The Week of the Dead (8 page)

“How’s it coming?” she said as she glanced over her shoulder at the pair of boots sticking out of the driver side of the car. Her question was met with the familiar rumble of the engine of the minivan. Devin stood and made eye contact with her as she moved to climb into the passenger side.

She swung herself into the van, and she looked around the soccer-mom car. Her eyes focused on a child booster seat. “
Oh no
,” she thought. “
What’s happening?
” Her mind began to wonder as Devin peeled onto the street. He kept his eyes open as he weaved through lanes. “We need to head north. Which way?” he asked.

“I’d take I-40.”

“No, that’d take me back into the populated areas. We need rural. We need less people to worry about.”

“Highway 51. It’s rural once we make it out of Millington,” she said as she strapped on her seat belt. “The base is in Millington. Air Force. We might get some help there,” she said as she grabbed onto the handle above her head.

“Maybe, and we might get shot. Two things the military would do in a crisis situation: self-containment and self-preservation. Either they’ll defend themselves against anything, or they’ll destroy anything that poses a threat.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Defense and offense. Defense is where anything comes near the base, dead. Offense is where they destroy everything, dead.”

“How is that possible?”

“Nuclear weapons,” Devin said with a cold stare. After meeting her wide eyes, he followed, “But it probably won’t come to that. Not enough information. No one knows what is happening. The best we can hope for is the base empty, with the soldiers gone and deserted. Best-case scenario.” There was a brief silence in the car. “We need gas and food. I don’t know how long we can make it in this car.”

Class

Chapter 19

Monday 1324 CST

Memphis

E
than arrived to the third floor of Parrish building. Late to class as usual. Even though he lived near the campus, being an “adult” was still tough to get used to, even if he was a sophomore at The University of Memphis. “
Statistics. Great
,” he thought. He snuck in the back door and took a seat near the exit. “
Last in, first one.
” The instructor, Ashley McMiller, was a graduate student, but she enjoyed everyone calling her “Professor.” She thought that had a nice ring to it while she was finishing her schooling. She was facing the marker board explaining bell curves and other statistical matter. “Glad you could join,” Josh whispered to Ethan.

“What did I miss?”

“The usual; everything is going to be on the test. Math will save your life,” Josh whispered as he nudged Ethan’s elbow.

Ethan began to remove things from his backpack: notebook, pen, and he placed his cell phone on the desk. As he opened his notebook to begin taking notes on whatever the professor was talking about, there came a wave of vibrations across the auditorium. That was followed by a cadenza of beeps, whistles, eight-bit keyboards, and tidbits of popular ringtones. The room began busied with people shuffling in their seats, whispering to one another. Ethan sat still and watched as his cell phone began to flash and dance across the desk. His rubber cell-phone cover couldn’t contain the kinetic ballet of modern technology. He looked over to Josh who had a worried puzzled look upon his face. The ambient noise of Professor McMiller ceased to exist because her phone too began to rattle with excitement.

“Everyone, everyone. May I get your attention?” McMiller broke the chatter. “I have just received a text message that the school is to be evacuated immediately. Take your things, and go home. Keep your phones handy. We will hear when we shall return to class. I don’t know what’s happening. It’s probably just another bomb threat,” she said with a sarcastic tone. McMiller and her audience began to stuff things into book bags and head for the door. Ethan and Josh sat still, letting the crowd pass.

“What do you think, man?” Ethan said to Josh.

“Beats me, man. But I’m getting out of here regardless. Want to come over for a beer?”

Josh lived next to the campus in student housing about two blocks from the school. “Hell yeah, man.” As the two men got up, a single scream was heard from the back door, the way Professor McMiller had exited not too long ago. Every one stopped in their tracks to see McMiller running in her high-heeled shoes. She was being followed by a man in Memphis Tigers blue sweatshirt; the hood was drawn up. “No one panic. It’s just an idiot trying to spook us,” Josh said to the crowd.

“Everyone out. I have to pee. Make a hole,” Ethan said as he began shoving his way through the crowd.

As Josh placed his hand on the door, he heard a loud
thud
on the stage of the auditorium. He turned to see McMiller had tripped on her high-heeled shoes and she was holding her ankle. The man in the blue sweatshirt began pacing toward her and showed signs of foaming at the mouth. McMiller screamed as the she made eye contact with the man with his bloodshot eyes. “Hey asshole, she’s hurt. Joke’s over,” Josh said as he turned and crossed his arms.

The man continued to come closer to the professor lying on the floor. “Parker, help me,” McMiller shouted. Most of the classroom had emptied by now; all that was left were a handful of students, including Josh, Ethan, and a giant in Memphis basketball clothes. The giant man stood in the path between the sweatshirted man and the professor. “Get the hell outta here, dude. Don’t nobody want yo’ shit!” he said as the man in the sweatshirt changed his gaze to the tall man. “Yo, what’s wrong with you dude,” he said to the intruder. He was met with a snarl and an open mouth of teeth. “Fuck you, man!” he said as he swung his backpack into the open mouth.

The man fell backward from the blow. The basketball player went toward the professor, as Ethan and Josh met them. The basketball player stuck out his giant tattooed hand to the professor. “Here we are, ma’am,” he said as he hoisted the professor up with his slender frame. Ethan and Josh grabbed each arm of the professor and held on to her. “Turn around!” Josh said to the big man. The snarling man had returned to his feet in a stumbling manner. “Yo! You drunk or something?” he said, which was met with another snarl. He balled his fist at the bloodshot man who began pacing toward him.

The basketball player stood his ground. He reached back and planted his fist into the face of the approaching creature. “Yeah! Knocked you the fuck out!” he said as he squatted over his victim and began to mercilessly punch him repeatedly in the face. “Memphis style, bitch!” he said as he turned to face his spectators. Blood was rolling off his knuckles.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here!” Josh said as he was tired of waiting around.

Josh and Ethan were holding the professor while Parker, the basketball player, held the door. He had grabbed a teacher’s stool from the auditorium and held it in front of him like a battering ram with spikes. “Where are we going?” McMiller asked as she and the two men stepped in unison.

“My place is closer. I don’t live that far if you’re all cool,” he said as he made eye contact with Ethan for any other ideas.

“Got any beer?” McMiller said as she cracked a smile.

“We’re not out of this yet,” Parker said as he looked forward.

“How far is your place?”

“Two blocks, down Southern.”

“The Glen Apartments?”

“Yeah, you know the place?”

“Yeah. Who’s got a car?”

“I do,” Ethan said. “But it’s on the other side of campus.”

“Nope,” Josh recanted.

“I do, but my keys are in my office,” McMiller said.

“Looks like we’re walking,” Parker said as he wielded the lab stool.

“Here we go,” Parker said as they reached the door to the exterior of the building. He slowly pushed the door open. What he saw amazed him. People were running in all directions. Some being chased, some were just running out of fear or adrenal “Fuck,” Parker said as he slide the door closed.

“What is it?” Ethan asked.

“Chaos,” Parker commented.

“We’re going to have to run for it. You, dude. Your place, you lead the direction. Other dude and I will carry her,” Parker said to Ethan and Josh as he handed Josh the barstool.

“No way, man. You’re like seven feet tall. No way can we carry her together. Give me your bag, and you give her a piggyback.”

“Whatever, man, just don’t lose my shit!” The group readied themselves. They didn’t know what they were getting into.

“OK. I’m going first. Them in the middle, and Ethan, you’re in the back. You know where I live in case we get separated,” Josh said.

Ethan reached over and took something from an abandoned janitor cart. He twisted the head off the mop stick and tapped it against the palm of his hand.

The door was kicked open by Josh as he began to sprint across the campus. People were screaming. Car horns were blaring. People were running in every direction. Josh began to bob and weave through the crowd. Professor McMiller and Parker were right on his tail. Ethan was a few paces behind them carrying both his bag and Parker’s, along with his mop handle he used to swing at people. Gunshots began to ring out. Josh stopped dead in his tracks as he came face to face with an armed security guard carrying a shotgun. He had blood on his face and began to fire wildly into the air around him, not caring what he wasn’t aiming at. Ethan had surpassed Josh and the Parker/McMiller group as he held out the mop handle; he ran toward the security guard and broke the mop handle against his face and began to repeatedly make
whap
noises in the air as he swung the mop handle over his head.

He let out a throaty moan as he began to remove the shotgun and pistol belt from the security guard. “Truck! Now!” Ethan said as he handled the keys from the guard’s belt. Josh jumped into the back of the truck as Parker rested Professor McMiller on the tailgate and hoisted her into the bed of the truck. Parker jumped in and banged his hand of the outside of the truck to signal Ethan he was ready. “Petal to the metal! Go! Go! Go!” Ethan took the hint and revved the security truck over the grass away from anything resembling asphalt. There were train tracks that separate the university to Southern Avenue. While it was good for transporting goods, building a university next to train tracks was a horrible plan. Nevertheless, it happened. The students hated it. Most of the train traffic happened at night while they were sleeping. Everyone had a joke that the conductors blew the horns at night to keep the drunks off the tracks. Most believed it was the reality that people worked at night, and they were pissed people were still asleep.

“
To hell with this!
” Ethan thought as he pressed the horn and drove the pickup over the tracks with two
thumps
of the tires leaving the ground and slamming back down to earth. Ethan weaved a hard right down Southern. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” he shouted as he paid no attention to the others on the road. He narrowly missed a man in an orange University of Tennessee hoodie. Ethan turned a hard left down to a cove of Josh’s apartment complex. He stopped the truck to a screeching halt as he quickly shifted into reverse and backed the truck up slowly into the driveway. He exited the truck carrying all of his, Parker’s, and the security guard’s belongings. He walked over to the other side and began to rummage through the glove box looking for anything valuable. He found a spare box of pistol rounds and a Zippo lighter. Josh and Parker were dismounting from the tailgate as Ethan met them carrying the shotgun in a controlled manner. “Welcome to
mi casa
,” Josh said as he readied his keys. Parker carried McMiller in his arms, bridal style, and Ethan backstepped as he took a look around the complex. The row of trees blocked out most of the buildings, cars, and carnage of what they had just left. He stepped into the house and closed the door.

The Gas Station

Chapter 20

Monday 1505 CST

Memphis

D
evin and Erica drove back out of the neighborhood. He turned the steering wheel back to the left. “I want to make sure,” he said as he slowed the car to a roll. The house he had grown up in was now a burning pile of wood. There were things moving around inside the house. Most of the movements were slow as they fell to their knees and dropped below his eyesight. He looked at the roof that had caught fire. The shingles from the roof gave off a black smoke and a foul smell. Erica pointed out the window at something. Devin ducked his head to peer out the window to see a booted foot sticking off the eve of the house. “Shit,” he said in a hushed tone.

“I’m sorry, Devin,” Erica said as he met her watering eyes.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said as he pressed the gas pedal. “We’ve got about a third of a tank of gas in this thing. We need food. One place that has food and gas is a gas station,” he said in a simple tone.

He saw the thing that once was his neighbor Harold, as his flaming body was feeding on the child he tried to save. “Fucking asshole!” he broke into a scream as he aimed the grill of the minivan into the feeding frenzy. With a
thud
, he connected the front of the van into the bodies. Blood splattered the windshield. He turned on the wipers, and the blood smeared onto the rest of the windshield. The sun shone through the blood putting a red hue on the humans. He turned on the sprayers to clean the windshield. Erica sat silently as she watched the blood run down the front of the car.

They peeled fast back onto the busy street. Horns were honking as he weaved in and out of oncoming traffic. “Where’s the nearest gas station?” Erica finally broke the silence.

“Around the corner at the grocery store.”

“Don’t you think that would be a bad idea? Won’t there be more of those
things
?” she responded.

“Yeah, but it’s separate from the grocery store. It shouldn’t be that bad. When we get there, I want you to climb over here. Hand me a gun. Take two of the smaller ones.”

She began to rummage through their belongings for the .45 and the 9mm. “Now, you take one. Anyone or anything comes up to you that isn’t me, you shoot them. Preferably in the face. I’m going to pump gas and get supplies.”