Decay: A Zombie Story (16 page)

“Almost there!”

We kept pushing through as the horde of undead were now pouring into the small pathway now littered with side mirrors and shards of metal and paint.

“Keep going! Keep going!” Mike yelled.

We had about the length of four cars to go until the path would widen and we could get onto the exit ramp. Some of the cars were slightly further from the guard rail while others were rather close. This made for a constant struggle to make it through.

Soon enough, the cars widened the path and we eventually got the truck all the way through the little lane and onto the exit. The undead were hot on our trail as I sped up and flew around the exit ramp.

We were probably going around thirty miles per hour, but it felt as if we were on two wheels around the bend compared to the five miles per hour trail we had just gone through.

MIKE

W
e were finally off the highway and onto some side road. Judging by the contrast between the amount of cars here and on the highway, it became apparent that we were likely on some kind of evacuation route. It also became apparent that those evacuating didn’t get very far.

After getting off the exit ramp, we soon passed the onramp and there were more bumper-to-bumper cars. I couldn’t help but think of Ellie and how they might have been on one of these routes. I somehow kept the thought from driving me mad and kept my eyes peeled for any signs of safety or shelter.

We passed many buildings, but had no indication as to whether or not they would be suitable living arrangements. So, we kept driving for a while through the abandoned town, passing tipped cars, and gatherings of infected people.

Sometimes we came across roads that would have the remains of a serious car accident. Some were so bad that we were forced to turn around.

Suddenly, the car began to slow down. I looked ahead, expecting to see a horde of infected standing in our path or another multi-car collision. Instead there was nothing. There were a couple of cars scattered along the roadside and a large brick factory building next to us.

“What’s happening?” I asked.

Joey quickly exited the truck and slammed the door behind him. “Out of gas,” he said bluntly while shaking his head. Then, Peter also got out of the truck, followed by Jen and Tara.

I hopped out of the back of the truck and examined the building. It was old and the signs on the outside were worn. This place could have very easily been abandoned or shut down some time ago.

We all left the truck and went to the large factory doors at the front of the building. We approached cautiously and I kept my gun pointed at the doors. Peter grabbed the handle while Joey took the other gun. We both locked our sights on the questionable doors and waited as Peter slowly pulled the large doors.

Surprisingly, they opened. A small dust cloud puffed up as the heavy doors opened. Joey and I looked around as the daylight poured into the seemingly abandoned building. Slowly, I entered and looked around.

There was another large set of doors straight ahead with a chain and lock around the handles and a sign overhead that read “Hardhats and safety glasses required beyond this point.” To the right of the large doors was a staircase, and to the left of the doors, were two rooms, likely bathrooms. They were marked with men and women symbols.

He flipped a couple of switches and light poured through the cracks of the locked doors. “It works,” he said as he continued flipping switches until the lights in the corridor came on, as did the lights leading up the stair case.

We proceeded to check the men’s and women’s rooms, which ended up being large locker rooms. They were empty, but there were things in the lockers—boots, hardhats, a couple of bags here and there.

This place wasn’t abandoned after all, at least not originally abandoned.

PETER

A
fter clearing the locker rooms, we were about to begin checking out the upstairs when we heard a pounding noise. It came from the other side of the locked doors. I placed my head on the door and listened for a moment. The pounding increased and it sounded as if there were multiple infected on the other side. I even felt the heavy doors shake as the pounding continued.

I looked back at Mike and he said, “Just leave it; they’re not going to get through those doors.”

I agreed and we began trekking up the ominous staircase. There were no sounds coming from any of the rooms. The stairs led to a long hallway with a few doors on each side; a couple of bathrooms, an office, a meeting room, and a break room. We checked out each room and found no signs of any recent activity—alive or otherwise. However, the meeting room had a large window that overlooked the factory—the work area behind those locked doors.

We looked and saw over a dozen undead stumbling around aimlessly. They had no idea we were here. But, they seemed a little confused, probably because of the lights.

The other rooms were pretty much what you’d expect. The office had nothing but a desk and a ton of paperwork. The bathrooms were bathrooms. The break room had a refrigerator with some soda, bottled water, and old lunches. Thankfully the fridge was still on; otherwise I didn’t know how bad those sandwiches would have smelled. There were also a couple vending machines, a similar assortment to that of Fix-It.

We made the decision to make this our new living space for now. As long as the lock held on the doors to the factory, we would be fine, and I saw no possible way a couple of undead could get through that.

After making the decision to stay, Jen lay on the couch in the break room and got some sleep. Tara and Joey found some cards and magazines tucked away and started looking through them. Mike and I found another door which led to the roof. Mike decided he wanted to check things out.

So, he did just that and went up to the roof. Not long after he was up there, I heard shouting. It wasn’t Mike. I couldn’t tell who it was.

As I listened for a moment, I heard someone yell “Freeze!” I had no idea what was going on, but there was someone here for sure.

I ran to a window in the break room and saw something or someone crouching behind the truck. I couldn’t make out who it was or how many were out there. I got up quickly and was going to run up to the roof when Joey stopped me and asked what was going on.

After I told him, he immediately grabbed the other gun and suggested we go down there. “Mike has the roof covered,” he said. “We can catch them off guard from ground level.”

Joey and I looked at each other for a moment before Joey reluctantly placed his gun on the ground. The two soldiers quickly approached the building, still clasping their guns in their hands. We stood in place as they approached us and kicked Joey’s gun out of reach.

Suddenly, the ground shook as a massive explosion knocked us off our feet. The boom echoed through the air. I couldn’t believe this. After everything me and my friends had been through, to now die in an explosion, it just didn’t seem fair. But sometimes, life isn’t fair; sometimes it’s just the way it is.

You can only do your best to survive.

The lights went out…

BONUS STORIES OF OTHER SURVIVORS

ANDREW HELMS

“
T
he time is now 12:20 a.m. on June 15th, 2007. Nearly two days since the outbreak of the Arthriphagy virus. We will be going to the Channel Five Emergency Broadcasting System. Please stay tuned to your local A.M. Radio stations. Thank you. And, good luck to everyone.”

T
hat was it; we were done—possibly forever. I had been a news anchor for just a few years and something told me I’d just covered the biggest story ever. Most people in my position would’ve been thrilled to accomplish such a feat, but I just couldn’t help but think that this was it. Not only the end of my career, but the end of everything.

By the time we went off the air, it was only me, the studio director, and an intern, remaining in the building. Most of the crew left on the 13th, after it hit the fan. They had families, friends and themselves to worry about.

Me, I just had some fish. I moved here from Michigan where my parents and sisters lived. I spoke with my mother when everything first broke out a couple of days ago. She assured me they were fine, but, the disease has since spread across the nation. There was no telling if they were okay.

Johnston, the director, was married to the job. I believe he had a wife at some point, but was now divorced. He was a tough guy. I think the gravity of the situation first sunk in when he gathered everyone in the studio on Friday and said, “There’s no telling how bad things are going to get. If you’re going to leave, do it now.” About half the studio took off at that point. Within the next twenty-four hours, everyone else made their escape as well. I figured Johnston would’ve been annoyed, but he just got behind the teleprompter and started taking over all the behind-the-scenes work.

Around 3:30 in the morning yesterday, we all took a break and replayed the crucial video packages on a loop. Other than the three of us, everyone else had left. Johnston approached Julia and I and said, “Just go if you’re going to.”

Julia was an eager young woman whom neither of us knew much about. She was straight out of school and mostly covered stories for the website, but had recently been spending more and more time in the studio.

She reminded me of myself when I broke into the business. I respected her. Johnston had put her on camera duty after giving her a brief lesson.

“I’m staying,” she said.

“Me too.”

We were there for the duration. After taking a break for a few hours and getting some sleep, I awoke to the smell of coffee filling the studio. Johnston had the brew going and it almost felt like everything was normal.

The smell of freshly roasted beans filled the studio as it did every morning. We all met in the studio and Johnston informed us of a new batch of stories we would air throughout the day.

Apparently, the President would be addressing the Nation later. These were the moments that made me realize we were covering something big. So, we did just that and worked rather smoothly together.

I think work became a vice for us. We didn’t have to deal with the terrors going on in the real world. We were simply reporting it and that casual work feeling we often got while reporting the news made us a little numb to the true severity of the situation.

Eventually, the President’s speech came on via satellite…

“My fellow Americans, today, the thirteenth of June, is a day that will live in infamy. The United States of America has seemingly been overrun with a virus that has been labeled ‘The Arthriphagy Virus.’ This is containable and without a doubt, curable. I ask those out there to seek refuge somewhere safe and secure, especially those on the West coast. Where there is little sign of infection, for safety sake, please relocate yourselves to a local safe zone. Those on the East coast, outside of a safe zone, please stay where you are, and signs on the rooftops are helpful to our search teams. Listen for helicopters. We have teams all over the country, as well as the best doctors in the world developing a cure as we speak. In no less than seventy-two hours we will have this situation entirely under control. Remain at your current location until our search and rescue units locate you. This is an obstacle like no other. We will overcome this. America will overcome. Mankind will overcome. May God be with us through these trying days.”

T
hat was one of the last things we reported. The President had done his best to assure the people that everything would be okay, but the tone of his voice and the look on his face suggested otherwise. After the speech, Johnston got word that we would be switching to the emergency broadcasting system. We were off the air.

After finishing the final broadcast, I sat at the desk, staring at the camera. I did so until Julia asked me, “Mr. Helms, are you okay?”