Dead World (Book 1): The Impetus (4 page)

7

David stares at his homework. He has been working on this problem for an hour now but the complexities of algebra continue to evade him. The TV in the background drones on, a rerun of some trashy housewives DVD his mom loves. Rain is pouring down outside.

The flower print of the kitchen table is torn. The wall paper is peeling and stained yellow from smoke.

He chews the end of his pencil and looks up. His mom is passed out on the couch. Her boyfriend left a few hours ago but the unfinished remains of their meal is still mixed with empty bottles of beer strewn around the living room. Frustrated David drops his pencil and pushes back from the table muttering to himself.

“Why the fuck should I even do this?” Especially given that he got sent home from school because some of the students supposedly went crazy and attacked each other. He heard it was happening worse in other places.

Maybe they would just cancel school tomorrow too, he hopes.

He always wanted to do something more with his life than anyone else in his family, but right now it would be so much easier to just run from it all.

He walks out into the hall quietly. Not that it would matter, his mom is practically comatose and a truck driving through the living room wouldn’t wake her.

In the hall a picture of his brother hangs, off center. As he passes by he fixes it remembering why he needs to be better.

His brother got caught up in the wrong crowd. He started dealing drugs through one of their moms many boyfriends. It all started so he could help provide for the family. Their dad walked out when David was too young to remember him, but unfortunately that didn’t pay the bills. And landlords don’t take sob stories as rent.

Drugs were the obvious answer. Things got bad. Like they always do, and David’s brother ended up on the wrong side of the wrong type of people. They shot him 17 times. Overkill. They probably killed him with the first shot. But the thing about these types of people is that they need to prove a point and that’s exactly what they did.

David lets go of the picture. He always liked to make sure it was straight but right now he can’t seem to make that happen. He was supposed to go to high school and then college and make something of himself.

Staying motivated with a mother who couldn’t give a shit became almost impossible.

Frustrated, he zips up his red sweater and walks out the front door into the chilly night air. It is way too late for him to be out and he knows someone should care enough about him to tell him to get back inside. But he also knows no one in his life will ever say that to him.

Since homework is going nowhere he decides to go out for a bit instead.

Shutting the door quietly behind him he walks to the end of the street. The streets are still wet from the downpour, but the rain has died down to a drizzle and the fresh air helps clear his head.

Sirens wail in the distance, nothing new in this neighborhood. He barely even hears them they are so commonplace.

The nice thing about walking at night is that if you choose to you can go for miles without seeing anyone alive. The cars pass by but he doesn’t count them. They are just metal shells and the coming and going of their lights is of no concern to him.

Stepping across the road he makes his way to a rundown park. The plastic slide is melted through in spots, kids playing with lighters. Graffiti covers the tubes and the gravel smells like cat piss.

He used to play here as a kid. It seems so long ago now but the swings still work, mostly. It’s not a nice park but it is the only thing he has so he sits on a swing and tries to forget about everything for a moment.

From the dark side of the park he sees a figure walking. The stumbling gait is strange, probably just drunk homeless person. He watches for a while as the figure slowly works towards the path that has a set of lamps providing orbs of fluorescent light. Light, dark, light, dark, the figure approaches and David is able to make out that it is a woman. Her arm is tucked up in front of her body, like she is cradling it.

She continues her aimless shamble without any apparent purpose. David feels the breeze against his back but doesn’t think anything of it. It blows by, her mottled hair shifts in the wind.

Suddenly she jerks her head in his direction. David leans forward in the swing. She is probably 50 yards away but in the dark it is hard to tell for sure.

“Hey lady, are you ok?” He calls out to her. She begins to shuffle towards him with more urgency, reaching up her good arm in front of her. It’s not quite a run, but she is moving as quickly as she can.

David hops down off the swing and tries to get a better view of her. Crossing into a light patch he can see that she is wearing something like scrubs. They are all tattered and it looks like she slipped in mud or something.

“Hey, should I call a doctor or something?” He tries again. Which he thinks, is strange, because if she is wearing scrubs then she probably came from a hospital.

Finally she is within just a few yards and the smell hits him. It smells like she shit herself and rolled in it before going out for a late night stroll. David recoils as she passes into fully light spot, right beneath a park lamp. Her tucked arm is dislocated. It looks like she got run over and pulled under the vehicle for a while. Blood covers the side of her head but it’s not flowing anymore. The hair is matted down in a gory mess. Something is severely wrong right now. David catches a glimpse of her nametag. “Ashley”.

David puts up his arms. “Hold on Ashley stop.” He begins to say but is cut off by a moan.

It is the creepiest thing he has ever heard, like some kind of fucking zombie movie. He stumbles backward but she moans again. So animal and yet so grotesquely human at the same time, and if he is honest with himself, she sounds hungry too.

David turns to run from her but it is too late. He stumbles trying to turn around and trips on the edge of a slide. Halls to his face, scraping his cheek and getting a face full of cat piss gravel. The air is knocked from his lungs, but he rolls over trying to keep moving. 

She is on him before he can get to his feet.

He was never the biggest guy but fighting is nothing new to him so he rolls to get her off of him and succeeds in buying himself some space. He pulls back his arm and lands a solid punch on her jaw. The skin on her face is gelid, like punching cold grease.

He strikes at an awkward angle from where he is lying. It should have at least stunned her. She doesn’t even react.

She reaches with her one good arm and grips his wrist pulling her to him and tearing at his flesh. David rolls and kicks and fights with everything he has, but she found purchase despite her small frame she doesn’t seem to tire.

David screams in agony as her teeth sink into the flesh of his neck and a surge of pain flares through his body. It’s as if ice and fire pour from his neck into his limbs and he feels himself seize up. His muscles no longer willing to work he rolls over thrashing uncontrollably.

Ashley is undeterred.

There is still life left in him. She goes into a frenzy once his blood is spilled. The melee lasts less than a minute.

David can feel blood pouring from his neck. He feels the vicious bites and scrapping from his attacker. Pain drowns out everything else. Confusion and animal instinct mingle with the horror of his own spilled blood as he realizes he is dying.

The rain mixes with his blood, pooling in the playground.

First he loses control of his limbs and after what seemed like an eternity he feels his consciousness leave his body. Darkness rolls in like a black fog and he embraces the welcome oblivion.

Ashley stops her feeding as the young man’s life drains from his body. Now that he is dead she is no longer interested. She stands up, and stares blankly around the park. His blood is spilled all over her face, splashed down the front of her already filthy scrubs. The rain did little to clean off the ruin of his viscera. Slowly she takes a jerking step forward, leaving the park.

Hours later David’s deformed body begins to stir. He is missing most of the left side of his torso and the muscle of his shoulder is completely gnawed away. He moves regardless, his arm swinging uselessly at his side.

His dead eyes open for the first time.

8

Daniel stares at his plate. The whole group is gathered around the kitchen table. No one says anything.

They eat their food silently, and silently wish they knew what to say. Outside, the world has gone from bad to worse overnight.

They found a news station and they watched it for a few hours but all it offered was talk in uncertain terms about the violence and what might have caused it. As far as they can tell it the epidemic is a widespread problem, and has happened in a lot of major cities.

No one had any useful information, and the news agencies were not giving any statistics yet, but it couldn’t be good. They did say that it happened in waves, like throwing a handful of pebbles into a pond. Ripples will form from each pebble, stopping only when they crash into other waves.

Daniel assumes they must have been right in the middle of one of those ripple effects when it started.

Of course the news said that the military and police were cooperating to help stabilize things and that gave them some hope, however small. They haven’t heard anything since.

Sasha stopped making calls a while ago. Valentine tried her sister a few more times but there was nothing on the other end. Daniel thought of calling his parents, they deserve the call, but he is too afraid of them not answering to try it.

He reassures himself that it is like Schrodinger’s cat. As long as he doesn’t know then they are both alive. He doesn’t want to know the truth.

“So you’ll all stay here tonight right?” Valentine asks the group before scooping a mouthful of rice.

“If that’s alright with you,” Sasha replies, “we won’t be any bother for you.”

“No, of course you are welcome to stay. It’s safer here than it is out on the streets at last until they get everything sorted out.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Isaiah says, “The police will have a lot to sort through but everything will get taken care of.” He smiles at Chloe who smiles back. She has been doing better since she woke up, like she wrote off everything as a bad dream.

Valentine doesn’t have anything for her to play with. She offered to go ask her neighbor down the hall, who had a daughter around the same age. Isaiah refused, saying it wouldn’t be safe. In the end they were able to find some paper and Chloe spent the better part of the afternoon drawing pictures that she was showing them.

Daniel never had kids. He always thought he would want them, but when his fiancé had a miscarriage and the relationship fell apart after that, he wasn’t so sure. He couldn’t help but smile at how quick Chloe was taking to Valentine though.

He enjoyed watching them draw together. They set up the pens in the kitchen, since Valentine didn’t have crayons or markers, and they drew for quite a while. Both of them hunched over their little masterpieces giggling.

It was refreshingly normal after everything that happened, and it gave Isaiah and Sasha some much needed rest.

Daniel read somewhere that kids have a pretty good sense of moral judgment and so he assumed Chloe was just able to see Valentine for a good person. Truthfully, Daniel felt the same way. She took them in during all that happened and was now going to let them stay there. She never even stopped to question it.

Daniel was the only one who had yet to sleep. He wasn’t sure if he could right now. He wants to know they will be safe. All the adrenaline that flooded his system, and then disappeared just as fast, has left him bone weary. Just the simple act of keeping his eyes open while they eat is taxing.

“Maybe we should check if any of your neighbors are home?” Daniel says as they are wrapping up dinner. He needs to keep busy. Needs to keep himself from thinking.

Sasha is the first to finish. She is already clearing their plates and getting ready to wash the dishes.

“I don’t know. I don’t really talk to them besides Sarah, and even her not often,” Valentine says, “I guess it’s a good idea that we at least check on them.”

“Well I was just thinking maybe they’ve heard something we haven’t. It might be worth a shot,” Daniel says.

“I don’t know how they would have heard anything we haven’t, but maybe you’re right,” Isaiah adds.

“Down the hall at 16E is a nice older couple that I met when I first moved in here. They are always home it seems.” She laughs. Her laugh is like a chime. “It’s funny, it feels like a million years ago but they brought me cookies when I first moved in. I mean who does that? It only ever happens in the movies I thought.”

“Well then I think we owe it to them. And maybe they will have more cookies,” Isaiah says smiling at Chloe whose eyes light up at the possibility.

“Ok then its settled. Valentine and I will go check on them and see if they have heard anything,” Daniel says, “Sasha and you can stay here with Chloe. Maybe check the news again, see if anything new turns up?”

“Sounds good,” Isaiah says standing from the table and going to help his wife with the rest of the dishes.

Valentine runs into her room and comes out a few minutes later with a light jacket on. They head out into the hallway.

Isaiah watches them go and puts his hands lightly on his wife’s shoulders. “Thank god we were with decent people eh?” He says into her ear.

“Yes hun, it’s a blessing, no knowing what is actually happening out there.” She reaches back into the soapy water and pulls out a dish to scrub and for a moment they feel as if everything is going to be alright. Like just the way things are is perfect and maybe it will stay that way for a little while longer. “Chloe,” Sasha calls out, “Why don’t you come help me with the dishes while your father checks if there is anything new on the news.”

“Why can’t we go outside?” Chloe asks.

“It’s not safe honey,” Isaiah says. She has been taking this all remarkably well, and he prays that he can follow through with his promises to her. He pats Sasha’s back lightly and walks around the island tousling Chloe’s hair on the way to sit down at the couch. He grabs the remote and flips on the TV.

Thankfully the same station they were watching earlier is still reporting. Apparently the stations in Denver went down though, this is some emergency feed from somewhere in Washington D.C. Isaiah knows that’s a bad sign, but there is nothing for it than to wait this thing out.

“Why don’t you go back in the room, Chloe?” Sasha asks.

Chloe whines for a moment but Isaiah silences her, “Chloe, listen to your mother.” She nods and turns, dragging her feet along the carpet toward the bedroom.

On screen Isaiah sees a haggard looking Asian woman who would be pretty if it didn’t look like she has been through hell and back. Her perfect reporter hair is a tangled mess and her blouse is torn on one of the sleeves.

“Is this thing still running?” She asks someone off camera looking wild eyed. Behind her the newsroom looks eerily normal, like there is nothing out of place except for her. “Ok good.” She nods before she begins speaking back to the camera.

“A few hours ago we began receiving reports of massive rioting and destruction of property. There is no known cause. However, it has been observed that groups of people are affected by a sort of mass hysteria. They will become extremely violent, attacking anyone nearby, often without regards to their own safety. It is recommended that you stay indoors while the proper authorities are able to contain and handle the outbreak,” she takes a deep breath and looks off camera again.

Isaiah is surprised they are still reporting at all, from the looks of it things are not much better off there than they were down in the streets.

She reaches up and touches an earpiece. A line of blood trickles down from a cut on her forehead that they tried to cover with makeup.

“We are receiving new information; we have a reporter on scene at Denver Health who will provide us with more details,” she shifts in her chair a bit “Go ahead Susan Rutherford”

“Hi, thanks Nancy,” a young blonde woman appears on screen outside of a hotel.

The scene in the background is horrifying, there is a glow of fire and it looks like rioting off in the distance. Susan is surrounded by cops who have their batons drawn and are threatening to swing on anyone approaching.

“This is Susan here outside the Willard Hotel. From what we can tell those who are affected go into a hyper violent state that results in cardiac arrest after only minutes of aggression. The police have been trying to control the rioting as much as possible. It is currently unknown whether or not the military will be called to intervene to try to control the rioting,” she says, trying to maintain calm.

“There have also been isolated reports of cannibalism from the aggressors. While these have not been confirmed by official sources we strongly recommend you stay indoors.”

Behind her a swell of people come out of the hotel. They are moving with an awkward stuttering gait. They cover the distance quickly and descend upon the cops that surround her.

One of police screams in the background and causes her to spin around. The cop is slammed under a press of bodies and the other police begin hitting people with their batons. It doesn’t seem to have any affect though as they simply walk through the blows pulling down the cops.

Screaming erupts from the scene and the reporter yells “Oh my god!” The camera swings wildly, and then the screen goes blank.

It switches frames back to Nancy behind her desk. Nancy stares, her eyes glazed and her hands shaking, for a second before she realizes that it has switched back to her. It takes her a few more moments to collect herself even after she notices.

“What the hell is going on out there?” Isaiah asks to no one in particular. It looks like things just went from bad to worse. His heart sinks; he knows that his family is stuck right in the middle of whatever is happening out there.

“Ummm….” she begins, “Susan will be back on the air with us momentarily. As soon as they have things sorted out.”

It’s clear they never thought they would have to use whatever training they had for this type of event. Even if they did have a plan for when things got bad it didn’t involve any of this, and she has no idea how to handle it.

“The rioting,” Isaiah hates that they keep calling it rioting. This is much worse than that and he knows it, but the news is trying to make it seem like they still have things under control, “continues and we will do everything we can to keep you informed,” she says, rushing through the impromptu script.

A scroll of text begins working its way across the bottom of the screen and Isaiah watches as it proclaims a plummeting stock market, apparently this problem is more widespread than he initially thought. People are trying to get all their money out before the obvious economic ramifications of this day take hold.

It also talks about cities, where it has been the worst and what areas to try to avoid. Denver is listed as quarantined, no communication. Again they urge people to stay put and lock their doors. Like that’s going to do anything. If those people are attacking uniformed police officers what will stop them from hurting his family?

Nancy is still on screen shuffling papers around. Suddenly her eyes go wide as she reads a prompt from behind the camera. She takes a deep breath, clears her throat deliberately and looks right into the camera, “We have received reports that those affected by the…” she stumbles for the right word for a moment. “Disease are reanimating hours later.” She says it like she can’t believe it. Who could?

“They are proceeding to attack anyone nearby. If you know of anyone affected from earlier it is recommended that you restrain them as quickly as possible for their safety as well as yours.”

Isaiah watches this unfold, stunned. What the hell are they talking about? The dead don’t just come back, it’s not possible. He feels his wife’s hand rest lightly on his shoulder and he shudders.

“We will be going to doctor Shearing at his lab outside D.C. where he is investigating the nature of the disease.” Nancy says.

Isaiah lets himself feel hope because everyone is responding so quick to these developments. He knows it is still a dire situation, but it seems like all the right people are on it and it gives him a glimmer of possibility, like a life vest in a hurricane.

The TV flips screens again and it shows the inside of a sterile lab room. There is medical equipment everywhere and as the camera pans across it reveals an elderly looking doctor with gray hair cropped short and hard angular lines to his face. He adjusts his coat and looks into the camera before speaking.

“This is doctor Shearing, I will get right to it as I fear time is of the essence,” he steps aside and the camera pans to a man restrained on a table.

The man on the table is wearing a hospital gown and is strapped to the metal surface. His jaw snaps open and closed. As the camera focuses on him Isaiah notices his eyes. They are filmed over, like the eyes of a dead man.

A lump forms in Isaiah’s throat as he thinks about what the reporter in front of the hospital said and connects it with the scene in front of him. The patient is struggling against the bonds to no avail but he is pulling so hard against the restraints that it cuts at his wrists and ankles. Disturbingly no blood comes out, just a blackish oily fluid.

“From what we can tell there is some sort of necrosis virus that is affecting these individuals. They have a breakdown in mental capability and are prone to violence. Without external stimulation they will go into a period of hibernation while they wait for other humans.” The doctor looks at a series of notes, then at a computer screen. Checking for vitals.