Dead World (Book 1): The Impetus (5 page)

“In the presence of humans that are not affected they will attack without provocation aiming to transmit the disease,” he continues, “We have isolated it down to a transfer of bodily fluids that is able to transmit the disease. If you are in the presence of any affected individual we recommend restraining them, in a locked bedroom for instance, and waiting until the authorities are able to provide assistance.”

He adjusts his coat again and looks back at the camera, “They are extremely dangerous so caution is recommended. We will report more as information becomes available.”

The camera pans back to the room and then cuts to the newsroom. Nancy is on screen again looking a little more organized, like the horrors of what she is seeing are galvanizing her. This is the type of world changing news she has been waiting to share her whole life and she isn’t about to give up now.

“We will continue to stay with you until we are able to find out more information. For now we will rebroadcast the warnings to everyone…” The TV begins to replay the events that have occurred and Isaiah looks up at his wife for the first time.

“We’ll wait till they come back and figure out a way to keep us all safe,” he reassures her by rubbing her arm. Tears are brimming in her eyes as she watches the news continue to unfold.

Chloe sits in the back bedroom drawing pictures like her mom asked her too. She is so small. So innocent.

“What are we going to do about Chloe?” Sasha asks, sitting down beside Isaiah and letting the emotion from the day come rushing out in tears.

Isaiah wraps his big arms around his wife and holds her for a long moment. “Everything is going to be OK. None of us are affected, and we will be safe here until help comes. It looks like Valentine has quite a bit of food in the fridge so we can wait this thing out.”

He tries to reassure her but he is just as afraid as she is. He is terrified of being helpless for his girls. They are the only thing in the world that keeps him going and the thought of losing one of them to those monsters is too much for him.

“I mean what were those things?” Sasha asks, “How can they just come back?”

“I’m not sure honey. There has to be an answer to it and I’m sure they are already working on a cure, I mean look how fast they responded to the situation.” The rapidity of change is astonishing to both of them. It hasn’t even been a full day and everything in their world has been turned upside down. “Why don’t you go lay down with Chloe for a bit. I will stay out here and wait for them to come back OK?”

Sasha nods and heads into the back room.

9

It’s dark outside and a heavy rain sluices through the streets of Downtown Denver. Parts of the city are still on fire. The dozens of emergency calls coming through his radio are overlapping into a constant background hum. Officer John Komine pulls his coat tighter around his considerable gut.

He was supposed to be off duty but with the world going to hell he was called into emergency reserve. He heard reports of cannibalism. Fucking impossible. Of all the things he never thought he would have to deal with that was right up there next to aliens.

Already upset because he should have been in bed relaxing, instead he is out here in the downpour trying to respond to a call that a homeless man was caught attacking a couple in their house. It was supposed to be a pretty low key call considering some of the other deployments, but that didn’t make him feel any better about it.

The lights on the top of his car spin, strobing everything in blue and red flashes. He’s parked in the cul-de-sac of an underprivileged neighborhood. It’s the type of place that would normally have problems and he doesn’t want to deal with any of them right now.

He sees his suspect wandering through the neighborhood. It doesn’t look like a homeless man, more like a young kid. He is wearing a red sweater, smeared and dirty. He hasn’t received any useful information for hours. Just that he is supposed to detain any individual that was acting infected. Whatever the hell that meant.

To John this was just one more job and he wants to be done as quickly as he can. He should have a partner with him on a call like this, but the force is stretched thin right now.

As soon as he steps out of the car the young man turns in his direction and starts stumbling towards him.

John is grateful because at least the guy isn’t trying to run. He is in no mood for a chase. Maybe he will just be able to cuff him and bring him in.

“Is everything ok here?” he asks as the young man continues to stumble forward. He waits for a few moments. The guy isn’t saying anything just walking right towards him. He must be drunk. And by the look of his sweater he has already thrown up everywhere. There is a thick dark fluid covering most of his sweater.

“Hey are you ok?” he calls out again. The young kid moves, hidden mostly in the shadows. Just a few steps and he will reach the pool of light cast by the street lamp.

Slowly John backs up and asks if the kid is alright again. He doesn’t understand why he isn’t answering. Must be drunk out of his mind, he thinks. He’s been on the force for a long time. Just a few years from retirement and he’s seen everything there is to see with people.

If John were not so tired from his 15 hour shift, if he took the time to think things through, then he might have taken more note of the strange behavior. He might have connected this with the chatter on the radio about violence, and keeping distance between himself and victims.

It is a simple lapse in judgement.

Years ago he grew accustomed to the stupidity that seems to follow people. They do dumb stuff and pay for it with a night in jail. Usually by then they have sobered up and the situation resolves itself

He doesn’t want to risk hurting the kid so he doesn’t reach for his baton or anything that would require too much force. The last thing he needs is the kid to wake up in jail and try to sue him for maltreatment or something like that. Then poof there goes his well laid plans for retirement. He hasn’t had many problems this far in his career and doesn’t want to start now.

“Look sir we’ve gotten reports that you were banging on doors in the neighborhood. I think maybe you should go on home.” 

Finally the kid steps into the light of the streetlamp and John takes an involuntary step back. Oh my god, he mouths the words. The kids face is mangled and bloody. The liquid he thought was vomit is thick black blood.

Part of his chest is destroyed. Gone. Just missing, like a rabid animal made a meal out of it. The last thing he notices and the worst part are the eyes. They are dead and blank, staring right at him as if John is the next meal.

The reports of cannibalism come back echoing through his head. He assumed it was a lack of accurate information. But here staring right at him is cold hard proof.

“You’re hurt.” He takes a step forward, steeling himself to apprehend the young man and bring him in. “I need to bring you into the hospital and we’ll deal with disturbing the peace later.”

John knows he has at least 30 pounds on the kid, and it looks like he is not going to be moving too fast either. John takes another step forward around the door of his police car. The spinning lights cast a crazy red and blue hue on the entire cul-de-sac, saturating the blood in Hollywood hues.

He walks toward the boy and puts his hands out to show him the cuffs. “I’m going to put these on you OK?” He is only feet away from him now.

With a sudden violent lurch the boy springs forward with speed John didn’t think was possible. Before he can react the kid has him off balance and John steps back heavily trying to right himself.

The boy doesn’t stop though. He lunges forward grabbing John’s arm and pulling it too his disgusting face. Before John can pull his arm away the kid latches his teeth into the skin of his forearm. John screams in pain as he falls back against the car. Several doors open and spill more light into the street as neighbors check on what’s happening.

Adrenaline is flowing now. John rolls to his feet. He uses his considerable weight to knock the smaller man to the ground and pins him with an arm behind his back. The kid strains so hard that he can feel the bone in his shoulder dislocate from the force.

John holds him in place as best he can while he tries to get the cuffs on the boy and after a few agonizing moments he hears the click as the lock slides home. The whole time the boy is twisting his neck and snapping his teeth trying to take another bite out of him.

The only thing that comes to John’s mind is zombies. He’s seen a few movies with his son, stuff like Night of the Walking Dead, and this is always how the victims acted; those lifeless eyes and the desire to feast on the living. But this is too much.

Fear grips his chest. His hands feel heavy. In the movies they spread that shit with bites.

John grunts a laugh. Those are just movies.

He forces the kid to stand and walks him to the car being careful not to get bitten again. When he is finally inside the car he slams the door on the boy’s face no longer caring if the kid gets injured.

Whatever the hell is going on he knows he needs to get back to headquarters and talk to his chief. This has to be something big if people are acting up like this going on in other parts of the city. He imagines what it would be like to have dozens, hundreds of people out of their mind. There is no way the police could stop them. Not without deadly force.

John gets behind the wheel of his car and turns the lights off. The boy is still snapping at him in the back seat. Straining his face against the bulletproof glass to get at him.

“Calm down.” He yells back at him. His patience is all used up. He wasn’t even supposed to be out tonight and now he has an injury that burns like fire in his arm and he is going to have paper work that makes the injury pale in comparison.

Angrily he starts the car and jerks the steering wheel into a turn. There is a throbbing pain in his arm and his head feels light. He races down the street and takes a sharp left onto Joliet, headed back to his station. The last thing he remembers, before he loses consciousness and his car slams into a tree, is the sound of the boy struggling to escape the back seat.

His car swerves, narrowly missing a snarl of traffic before wrapping around an old elm tree. Smoke pours from the wreck.

A few people stop to call the police, the irony that they are calling for a police car not lost on them. They are looking for help but the lines are mostly busy or dead and the few people that try quickly give up and keep moving. Just trying to distance themselves from downtown.

10

Daniel walks behind Valentine into the hall. It’s well-lit and the pungent smell of curry permeates the air. The carpet is green and blue checker pattern and the walls look freshly painted.

“We have some Indian neighbor,” Valentine says. 

“Smells good,” Daniel says with a laugh.

They walk in silence down the rest of the hall. Valentine knocks on the door producing a hollow thud. Daniel can hear the muffled sound of the TV from inside the apartment. It takes a long moment before they hear movement but after a while the lock clicks and the door swings inward.

An elderly gentlemen stands in the doorway. He is thin, frail like an old book. His eyes are red and puffy, but his face brightens a bit when he sees Valentine.

“Hi Valentine,” he smiles at her weakly, light doesn’t seem to reach his eyes.

“Hey,” She responds, “Are you ok? We were out there when everything went bad and we wanted to come make sure you’re ok. How is Margie?”

“She isn’t good,” he replies, scrubbing his face with the back of his hand like he is fighting back more tears. “Come in, please come in.” He opens the door wider and steps aside so they can enter.

“What happened?” Valentine asks, “Have you been watching the news?”

“Yes, Yes I have. My Margie said she wasn’t feeling well. I tried to call the police and the ambulance but everything was busy. I called so many times and then when I went outside to try to find help I saw the bodies in the street out there.”

“Oh my god. Are you OK?” Valentine asks. Daniel knows it is a strange thing to ask. It seems like people only ask if you’re OK when it is obvious that something terrible has just happened.

“Yes dear I’m fine, I worry for Margie though. She took some medicine and now she’s laying down in the room.”

They follow him through the hallway and he sits down at a couch, motioning for them to do the same. The place has the comfortable smell of grandparents, like they were just baking cookies or something. There is a Coca Cola motif about the room and Daniel is reminded of his grandparents who always had the strangest decorations too.

“Oh I’m so sorry to hear that,” Valentine responds.

“She’s in the bedroom. I’m not sure what to do Valentine, I went to check on her and she barely seemed to notice me,” he says and his voice breaks. He bows his head and cries into his hands a moment and Valentine stands up resting her hand on his back. “I’m worried she may have had a stroke.”

“I’m so sorry Mr. Greene. I’m so sorry. I wish I could do something to help.” Valentine looks at Daniel with eyes asking what can be done.

“It’s not your fault dear. Margie always thought of you as a daughter since all of ours moved away. I just wish I could know they are OK.”

“I’m sure they’re fine sir,” Daniel says, “I know it seems real bad out there but the authorities are going to take care of everything.” They sit in silence for a moment. The TV plays in the background but Mr. Green mutes it.

Scenes of violence play over it, none of them are watching as the reporter on screen is surrounded by a mob of people who are walking right into cops and pulling them down.

A noise from the back room causes them all to look up. The apartment has the same layout as Valentine’s and Mr. Greene stands up at the noise.

“What was that?” Daniel asks.

“Maybe Margie is waking up.”

Valentine reaches up and grabs his hand and gives it a little squeeze.

“I should go and check on her,” he says. The old man moves sluggishly, his shoulders hunched. His hands are large and calloused. He wears a thin sweater over a button down shirt and brown slacks.

He walks back towards the room with a heavy gait. The way everything happened today seems to weigh on him, life just pressing him into the floor. Mr. Greene must know that she didn’t have much time left but then again neither did he. They deserve to be able to meet their end together. Not like this. Not when the world was going to hell.

The noise continues. Like someone is brushing against the walls, and the door.

Mr. Greene opens the door and lets out a scream. He falls back into the hallway and Daniel sees Margie for the first time. Her lank gray hair frames her head in a rough halo. The room behind her is dark with shadows. She moves with a sort of jittering urgency.

She’s wearing a light green sweater and pants. They look like they could be an old couple in a Hallmark card. Everything except for her eyes. Her eyes are dead and filmed over, like she had cataracts. But she still watches Mr. Greene, dim awareness in her lifeless eyes.

Margie launches at him with startling speed that she couldn’t have possessed in life she smashes into the older man and knocks him into the wall. He puts his hands up and tries to get out a word.

But it comes out as a gurgle of blood as his deceased wife bites into his neck. An arc of visceral fluid sprays from the wound. Mr. Greene clutches at his neck as he falls to the ground. Margie claws at his body as his life force pools onto the ground.

Valentine cries out and takes a step forward. The whole scene happens so fast that neither of them have time to react. But the scream is enough to alert Margie of their presence. Her head snaps up and her dead eyes set upon both of them. Gore drips from her chin and covers the front of her sweater. She stumbles to her feet and begins running towards Valentine as fast as her legs will carry her.

Daniel reacts without thinking, his body floods with adrenaline and he steps between them pushing the old lady as hard as he can. She was small like her husband, and even frailer. She flies into a bookshelf knocking loose the collection and landing in a heap.

It isn’t enough to stop her though

She is trying to untangle herself as Valentine screams again. Daniel grabs her arm and pulls her around so she will look away.

“We need to get out of here now,” he yells and he pulls her away. Valentine moves almost unwilling at first, struggling with what she is seeing.

They saw some horrible things on the street earlier and then on the news later but watching it take hold of someone she was so close to is enough to shut her down. Daniel screams at her to move again as he pulls her. If they don’t move she will end up just like Mr. Greene who now lays still. The blood pooled around his body.

Daniel pulls them towards the door and as soon as he pushes Valentine through he slams it shut behind them. Just as he shuts the door he hears the thud of Margie throwing her body at it, and then the sickening sound of her clawing at it still aware of them on the other side.

Daniel slides down the door breathing heavily from the sudden exertion. His heart is racing with fear and he rubs his hands over his face roughly.

“What the hell was that?” he asks the air in front of him.

Valentine stands with a blank face, her eyes wide, staring at the door and the sound of Margie’s scratching.

Daniel knows things just got way worse. They were horrible in the past 12 hours already, but this is a whole new level of crazy. As he sits leaning against the wall the only thing he can think of is Margie’s eyes.