Infection: Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (26 page)

Neil started to explain that they were just trying to prepare for contingencies, when he was interrupted by a quiet, but clearly audible electronic tone that repeated and repeated and repeated. It was a cell phone. It was Rachel’s cell phone. She realized it almost immediately. Her phone was in her jacket and her jacket was...outside.

She now remembered that she’d taken it off to help Emma, the police officer, and the doctor while they were trying to climb up onto the deck. It was still sitting out back on the side railing of the deck. It was outside ringing and ringing.

Rachel, who was sitting in the living room hanging out with Jules, leapt to her feet and ran to the back door. She saw her jacket and flew outside to retrieve it. She fumbled with the pockets until she found the phone and powered it off.

Neil looked at her with both hope and terror in his eyes. She shook her head and said apologetically, “It was just my alarm. It’s time for my annual doctor’s appointment. I turned the phone on earlier to see if we’d gotten a cell signal yet and I guess I forgot to turn it off. Sorry.”

Jerry, who had positioned himself at the front window, said, “Uh, guys? They know that we’re here now. Come take a peek.”

Outside in the street, the crowd of zombies, who had been just gathering and waiting, all began to turn and walk over to the house. Their movements, which had become slow and stiff, became more organic. Their steps picked up pace as the excitement grew in the crowd. They had been detecting odors of the living for some time, but hadn’t been able to pinpoint the source. The noise was all that it took.

There were probably more than a hundred of them in the street by then. They gathered around the front of the house and began to pound the siding with their fists, their feet, and even their heads. A few made their way up the short flight of steps leading up to the porch and started to bang on the front door.

Neil’s fear suddenly gripped him again. They didn’t have much of a choice any longer. They were going to have to go outside and face these things. Their refuge had been compromised and it was just a matter of time before it would be breached. He felt that familiar chill on his arms, his legs, and up his spine. He also felt a sense of despair start to nag at him. He had begun to believe that they might all make it out alive, but that feeling all at once faded. He knew that they were in trouble.

Rachel could tell that she had just let the air out of everyone’s balloon. She was crying and begging for forgiveness. Kim left the front window, having seen enough already, and went over to Rachel who was sitting on the floor. Rachel’s long permed blonde hair was covering her face as she slumped forward. Her tears, obscured by the blonde curtain, coursed down her splotchy red cheeks and dampened her too-tight scavenged sweater. Kim tried to console her by rubbing her hunched shoulders and speaking kind words, but she knew it was all for naught.

Under her breath Rachel sobbed to herself, “I’ve doomed us all.” Kim wanted to tell her that it was just an accident and that all hope wasn’t lost, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Those words may have been the right things to say, but the words simply wouldn’t come.

Kim wanted to tell her that she was wrong. She really wanted to believe that Rachel was wrong, but the persistent silence that had reigned the streets for so many days refused to hear any of it. Kim’s doubt quieted her comfort to both Rachel and herself. She was understandably concerned that Rachel was painfully correct in her assessment. Of course Kim didn’t want to believe that, but Rachel’s words flashed bright and undeniable.

The pounding on the walls and doors was bad enough, but it didn’t appear to be all that they could expect. With the ghouls closer, a cloud of rot-filled air seemed to settle over the house, finding its way in through any seam or opening that presented itself. It was an odor that clung to clothing, carpet, and hair. There was no suppressing it with candles or air freshener—Kim tried. Jerry threw more wood onto the fire hoping that the warm air rising up the chimney would prevent some of the foul stench from trickling down. Nothing they did seemed to make any difference at all. After trying to deal with it for quite some time and nothing working, they all seemed to accept the fact that the reek was there to stay and the only way to get away from it was to get away from the house.

Neil remembered a segment from a history book in a college class from years ago. It was an entry about the American Civil War and, more specifically, the aftermath of the Battle of Gettysburg...or was it Antietam? He couldn’t remember for sure. What he did recall about the passage was the description of the battlefield. It was so vivid to him. The writer described a scene with bodies still strewn across farm fields several days after the battle’s end, on roads and footpaths, near streams and amidst trees. The writer wrote about the pungence that seemed to permeate the very air being breathed...of the sense that the air itself was poison. He thought about that passage as he struggled to breathe shallowly, trying not to inhale any more of the reeking foulness than he absolutely must in order to survive. He felt himself stifle the urge from his churning, revolting stomach to vomit several times early on during that day.

Dr. Caldwell offered a temporary and less than ideal solution. He took a bandana from a drawer in a child’s bedroom, soaked it with perfume, and then tied it over his mouth and nose. It wasn’t perfect, but it made it so that he could keep working without having to fight the rising nausea every few moments. The others followed his lead; using any cloth they could find to become a makeshift surgical mask. To observe them was like watching a ragtag and under-equipped aid group dealing with a plague in a third world nation. They were all sweaty and filthy and their masks were rapidly becoming dingy.

Jerry, Meghan, Kim, and Dr. Caldwell were all rolling blankets into tight bundles in preparation for making a run for a new refuge. Neil and Tony were downstairs in the garage loading supplies into and onto the van. The stark reality of their situation was clearly evident to all of them though. They only had a minvan, which typically could seat seven safely, in which to transport nine adults and two children. Neil thought they could pile supplies onto the top of the minivan, despite the fact that there wasn’t a cargo rack on the vehicle. He felt that they could position items on the top and then tie them down so that they could mutually support staying in place. He didn’t know if it would work or not, but he was willing to try and Tony was more than willing to help.

Of course, while they worked, a legion of undead pounded themselves against the closed garage doors. Their persistent and mind-numbing moaning was all the more loud in the garage than it was in the much more insulated house. The constant sound solicited a nausea that was not unlike motion sickness.

“Could it get any worse?” asked Tony to no one in particular.

Neil looked at him sardonically and said, “One thing I’ve learned lately is to not ask that question because—”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

“Let’s just get this all taken care of and then figure out what our next step is.”

“You got it boss. Do you really think that we can get away from here?”

Neil had his doubts; they all did. He had to believe that it was possible though. If he couldn’t believe that, then why was he down in the garage loading up the van?

Back upstairs, all of them were in the living room trying to decide the answers to Neil’s questions. Officer Ivanoff had joined them again, though he sat on the floor at the top of the stairs away from the larger group. He was sharing the same room, but the distance separating him from the others was still all but insurmountable.

Rachel asked, “Why don’t we just sit in here and shoot all of them down from safety?”

Kim joined in, “Yeah, maybe if we kill enough of them then the others will get the point that we’re not on the menu. I mean...any reasonable—”

Jerry jumped on that comment. “Reasonable? Don’t kid yourself. Don’t any of you make that mistake. They...these things don’t have the faculties for reason anymore. C’mere.”

He led Kim to the window and directed her eyes. “There. That one. Look at it. Do you see it? The one that used to be a bald guy? Looks like he might be wearing a butcher’s apron...how fitting. Do you see the one I’m talking about?”

“Yeah.”

“Look at his eyes. I mean really look at them. Do you see any inkling of reason left there? Look. Try to see any semblance of humanity.” To everyone else he continued, “These aren’t people anymore. They’re just barely animals. At least you can scare an animal off if you do the right things. These things don’t scare. They don’t reason...weigh their options. More importantly, they won’t hesitate and they won’t show you any pity. If you see one of those things that looks like someone you might have known, don’t expect it to show you any mercy. I’m only saying that to remind everyone how bad it can get if we’re not all on the same sheet of music. We’ve been relatively safe and very lucky so far. Don’t let that get any of us complacent.”

Answering Rachel’s original question, Neil said, “We don’t have enough bullets to shoot all of those things, and anyway, with each shot, we’ll probably attract more of them.”

Meghan asked him, “What are you thinking Neil?”

Remembering that hesitation kills, Neil jumped right into the obvious, “We can get all of us in the car and haul ass outta here. Getting started is going to be the hardest part of it. Once we get going though, if we don’t slow down at all, I think we can get away from the crowds. The only question is which direction? I think it’s safe to assume that both highways outta town will be jammed with stalled vehicles, so the car is only going to get us so far.”

Tony suggested, “Why don’t we just get away from these things here and find ourselves another hiding spot somewhere else?”

Dr. Caldwell asked, “And then what?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, after we find another hiding spot, how long do we stay there? We only have so much food and water. We can’t wait indefinitely.”

Kim asked, “What if we find another supply stash somewhere? Another store with some more food. Maybe we can find enough to...ah, never mind.”

Neil rubbed his chin and thought. That wasn’t a half bad idea. They could just get away from this crowd, avoid being seen by others, and then find a spot to hide away for a bit. If they chose the right spot in the right part of town, they could get close enough to a Fred Meyer or Carr’s to go scavenging for supplies. Maybe they could see if there was a way to wait this all out.

That was a big list of maybes. Perhaps the biggest list of maybes since Thomas Jefferson last walked through one of his busy cotton fields. Perhaps even a bigger list of maybes than when Neil went shopping for condoms for the first time before what was to be a very promising weekend—it wasn’t. With maybes though, there were options and with options there was the scant possibility of hope. Those thoughts ran through his head as a smile, the first in several days, spread, slowly and tentatively, across his face.

“Kim, that’s not a half bad idea. Let’s talk about that for a bit. We can take it a little bit at a time. No need to be in a rush. Let’s figure it all out, and, believe me, there’s going to be a lot to figure out before we hightail it outta here. I think the first thing we should get settled is where. Where do we head?”

They talked and talked. Everyone more or less agreed that they should start heading north. There were more avenues of escape in that direction...more options. Neil was really starting to appreciate options.

While they discussed it, Neil, Jerry, and Dr. Caldwell started piling firewood from the garage against the front door to try and shore it up a little. The physics of the porch out front made it all but impossible to have more than a couple of those things exerting pressure against the door, but they all decided that it was better to be safe than sorry. The added weight from the piled firewood helped to add a little security.

More of the ghouls had come to help with the siege and still more were on the way. A few remained in the street, but the vast majority of them were pressed against the front three walls of the house, pounding against them with their firsts, their heads, and their bodies. With all the pressure, Neil and the others were starting to get worried about the window downstairs. They’d covered it over with a large sheet of plywood and then covered the inside with a tarp, but it just didn’t seem enough to any of them anymore.

And it wasn’t. On the second day of packing and planning, the window, which was behind the plywood, shattered. It was still in its frame, but the glass was as webbed as an arachnid’s home. With no other options to cover the potential weak spot, Neil and Dr. Caldwell elected to remove a bedroom door from its hinges and hang it across the inside of the window.

The doctor said as they worked, “You know that if they get through the plywood outside that this door isn’t going to hold them at bay for very long don’t you?”

“Hopefully we won’t be here long enough to test that limit.”

“Yeah...hopefully.”

Sitting in the same room while they worked but never getting up from his roost on the small couch, Officer Ivanoff didn’t participate in the conversation and seldom took his eyes from the blank television screen. He would alternate between reclining back on the worn cushions of the seat and leaning forward with both of his hands on his knees. Several times, Neil and Doc Caldwell looked at one another when the man changed his position. The police officer was a problem all his own. Neil had heard the story about what happened between Emma and him. Dr. Caldwell had related it as candidly and dispassionately as he was able.