Dahmer Flu (4 page)

Mike turned his body in my direction and called; “Hey, I-” His head snapped back as my round caught him in the forehead, spraying a fine mist of blood and brain matter from the back of his head and moistening the dusty windows behind him. His body collapsed in a heap, absolutely still and draped over the legs of the other man. I waited. There was no movement except for the irregular breathing of the big man; he was still alive, but most likely wouldn’t be for much longer.

I kept my pistol pointed at the men- or the man and the corpse, at least- as I pulled myself over the counter and onto the other side. Slowly I approached, intending to sidestep the carnage and leave the way I had come, and was nearly overcome by the sweet-hot smell of burnt gunpowder and the copper scent of fresh wounds.

When I got close enough to see, it suddenly made sense how he had been so calm and persuasive. His sheriff’s deputy uniform was crisp and clean, aside from the fresh blood, and was distorted by his bulletproof vest. I had been aiming for center-mass, like I learned in the Army, and felt fortunate that I had missed and caught his forehead instead. His eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling and he maintained a death-grip on a large, heavy handgun. He had lied; but then again, so had I. I pried his fingers loose and took that one, too.

It was with great effort that the big man, Justin, rolled his eyes and focused them on me- there was fear in them. He was afraid to die. Perhaps he was afraid that I would kill him, or perhaps that I wouldn’t and leave him to die an agonizing death. He was right to be afraid. I heard this man planning to rape my wife, perhaps my daughter, too. I heard him plan it and laugh about it, and I knew that he would have done it if I hadn’t stopped him here.

He wasn’t worth the bullet.

Unable to speak, and barely able to breathe, he watched me stand and leave through the way I had come in. Already I could see the telltale shuffle of the undead beginning to stream into the street and out of open doorways; they had been attracted to the sound of the gunshot, and were converging on the pharmacy with a single-minded focus. If Justin wasn’t dead yet, he would be soon.

I hurried to the RV, making sure the pills were still in my pocket as I ran. We had to leave town before the rest of the undead found their way here. I didn’t waste any time on signals or signs, knowing Aimee would be watching this time. In a dead run, I rounded the nose of the vehicle- the door was already open and I ran directly inside and into the waiting arms of Madi and Aimee, after she closed and locked the door.

“Daddy!” Madi squealed, pointing out the window. An undead creature walked with a slow, unsteady gait along the RV, where I had been only moments before. Another followed shortly behind it. Madi ran towards the revolved on the console, but was stopped by my hand on her shoulder.

“Wait, look,” I said. The creatures continued past without seeming to consider that we could be inside. Instead, they headed single-mindedly to the pharmacy where others were already climbing inside for the meal that I had left them. “It’s okay, honey, we’re safe here.” That might have been true- I had no way of knowing whether we were safe or not, or if we’d live another day; but what was important was that it was true for her.

A moment later, I had settled into the driver’s seat. Next to me, Aimee had already buckled into the passenger seat and was studying the atlas. I turned the key and the vehicle roared to life, causing a few of the closest passing creatures to turn and head in our direction. With every bit of horsepower the vehicle could summon, the RV lurched into the street and took a sharp right away from the rapidly growing crowd. More were coming to join it, and I wove carelessly through the lighter portions of the oncoming horde. There were easily hundreds of the undead that pressed in our direction as we passed like a salmon traveling upstream; the ones that I couldn’t avoid slid under the tires and jarred us to the side, threatening to overturn the RV. It took all of my strength and concentration to keep moving forward.

Aimee shouted directions, adjusting on the fly. “Straight!” “Left!”

We made the turn, but the road was thick with the undead. “It’s blocked!” I shouted. “There’s too many!”

She didn’t miss a beat as I drove towards the crowd, trusting her as she trusted me. “Right!” She compensated. “Left!” Another left and a right brought us behind the bulk of the mob, and we pressed forward as quickly as the vehicle would allow. Eventually, the crowd thinned and were reached the long, straight and uninhabited stretch of road out of town. Neither of us spoke until McFarland snuck out of view. Only then did I pull to the side of the road, breathing heavy and resting my forehead against the steering wheel.

No one spoke until I felt Aimee’s warm hand on my back. “What happened in there?” She asked, referring to the pharmacy and the gunshots.

“Just a couple of them undead bastards, it wasn’t a big deal.” I lied, and she let me. It was easier for both of us that way.

I heard a quiet voice behind me. “Did you bring us anything, Daddy?”

We drove for hours until the sun fell below the horizon in a chaotic explosion of color. I drove further in the night that was usual for us, but it was comforting to put distance between my family and the lost city of McFarland.

The headlights stabbed into the moonlit night as we sped along the lonely road. Aimee read animatedly to the children; I realized that the easiest way to tell the difference between the ‘good guys’ and the ‘bad guys’ was by their voices; the good were easy to tell from the undead because they could speak at all, and easy to separated from the bad by what they spoke about.

With no visibility, I had to face that continuing to drive was much too dangerous. I couldn’t see far enough ahead to look out for dangers, and our headlights would call attention to us from miles away. I turned to the side of the road, killing the engine as we coasted to a stop.

“Everything  okay?” Aimee called from the couch, concerned.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Just time to bunk down for the night,” I answered, rising from the seat. I sat next to Aimee and draped my arm over her shoulder. The ‘modern luxuries’ that we had gotten used to were no longer available, so all we had left was each other. McFarland was out of my mind for the moment, and I was safe with my family- this was as close as I had come to expect to ‘normal’ anymore.

Jacob had falling asleep and was snoring softly by the time Aimee finished the story, and she tucked him into his bed with a kiss. The three of us talked and laughed, read and played, until it was time for Madi to go to bed as well. She left with kisses from each of us, off to sleep the sleep of the innocent. The children in bed, and soon asleep, Aimee and I retired to the front bedroom for the night. We talked, then indulged in hurried lovemaking, before she fell asleep in my arms, exhausted but happy. She was everything that the world outside wasn’t.

I envied her. I didn’t sleep; I couldn’t sleep. When I would, for a stolen moment, I’d see only the undead surrounding me, hungry and eager. If not that, I’d see the faces of the men I had killed.

I only killed one
, I consoled myself.
Technically, the undead got the big guy.

I rolled out of bed, got dressed and went to the window where I strained my eyes, sure that unknown terrors- living or dead- were just outside. I carried my rifle, drifting agitatedly from one window to another while keeping my finger hovered over the safety switch. I patrolled futilely for hours before settling into the driver’s seat and watched the sun rise; fingers of light stabbed into the sky, and then the sun slowly began to peek over the horizon in a burst of color. My thoughts were dazed with exhaustion, but I took it as a matter of pride that I hadn’t given in to sleep. I pulled a bottle of water from the center console and drank, feeling the warm liquid soothe my dry throat. Small pleasures.

I turned the key and brought the RV to life, easing it back onto the road. Quietly, I powered on the CB radio; I wasn’t surprised at the silence. There was always silence. The day was clear and the road was flat, giving me visibility for miles.

“Hey, honey. Morning,” Aimee’s voice was groggy behind me. “Early start?” She sat next to me.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep,” I replied, giving her hand a squeeze.

“Again?” She asked.

I didn’t answer. We rode in silence, alone in our thoughts. Sleep was begging at my eyes, and I fought to keep my head upright.

“Oh, my God,” Aimee exhaled.

I jerked my head upwards. “What?”

“There!” She pointed. I slowed to a stop, alarmed. Partially around the bend and just off the road, a vehicle lay overturned with the ground around it torn. Partially obscured by the overgrown brush, the moving figures near the wreck seemed unaware of our presence.

I studied the gas gauge- too low to turn around, and McFarland was the nearest town anyways. However, I knew that there was risk in staying as well; any time there was movement, there was cause for concern. If they were the undead, up ahead, then there was sure to be more nearby- they normally travelled in growing packs. If they were living… they could be far more dangerous. The undead had lost nearly every advantage that it had taken humans so long to develop. Fear wouldn’t save their lives and any sort of strategy was beyond them. What they did possess was an unquenchable hunger and a laser-like focus on a single purpose. The living hadn’t changed at all, except for becoming more desperate. Our weakness had always been in clinging to life; millions of years of biology forced us to reject death. This alone gave the undead the advantage.

I brought the binos to my eyes and brought the scene ahead into sharp focus. They were living, mostly. A brunette woman kneeled into the street, wailing passionately. Her hair was tangled and her clothes were torn; blood ran from her nose and ears and, in her arms, she clutched a child no more than ten years old. He was limp and still, and blood pooled from his body and stained his dirty blonde hair. A few feet away, an equally battered younger child stared at the pair in shock. In the driver’s seat of the overturned vehicle was the body of a man, barely recognizable as such, hanging limply from the seatbelt. I took in the tragedy of the scene- it could have just as easily been us. I handed the binos to Aimee; she watched silently.

“He’s not dead yet,” She said finally, still looking through the glasses.

“Which?”

“The boy. He’s breathing, but barely. He’ll probably die soon without some help. She’s holding him wrong, too- if his spine or neck’s hurt, she’s gonna make it worse.”

I was sure she was right, but in these times survival trumped altruism reliably. However, I was more interested in the supplies that had spilled into the road and spread among the wreckage. Pure, untainted water was precious, as were the boxes of batteries and cans of food.

If two of them were dead… they wouldn’t need as many supplies
, I reasoned to myself. I couldn’t tell anymore if it was morally right to be so self-serving, when your family’s lives were constantly in the balance. It reminded me of the old question about stealing bread- I realized that I would.

“Okay,” I agreed finally, “but no chances.” She knew what I meant and slipped her small revolved into her pocket before loading supplies and equipment into her medical bag. I pulled forward slowly; ready to accelerate if anything looked out of place. The woman snapped her head up as we approached, and she pulled the child protectively to her chest while holding the other to her side. She watched us with haunted, nervous eyes.

When I pulled the vehicle alongside the family, she pushed the younger child behind her. Neither of us moved, and neither spoke, each waiting to see what the other did first. I left the RV, preferring to run if I had to; I flipped the safety off my pistol, ready to fire. I rolled down the window and waited.

“Please, just take what you want and go,” she called over the purr of the motor-home.

“My wife’s a nurse. Do you need help?” Her cheeks were still moist with tears, although she had stopped crying. I saw that the boy’s breathing was ragged and shallow; my question was entirely rhetorical, but asking gave me the opportunity to judge her intent.

“Yes!” She burst into tears again. “My baby, my baby’s hurt.” She looked down at him and stroked his face. “C’mon, sweetie, open your eyes, c’mon.”

I slipped the gear to park and left the engine idling. “Wait there.” I felt stupid for saying that- she had nowhere to go. I unbuckled and crossed to the dining room bench seat, where Madi sat quietly. “Madi, me and your mom are going to go out-”

“I know,” she cut in. “I looked out the window already. There’s a little boy that’s dead,” she said quietly.

Aimee answered. “He’s not dead, but he might die soon. He’s was hurt in an accident, so I’m brining my doctor’s bag to help him.” Madi nodded.

“It’s just like before,” I added. “But this time, Mommy’s not going to be in there with you. I want you to be quiet, and try to keep Jake from crying. I know that’s a lot to ask from you, but I need to you to be a big girl, okay?”

“Is there something wrong? Why can’t we come outside with you?” She wasn’t convinced.

“Everything’s okay, it’s just better if no one knows that you’re in there, that’s all. We’re going to go out, you lock the door just like every other time. Don’t come out unless me or Mom tell you to, you got it?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Goof girl.” I kissed her forehead. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Hurry.”

I smiled, and then kissed Jacob. Aimee was already at the door, and Madi followed me to lock the door behind us. Aimee followed behind me as I rounded the vehicle, comforted by the familiar feeling of the pistol against my side. As we passed into view, Aimee passed me in a dead run for the mother and her child- they shared a bond that I couldn’t understand.

I caught up to Aimee as she was kneeling in front of the child. “He’ll be okay,” she said to the mother, who was only marginally comforted by the platitude; Aimee was probably lying, but she had to do that a lot on the job. She pulled a thin white sheet from her bag and laid it on the hard road. “Help me lay him down,” She ordered. “Keep his back straight.” Reluctantly, the woman obeyed as I kneeled next to the pair to help. Aimee tried to keep her talking, to keep her calm- its second nature to her in a trauma situation; keep a clear head and you make less mistakes. “My name’s Aimee. What’s your son’s name?”

“John,” She answered reflectively. “What’s wrong with him? Why won’t be open his eyes?”

“I’m going to take a look, but I’m sure he’ll be fine,” she soothed. “What happened?”

“We were driving and blew a tire. John, John senior, that’s their Dad, he couldn’t control the car and we flipped, we were just driving too fast. I got my son out, but my husband was stuck… I think he’s dead.”

The woman turned her head as I passed, watching me with suspicious eyes. I ignored her, scanning the road ahead for movement. Greedily, I eyed the scene of the accident and the resulting spoils. As she had said, the body in the driver’s seat was badly mangled; it was a miracle that anyone survived at all. Dirt rested throughout the vehicle, and weeds were growing through the broken windshield and twisted metal.

Weeds were growing through the windshield and twisted metal.
It hit me, and my muddled mind snapped into a harsh focus. This accident wasn’t recent.

My hand flashed to my coat, reaching for my weapon. She was faster. Her hands were a blur as she brought a canister to my face and pressed the release. Instantly, my eyes detonated with searing pain, forcefully closing and filling with painful tears. My pistol clattered to the ground as I brought my hands to my face, clawing at my useless eyes.

Aimee screamed. “What the-”, but was cut short by another sound of discharging aerosol. She screamed and I felt her bury her face in my shoulder and force us both to the ground. Betrayed, she screamed, “You bi-”, but her voice died out with the pain. I tried to retrieve the pistol I had dropped, but felt small hands pulling it away before I could gain a solid grip. Through swollen, tear-filled eyes, I saw the junior John leap to his feet, clutching the weapon triumphantly. After that, I couldn’t see anything at all as my eyes were forced shut by the swelling.

We had been deceived- the living hadn’t changed at all.

I continued rubbing my eyes, which lessened the pain only slightly, and felt Aimee writing by my side. I see blurred images through the narrow slits that my eyes would allow, and saw that the woman covered us with my own pistol as she checked our pockets. Finding Aimee’s small revolver, she handed it to John who set it aside obediently. She watched as we writhed on the ground, with mucus running freely from our nostrils and our eyes watering uncontrollably.

After a few minutes, the pain began to get bearable and I sat up; Aimee did the same next to me. The woman’s voice was tinged with genuine concern. “Are you two okay? I think that was too much- I’ve never done this before.”

“What do you want from us?” I asked. I was trying to sound aggressive, but my voice was unsteady with ache.

“Listen,” she started. She was armed and my wife and I were nearly blind and helpless- we listened. “We’re from Oak Bridge. It’s a real small town about a mile that way.” She paused for a moment; “Sorry, East. About a mile east. We thought we were safe there, we were so isolated; life just continued like normal for us when the flu hit and the rest of the world went to hell. But then those bastards started migrating. That’s what we called it, migrating,” she explained, then paused. I heard movement and assumed that she pulled her children close to her.

She sighed deeply and continued. “When they showed up, none of us saw it coming- we just weren’t ready. It was in the middle of the day, and it was John’s birthday; we didn’t think we had anything to be afraid of, figured that the government would take care of it so just lived life like we always did. All the kids in town were there with their parents, most everyone in town showed up. The kids were playing hide-and-seek.” Aimee and I sat still, not knowing if we’d live or die when the story was over, and didn’t want to rush her decision.

“We heard a little girl scream. I think it was the Martinez kid, she was the first one to come running up, anyways. Her brother was running behind her, crying and holding his arm. Even from where we were, we could see that his arm was covered with blood. I think we all knew deep down what was happening, but no one wanted to believe it right away. Their Dad ran to them, but by then everyone was panicking. When the first of the things came out of the tree line, everyone lost it. All of us.”