The Reaper Virus Page 10

  “The sooner we go the better. It didn’t take long for more and more of those mother fuckers to show up at H.Q., and if it continues that way we won’t have a chance. I say we go in a couple hours,” Lance said confidently.

  “I agree,” Brad interjected. “We’re vulnerable the longer we’re here. The darkness can be a good cover. We go block by block towards the river. Things should clear up when we get farther from campus. After that it shouldn’t be as hard for us to go on separately.”

  “Alright, gentlemen, I’m sold. How’s 0300 sound?” It was hard to sound even remotely sure of myself. “That’ll give us a couple hours to rest. We can meet at the front door.”

  That was the end of conversation. Both Brad and Lance gave an acknowledging nod. Lance and I walked out and retreated to our temporary accommodations.

  * * *

  0130 hours:

  The alarm on my watch was set to give me twenty-five minutes to gather my things and prepare myself. Some stretching exercises would likely be beneficial. Who knew what kind of physical activity was in my future? I wasn’t worried about staying ahead of the dead in the short term, but I could easily get worn out staying ahead of them for a longer duration. Twenty minutes of exercise wouldn’t help me cover for years of being a lazy bum but it would help my reflexes. We were going to be traversing some tight spaces where I’d have to limber up. I figured I’d be alright but there was no point in fooling myself into thinking I’d be able to keep up with Lance and Brad. They were both in much better shape than I was.

  Sleep would have been smart, but who could sleep knowing what was coming? The only thing I wanted was to call home. Digging through my pack I found my cell phone. I turned it on and got the surprise of my life when it found a signal. My heart stopped beating as I dialed home.

  “We’re sorry, all circuits are busy…” I hung up before it got any further.

  Desperate, I decided to attempt a text message.

  “I’m on my way home. Keep the walkie on and wait for me to tell you I’m close before going to the windows. I love you all so much.”

  The phone displayed the SENDING window for several minutes. At one point it said the message sending was eighteen percent complete. My eyes hurt from tearful anticipation.

  MESSAGE FAILED… I could have collapsed with the sinking of my heart.

  There are very few times in my life that I can recall being that restless: standing in a tux next to my brother before walking down the aisle, sitting next to Sarah in the hospital, exhausted and back throbbing with pain as we waited for Maddox to be born, then again a couple of years later in almost the same room, we desperately tried to get Calise to slow down so the doctor could arrive in time.

  Thoughts bombarded any chance I had of getting a nap. I felt as if I was a soldier traversing rocky seas to storm the beaches of Normandy. I paced around the room until finally settling by the window to try and do some reconnaissance. Reading about the virus was all well and good, however, we were about to get up close and personal with the wretched thing. That being the case, I’d rather use my own observations to ensure my well-being.

  From my second floor vantage point I could only see what was directly in front of the building. Three cars were in view; one was parked on the far side of the street. Though it was hard to fully make out, it looked as if it had been pushed over the parking meter by another vehicle. My guess was the striking car hit the parked one pretty hard. In the bad light they almost looked fused into one awkward shape.

  Another car was sitting in the middle of the travel lane nearly out of my field of view. I could only see the front half – the rest was blocked by the window’s frame. From what I could tell, the car was just sitting there with the front doors open. It was impossible to tell if the vehicles were occupied. I had to strain just to make out the shapes of the cars themselves. Maybe it was best that the darkness was obscuring any colors. My imagination saw pools of crimson around the opened doors and spattered all over the twisted wrecks.

  Despite all the carnage I had already seen, I wanted a better view. Throwing the notion of curiosity killing the cat to the wind, I decided to venture downstairs. Creeping past Lance and Brad’s doors, I couldn’t discern any sound from within. Hopefully they were asleep. If so, they were much luckier than me.

  I felt like a teenager again trying to sneak out of my parents’ house at night. This time though I wasn’t worried about anyone hearing me inside the house. Fear has a way of magnifying all the senses. Every creaky floor board made my heart palpitate. Although it was doubtful that even the most alert zombie outside could hear it, paranoia still justified caution. Before the dead came back to life I saw paranoia as inner fear trying to manifest itself in other ways. Fear had now become more commonplace than tranquility, so I saw no need to ignore the teasings of paranoia. I lightened my step hoping to return stealth to my late night trip through the house.

  Snaking my way through the hall I headed to the front room facing the street. That room had a large bay window that would provide a great vantage point of the street. I could make out the silhouette of the drapes the moment I went in the room. I carefully approached what was easily the building’s most vulnerable point. Sitting next to the windows was an easy chair. I gently maneuvered myself to sit on the plush arm rest and peered through the inch wide gap between the drapes in the center window.

  The shadows played with my vision, like phantoms. My eyes adjusted to the slight difference between the interior and exterior of the building. At the very least I could see the area in front of the window much better than I could from the second floor. A well groomed hedge obscured most of the lower right hand window, which kept me from seeing any more of the car with its doors open. The difference between my view of the car accident from upstairs and down was negligible. There may have been a human form strung across the hood of the striking car, but it was hard to tell for sure. The good news was that nothing looked to be moving. I was about to return to my room and do some stretching when the window became filled with a horrid obstruction.

  I don’t know where the infected man came from. It was possible he had been lying down in the grass beneath the window or just off to the side of the building, but now the only thing that separated his rotting face with mine was an eighth of an inch of glass.

  I froze. My heart stopped and my lungs were paralyzed mid-breath. I felt like every living biological function in my body stopped. At that moment I felt as dead as the face outside the window. My first instinct was to reach for the Kukri secured at my side. My brain screamed for self-preservation. Nothing happened. I didn’t move and neither did it. Then it hit me – the infected didn’t know I was there. Fear kept me frozen. I was petrified by the idea that even blinking would alert the zombie to my presence on the other side of the window. My eyes were the only thing moving. I wanted to memorize every aspect of the ghoul. If I ever come that close to one of their faces again it would likely be the last thing I ever saw.

  Imagination filled in what darkness hid. There were some things about it that no imagination could create. Its skin was mottled and pale. Black veins trailed across the dead flesh like ivy on a brick wall. The rabid jaw opened and closed without rhythm; my mind saw putrid drool flowing from the vile opening.

  When you look into someone’s eyes you can see humanity in them. You see sorrow, happiness, love. Inside someone’s eyes should be a window into the innocence of a child, the tribulations of a teenager and the solidifying foundation of adulthood. Make eye contact with a human being and whatever looks back at you alludes to their soul. That is, if they have one. Looking into the blackness that once housed a person’s emotions and dreams, I saw nothing.

  Ever since we left Police Headquarters we had lived in darkness. That was nothing compared to what stared back at me. It looked like the pupils had become so dilated that they enveloped the whole eye. My mind told me that the eyes rapidly moved about. They searched for movement, for life, for me.

  Some
thing caught its attention and it darted off to the east. I threw myself back from the window and practically leapt to the door. However, before leaving the room I looked back at where I was sitting to see if the creature returned. A full outline of the drapes was visible again. Satisfied I moved towards the stairs with all the stealth I could muster. Just because the reaper wasn’t at the window, doesn’t mean it wasn’t nearby; or at least that’s what my fear told me.

  Chapter 10

  All Good Things Must Come to an End

  0220 hours:

  With every blink I could see its face… the black eyes searching for me; the feral mouth snapping at me, wanting my flesh. I fell over with a dry heave – adrenaline was catching up with me.

  I should have been stretching or doing something productive. Instead I was back in my room sitting motionless, entirely lost in my own thoughts. My mind suffered through a hailstorm of visions that attempted to distract me from the matter at hand. I saw the smiling faces of my kids, of my beloved wife. Then their faces would transform into the rotting visage of what I had just locked eyes with outside. It was the first time I worried that the horrors outside were clouding my focus on where I needed to be. Another sobering bout of nausea made me shake my head and clutch my gut. It passed and I focused on thinking about nothing at all.

  The forced trance became broken by the irritation on my left shin. Hard to believe I forgot about the skin I’d paved over with duct tape. I toyed with the idea of taking it off. Discomfort aside, I couldn’t risk losing the messages I recorded for everyone. That Micro SD card wouldn’t last long against the ravages of infection or injury. I’d deal with removing it and the scars that followed if I lived to see home again. Then I had a disturbing thought about the nature of those infected with the R33PR virus. I decided to leave my solitude and find the guys to talk things over.

  Brad was completely passed out. I opted not to bother him and moved to Lance’s room. He was awake and ushered me in when I cracked the door. I sat down in the chair across from him and took a deep breath, recounting the events that just occurred downstairs.

  “The virus obviously rewires human physiology in some way,” I said to Lance. “We know this because suddenly you’re dead and moving.”

  “And crazy as fuck… and hungry,” Lance interjected.

  “Shut up and let me finish.” He smirked and I continued. “What if the virus spreads itself by turning the infected into, like, a predator or something along those lines? Pupils dilate to see better when it’s dark. That could mean that the virus rewires people to be nocturnal hunters.”

  He looked intrigued and burdened. “Now that I think about it, the ones I saw before at H.Q. did move a little faster when it was dark.” After a pause he hesitantly said, “So you think it’s a bad idea for us to go when it’s still dark.”

  “Pretty much,” I said through a sigh. “At least in the daylight we would be able to see where we’re going.”

  “True enough. There are a lot of blind corners.” He picked up his black forged stainless steel firearm from the table and holstered it with a distinct click sound. “I’ll go talk to Brad. You go back to the window and see if you can see anything useful.”

  * * *

  0726 hours:

  I spent the time leading up to sunrise gazing out the window with periodic stretching breaks. As ridiculous as it may have been, I also practiced some fighting moves with the Kukri. Regardless of how absurd the practice felt, inside it prepared me for the idea of plunging the curved blade into another’s skull.

  Any attempts to catnap were fruitless. I’d like to think it didn’t bother me; I’d given up sleep six years ago when I moved to the midnight shift. I chuckled at myself. The notion that I abandoned any hope for rest so long ago was as ridiculous as it was true. I chuckled again thinking that I had turned into a zombie before the virus even existed. It was good to know laughter was still possible, even if it was at my own expense.

  While perched at the window I only saw two infected pass near the building. Maybe it was because I had a better knowledge of them now, but I could swear they moved faster than the zombies I saw during the daylight. This reaffirmed our decision to move at first light. In all actuality, I have little basis for comparison. Any daytime sightings I’d had were through a crack in the window or from a crappy security camera.

  Twilight was skewed from all the new pollution in the air. Sunrise should have been a little before seven o’clock. We decided to meet and prepare ourselves near the front door at about quarter till. All three of us were eager and anxious to meet our fate, whatever it may be. Three days before, we became trapped in this godforsaken city under siege of the undead. It wasn’t unreasonable that we would desire any fate other than prolonged confinement away from our families.

  Now there we were, ready and willing to plunge into an undead world. We’d been camped by the barricaded front door for over half an hour. Brad and Lance were at the doorway of the room with the bay windows. I was sitting at the window where I came face to face with the infected earlier, watching the street to determine the right time to leave.

  The grim world became slightly more visible by the minute. I could see the car wreck much more clearly than the evening before. There was a body on the hood of the striking vehicle. It didn’t move at all the entire time I watched it. More than likely it was actually dead. I hoped it was dead-dead, but to stay on the safe side, my instincts told me to keep the corpse in mind anyways. Call it survival instincts if you want, perhaps some of the training did sink in, either way, I was not going to take any chances.

  Everything was dull and drab in color. There was no vibrancy, nothing spectacular distinguishing itself from the hints of pestilence all around. It reminded me of watching some indie film with a percentage of the color removed. I thought there were pools of blood near the car with open doors, but it was still hard to tell.

  Something told me we’d be able to see everything far too well once we were out there.

  I inhaled deeply, held the breath for a moment, then exhaled, trying to convince myself that I was ready to take the leap into the unknown. I turned to my comrades and saw that they were just as nervous. Obviously I couldn’t blame them, but the time was approaching for us to leave this place.

  “Hey guys…” I whispered loudly as I turned from the window, “it’s time.” They both acknowledged with a nod, saying nothing. Their response was to head to the door and start moving the barricaded furniture. I collected my bag and went to assist.

  Moments later Lance had his hand on the doorknob, gun drawn. Brad was close behind him with the mini crowbar at the ready position. I pulled up the rear with my Kukri in a tight fist at my side.

  The door cracked and both Lance and Brad recoiled in near blindness. It didn’t seem quite as bad to me since I had spent the last half hour looking out the window. Gun or not, I should have gone first. Fortunately there wasn’t a set of undead jaws awaiting us. After a moment of adjustment, we crept out of our safe haven, pausing to listen. A distant cacophony of bangs, car horns, and shrieks could be heard in seemingly all directions.

  A spherical hedge sat on either side of the front door. This gave Lance enough cover to peek around and check the area. After studying both east and west very carefully, he motioned for us to follow with a directional head nod. Once I cleared the hedges and carefully traversed the handful of steep steps I got a look at the street.

  There wasn’t anything moving nearby. A blend of either fog or smoke put a veil over everything eastward. Looking west I could see more cars, more debris and more death. Lance motioned to the car accident. It sat in front of the Scott House, an old plantation style home used for formal activities by the university. The two fused cars blocked a cobblestone driveway that led to an overhang area attached to the house, then beyond to a small servants’ shack at the far southwest corner of the property. A seven-foot stone wall surrounded the old Confederate style grounds. Though it was never said out loud, in the nam
e of stealth, I knew our course would take us through the property and over the wall.

  I hadn’t realized that the building had been blocking the background sounds from behind us. When we reached the sidewalk I immediately became aware of the persistent banging still echoing from Police Headquarters, which was situated to the north of us. My first thought was selfish yet strategic: “Thank God they are all still gathered around H.Q.” I tried to find some reassurance in this. Maybe all of the zombies in the area would be around the building rather than waiting for us to stumble upon them while fleeing in the opposite direction. At the same time it meant that everyone was still trapped and help had not come. I pushed it all back in my mind and focused on the mammoth task before us. Our three man convoy moved with a silent proficiency across the street and around the driver side bumper of the striking car. It was difficult not to step on glass or debris. Every movement of my foot brought about a gut-wrenching crunch sound. Within seconds the true horror of the car accident became apparent.

  A lifeless, mangled body lay from the windshield wipers to convergence with the other car. Its shape was remotely human, but that was all that could be said about the poor soul. With a foreboding glance I saw that little remained of the head. I was confident this person would stay dead.

  Whatever color this car once was, it was now just a mix of dirt, dust, and blood. The windows were broken. Inside the vehicle was a peppering of blood and obvious tissue. At the point of impact was a visible soup of humanity that had little resemblance to its origins. There was so much of it there that I doubt it could all belong to the corpse on the hood. The twisted arm of the driver blocked a full passing look of the horror. I’m sure if I could have stomached looking closely enough, I would have seen the undead fingers protruding from the gore beyond the arm. Maybe then I would have spotted the fingers rooted to the hand of a tethered ghoul; concealed and twitching about the viscera.