now spread across the country. The unknown disease has now been reported in all states in the continental United States. The sickness has not been reported as of yet in Alaska and Hawaii. Doris West has more…”

George Zaragosa was listening to the report as he packed his bag. The trip wasn’t going to be easy, and since he wouldn’t have any place to change until he made it, he filled his sturdy black travel bag only with canned goods. Mostly beans. As a single guy, George wasn’t much for cooking. The one thing he could cook (and cook well,) was chalupas. The beans for the chalupas were about the only canned goods he ever bought, apart from beer.

“The illness that begins with a strong fever resulting in death within hours has spread across the nation,” said Doris West, whose sultry voice was placed over news footage of hospital beds in New York City. Images of doctors and nurses working frantically to take care of the sick filled the screen. “Doctors and public officials are at a loss on how to contain the growing threat.”

“All the hospitals on the Island are now filled to capacity, and several of the boroughs are reporting the same,” said Dr. Richard Hammond, who looked visibly exhausted. “We’re having to turn people away. Fortunately, FEMA recently began opening centers around town to help those we’re turning away.”

Helpful FEMA centers, thought George. Sounds like an oxymoron to me.

George had a healthy distrust of the people running the U.S. government, especially the agencies like the Federal Emergency Management Agency and the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms. The actions of FEMA at the Seattle riots and the bad choices of the BATF at Waco and Ruby Ridge didn’t inspire any semblance of confidence in George for those agencies, especially for the people that ran them.

George packed his pistol, a simple.38 Special with enough ammunition to last longer than the food. His gut churned at the thought of having to use it.

But I guess that’s what I bought it for, he figured.

Years ago, he remembered shooting at the rifle range with his dad back in his hometown of San Uvalde. He was young and not too interested, but he was taught the ins and outs of gun responsibility. One of the comments that always stuck in his head was when his dad told him, “If you’re going to own a gun, you’d better be prepared to use it.” With that thought in his head, it took him several years to finally purchase one, but the decision was easy. With breakins becoming a problem in his apartment complex, he knew he wanted to be able to protect his property.

“What emergency management personnel are now investigating is why New York wasn’t the only area infected,” Doris chimed in over images of bodies being carried out of hospitals. “A day later, Los Angeles, Dallas, Miami, Chicago, Minneapolis, Seattle, and Washington D.C. were all exposed to horrendous outbreaks of the illness. Government officials have not ruled out a biological attack from terrorists, though the FBI and CIA are currently investigating. No groups have come forward to claim responsibility.”

The irony of even owning the gun now to protect his property was obvious to George as he looked around his sparsely-lit one room apartment. He looked at his computer and knew it probably wouldn’t be here if and when he came back. Looters had been a problem in Austin for the past three days since the “State of Emergency” was declared two days before. Schools closed, stores boarded up their windows, and FEMA centers opened. Surprisingly, the FEMA centers were very well prepared for the city going ape.

But the local police could barely get a handle on the various problems rising around the city, especially looters. Half the cops were busy fighting the hordes of mysterious undead creatures that had suddenly taken over the poorer neighborhoods. Another small yet noticeable portion of the police had headed to the hills with their families. With the force that was left, the south side didn’t get quite as much protection as the well-to-do north side.

- Naturally.

Unfortunately, that was also the side of town George lived on. Sirens, gunshots, and screams serenaded him to sleep for the last two nights since the outbreak. It was obvious public safety was slowly being thrown to the wayside.

The police dressed like armored Nazi stormtroopers didn’t help either. They were working openly with the military under the guise of “Homeland Security.”

Coming out of his daydream for a moment, George looked around the room again, trying to figure out what to take. The movies he had begun to collect would also disappear. His favorite movies including Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Big Lebowski would be gone. It made him think how lucky he was to actually have all of those items, as well as everything else in his room. It was probably a safe bet that he wouldn’t have another bed to sleep in for a while, even if he made it home.

“Matters became more complicated as a frightning trend began to emerge. Three days ago, in the early morning, everything was fine. Then by the afternoon, several dead patients began to rise,” explained a nurse, her uniform so soiled that it was too much of a distraction for George to catch her name, which had flashed momentarily across the bottom of the screen. “We thought it was a mistake, at first, a misdiagnosis of them being dead. But as they began to attack staff members, we knew something was wrong.”

“By seven o’clock that evening, two floors of a hospital in New York City had been locked down and patients moved to different floors,” added Doris. Footage of medical staff relocating their patients was displayed on screen for a moment, effectively narrated, then those images were removed and Doris was shown again. “Other hospitals were soon to follow suit.”

“Funeral Directors reported the same activity at morgues around the city.”

“…Body bags began moving… moaning… we didn’t know what to do. They were dead when we picked them up,” stated mortician Steve Alexander, “The problem is the same here. We’ve had to shut this place down and lock it up.”

“Early reports had at least 100-200 people showing up at local hospitals across the east coast within hours of the first report. And within hours, those people died. Doctors hadn’t even had enough time to diagnose the problem. A majority expired in the waiting room.”

“That was three days ago.”

The one thing George was going to miss was his compact disc music collection. Losing that was really going to hurt. Music was important to him -an inspiration even -and it showed in his library of custom-made tapes, reflecting different moods he would experience day by day.

It was at that point that George felt a tinge of helplessness. Sure, he had accumulated such comforts as he tried to make a living for himself teaching children about theatre in the nearby town of Koehl, but now he knew nothing could save his apartment -an apartment he hadn’t been renting for even a year yet.

He knew one thing, though. He needed to get out of the city, apartment be damned.

“The fact of the matter is that within hours, the bodies of the recently deceased began to rise. A violent and what most have described as a cannibalistic impulse seemed to overtake the bodies as they started to attack and devour the living,” said a police chief in Miami. “We’re not sure how to contain them.”

“Though these creatures have attacked the living, there have been no reports of the creatures attacking each other,” Doris said over images of confused hospital technicians and sick patients, of confused crowds in the streets by hospitals, and then of a young woman holding her grandmother, both of them crying. “However, there are claims that bites from the creatures are leading to more infections.”

The television showed a camera taking in the image of a woman running across a busy street, helped by a friend. Her arm had a very noticeable bite wound and was bleeding quite a lot of blood.

“The fact remains that across the country, people are dying. And those people are somehow coming back to life. Doris West, News Four, Austin.”

Zipping up his bag, George took one last look around his apartment. I guess I won’t have to worry about rent for a while, he joked to himself.

It wasn’t much of a joke, though. George was scared. It would have been much easier for him to stay locked up in his apartment until this problem got under some sort of control. He had food that could last at least a few weeks if he wasn’t wasteful. He would certainly be home, back to San Uvalde, by then.

“Thank you, Doris,” said the news anchor in his three-piece blue suit. “Homeland Security has issued another emergency notification for the Austin public at large.” A ticker at the bottom of the screen started listing off locations of FEMA centers around Austin.

Home. He was going to go home. He was going to survive this mess and make it home -At least that’s what the optimist in him had told him. The truth was it had been three days already and the problem was still spreading across the country. When the first reports came in, George couldn’t believe his ears. A day after the first reports outside of Texas, an early morning news show broke the story of the first reanimation in Austin. George had just woken up and was preparing for school, and was watching the morning news, the same news program that he watched every morning. That same day several hours later, twenty-four people had been attacked by the creatures. All were infected. All twenty-four died and came back to life mere hours after infection. It was around that time that the sick began to fill the beds of Austin area hospitals, all on their last leg.

“All citizens are to report to any of the following FEMA centers nearest where you live: Bowie High School, Crockett High School, Travis High School, YMCA central…”

School was a bit nerve-wracking as the first reports were coming in. No one had really responded to the crisis in Koehl and the absence rate was about the same. However, things would change by the end of the day.

By the time he had arrived home from work that day, just two days ago, the death toll had already reached a thousand plus, with over a thousand more infected. By the end of the next workday, the Austin area hospitals had been pushed to their limits. The absences were alarmingly high that day at school. George had one class with only five students. None of them wanted to be there, especially after the rumors circulated that a coach had beat down one of the creatures with a football helmet before school started that morning.

The creature was rumored to be the grandmother of one of George’s students, who died the day before.

“…Leander Public High School, Dripping Springs High School, Wimberlay Volunteer Fire Department, Wimberlay High School…”

School was let out at lunch that second day and would be out indefinitely. That was when George decided he needed to get home. He would risk the large amount of traffic that had begun to pack the interstate.

Enough of this crap, thought George. No more TV.

As he walked toward the bed where the remote to the TV was, he glanced up at the picture on the wall. It was a photo of him and his deceased fiancée. Her name was Esparanza Garcia, and he loved her.

Taking a moment, George remembered the day they first met. He was in line at the theater, waiting to buy a ticket for some pirate movie his friends had suggested. Not having any luck for a date, George was going solo, but that never bothered him. George was used to being alone. In a way, he preferred it. He liked to do his own thing.

A few moments later, Esparanza was standing in line with two other female friends. His attention was grabbed by her choice of fragrance, il bacio, and George turned. He didn’t know what the spark was or if it was some fat angel with an arrow, but he was enraptured nonetheless. She smiled. He smiled. A year later, George proposed to her in line at the movies, the very same place and time they had met.

George took the picture from the wall and carefully removed the photo from its frame, relocating it to his wallet. It was the first time he had ever put a picture in his wallet.

Ready to go, George grabbed the remote to turn off the television. In his haste, his hand brushed against the “last channel” button.

The television switched to MTV.

“Goddamn,” George whispered in disbelief, “TRL is still live!”

The studio audience was still screaming for the videos. Carson was still jabbering about the latest stars and pop news. The only evidence that the program was in any way affected by the plague was the back windows of the studio. Instead of proudly showing Times Square, they were covered by dark plastic sheets, showing nothing.

Make the people think everything is going to be all right, George mused. Typical.

He switched off the television.