The Reaper Virus Page 13

“About damn time!” Lance said with a snicker. “We can hide over here until they forget about us.”

  I pulled my weapon from the dirt and quickly followed him. There were two red brick buildings before us. The larger of them was a support facility which contained small locker rooms, bathrooms, and a vending area. An equipment storage building, less than half the size of the support building, was just beyond it.

  We hustled past the covered vending area and to the first locker room door. Lance immediately held out his hand and motioned for me to stop. The astro-turf colored door labeled “LOCKER ROOM #1 – AUTHORIZED PESONNELL ONLY” was cracked open. From what I could see through the opening, the inside looked to be bathed in blackness.

  Lance took pulled his flashlight from his service belt and mouthed, “Wait here.” The ASP, still in its open position, was raised to a striking height. He stealthily entered the room and disappeared from view.

  I pushed my back to the wall in an attempt to keep a lower profile. The ravenous crowd at the fence had not forgotten about us. There were a couple of dozen, easily. It didn’t look like any more were joining from the area of the courtyard. With the exception of a straggler here and there, all in the area seemed to have gathered at the fence.

  A few finger snaps and a loud “pssst” brought my attention back to the door. Lance waved me inside and hastily closed the door. I rushed in, threw off my pack, and practically dove to a padded chair next to a wall of lockers.

  The only lighting came from the few vents along the ceiling line by the door. For the first time on that godforsaken day, I felt safe enough to let my guard down. Lance put his bag down and jabbed the baton at the floor to close it. I watched him move back to the door, examining ways to secure it.

  All morning my body was caught in a flood of adrenaline. I was pushed to physical extremes and total panic. I watched a friend kill and another die. I… killed.

  The weight of everything collapsed upon me. I vomited the few stomach contents I had into a little office trashcan next to the chair. My brain and body shut down. Sleep completely overcame me.

  Chapter 13

  Why so serious?

  1120 hours:

  My eyes fought the notion of opening. They cracked apart and revealed a dark room made even darker by hazy vision. My mind was completely blank. I felt like a coma patient waking from pseudo-time travel. Details in my memory started popping back into my thoughts from where they had become irrevocably etched. There was a figure standing nearby. I was too groggy to determine if it was friend or foe. Frankly, I was too exhausted to act if it was the latter.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Lance snickered. “It’s about fucking time. I thought I was going to have to leave you.”

  I grumbled a response that could hardly be considered English. My head was nestled in a corner made by the sheet aluminum lockers and the cold brick wall. Under normal circumstances I would have been in extreme pain from the sleeping arrangements. Right now, it felt almost as good as being home on my memory foam mattress.

  After another moment of enjoyed mental fuzziness, my physical state brought me back down to this wretched Earth. Every fiber of my being screamed self-loathing. There wasn’t a single part of me that didn’t hurt.

  “Here,” the shadowy figure in the room said, coming more into focus as he stepped closer. Lance handed me a small bottle. “I found it in one of the lockers.”

  Every joint in my hands hurt. They echoed from the absorbed impacts of lives I retook earlier that morning. I fumbled with the childproof bottle and removed three of the liquid gel tabs. If my mouth wasn’t so dry and filled with a horrible taste I probably would have swallowed them immediately.

  After tucking the medicine in the front pocket of my uniform jacket, I bent over the side of the chair and tore through my backpack. I quickly found two power bars and a small bottle of water. Seconds later, I had inhaled everything quicker than oxygen. Taking a few ibuprofen on an empty stomach would have been unwise.

  “How long was I out?” I rasped, still overcoming my dehydration. The room had become slightly brighter from the late morning sun shining through the wall vents.

  “A little over two hours,” Lance replied. He had set up a resting area in the corner a few feet away. Another chair had been moved beneath one of the wall vents; I assume so he could look out. The door was closed and blocked by a towel bin turned wheels up.

  “You shouldn’t have let me sleep so long… we need to move while it’s still light outside.” My voice was returning. I hope he recognized my irritation as situational.

  “I tried to wake you after forty-five minutes! You were out cold. I checked to make sure you hadn’t been bitten. Besides, I know you didn’t sleep last night and you’re going to need every minute.”

  “I’m sorry, man. Obviously, I wasn’t made for battle. If I were born in ancient Rome, they probably would have left me on the hill at birth.” Lance muffled his laugh. “What’s the situation outside?”

  The casualness of our conversation halted there. His tone got serious. “The fence was pretty crowded until about half an hour ago. A lot of them wandered east, towards the dorms. I can’t see much by the parking garage to the west, but I don’t think many walked that way. There are a couple milling around where we hopped the fence. From here, it looks like the fence itself is fine. We could easily stay here for a while if you want.”

  “I can’t stay.” The look on his face told me that my response was predicted. “I told Sarah to leave the house after a few days and head to my parents’ farm. Although I know she’ll wait longer than she should, the kids’ safety will make her leave eventually.”

  Lance gave a thoughtful nod of approval at my answer. “Yeah, I knew you’d say that. I probably would have smacked you if you said anything else.” I cracked a smile and he continued. “That being the case, once we clear the fence on the other side of the field you’ll be on your own.”

  I felt like I’d lose my delectable power bar meal. “What the fuck are you talking about? I thought we would clear the river at least before going separate ways.”

  “Yeah… I’ve been thinking about it all day. I’m pretty sure my wife would have gone to a friend of ours that lives closer to her office.” It took every ounce of strength to act like I was still in control while listening to him. “Our apartment wouldn’t be the easiest place to secure from… well from zombies. Our friend’s house is in a new neighborhood. He is one of the only people who have even moved onto the street. If it were me, that’s where I would go and she’s a hell of a lot like me.” Lance’s expression was solid. His decision was made.

  “Where is it?” My defeated tone was obvious.

  “Far west end. Almost to Goochland. It’s a good ways away, but I should be able to stick to neighborhood streets for most of it.” As he spoke I was envious of his confidence.

  We sat in silence for a while after that. The sounds outside lightly filtered into our shelter: a moan, the sound of the metal chain link fence shaking, distant car alarms and gunshots echoing at irregular intervals. All were reminders that our current safety was a futile illusion.

  * * *

  1134 hours:

  The painkillers started taking the edge off my full-body ache. I began moving around the tiny locker room a bit to prevent my muscles from going into rigor. After a few slow, stretching laps of the short row of benches the feeling of normalcy again seemed possible.

  Two feet from my chair lay the Kukri. The scabbard was still tightly attached to my right side. Muck was so thickly caked on the blade that little silver could be seen. It was a good thing I didn’t re-sheath it. Had I done so, I doubt the weapon would ever come out clean again.

  Thank God there was a sink in the room. I grabbed a towel from the corner and used it to scrub the blade under the cold running water. Once it regained its sheen I was satisfied and returned it to its home. Without a second thought about water quality, I thoroughly washed my face and hair. Although, I stopped short
from drinking it, I did fill my empty water bottles. Even if I never get the chance to boil the water, I’ll probably need to clean off the Kukri again. Now I just have to mark them somehow so I don’t accidentally drink the wrong water. Watch me get infected from a dirty drink instead of a bite… I knew the city water was bad.

  Lance was repacking his bag. “You about ready to head out? I was thinking we would tiptoe over to the equipment storage shed to see if there’s anything useful.”

  “Good idea.” I nodded with the reply. “If there aren’t too many of them watching us from the fence, we should also try to hit the vending machines on the other side.”

  “Sounds good to me, man. Do what you gotta do… we leave in ten. Ideally we should be clearing the fence by noon. That will give us both a good five and a half hours before sunset.” His face went from business to concern. “I doubt either of us will be able to get home in that time. Hopefully it’s enough to get to somewhere that’s safe for the night.”

  * * *

  1145 hours:

  We cleared the door of our feeble blockade. Lance peered out. After a tense minute he inched out and gestured for me to follow.

  The day was much brighter now. At first glance one might confuse it as a normal November morning… that was, if it wasn’t for the dead walking about sporting various “mortal” injuries. There were six or seven of them in sight, scattered across the fence line from which we came. Three bodies lay where we crossed over. I felt alarmingly little at the realization that two of those corpses stayed dead because of me.

  Thankfully the fence was high and sturdy, a handy tidbit considering how quickly we were noticed. The small group at the far side of the fence became slightly more excited upon seeing us. Realizing that there was little point in trying to act stealthy, I got Lance’s attention.

  “We have their attention already. I think every one of them over there has seen us,” I said while pointing to the fence line.

  “I don’t give a flying fuck if they do see us,” he said without even cracking a smile. There was a serious tone behind his colorful terminology. “As long as they stay on that side, I don’t care. If they start to move around the fence then we’re going to have to move real quick to head them off.”

  He had a point. The notion of going on alone hit me again. I replaced the fear in my gut with hunger. “Hey, we should hit the vending machines. I doubt we’ll come across many that haven’t been looted after this.”

  “Good idea. I’m glad you can still think with your stomach even during the end of the world.” He snickered. I must have looked hurt. “Sorry. I’m just fucking with you.”

  I showed my appreciation by extending my middle finger. We walked a few feet closer to the crowd of undead and into the covered vending area. I pulled the crowbar from my bag and went to work while my cohort stood guard.

  Breaking and entering had never been my forte. I struggled with prying open the largely glass snack machine. This continued until Lance tapped me on the shoulder. He pointed to the side of the fence that was closer to us. Beyond this point, to the west, was the parking deck that marked the southwestern corner of the academic campus. Then I saw what he was directing my attention to.

  It was the zombie with the newly sliced open jaw from before. The sight made me vomit a bit inside my mouth. His jaw hung wide open like a massive yawn. Sinew and flesh ran between the ends of the wound I inflicted. These little bits kept the jaw from falling off completely. Its tongue still wagged around in a grotesquely obscene way. The infected man had wandered to the side of the fence. Fortunately he looked to be the only one to figure out that there might be another way to get closer to us.

  “Why so serious?” Lance joked while watching the color drain from my face.

  I quickly realized he was referring to the likeness the beast had with the Joker from Batman. If I wasn’t so sickened I would have laughed, since he was right. “You’re such a fucking asshole.” I grumbled instead.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t resist. You’re taking too long – gimme that.” He grabbed the crowbar and went to the snack machine. Lacking all subtlety he jabbed the glass with the pointed end of the tool. The sound of it shattering echoed off the recessed field. If the infected around the fence hadn’t seen us already, they did now.

  Lance moved over to the drink machine. I saw this as my cue to start pulling snacks from the newly exposed dispenser. While rummaging through the front pocket of my pack I found a plastic grocery bag. The plan was to fill it and divvy up the goods between us later. There were two rows of Nutri-Grain brand cereal bars that quickly made it to the bag. I grabbed a couple of candy bars and some Chex Mix to top off the loot.

  By the time I was satisfied with my haul Lance had opened the drink machine. I don’t think I had ever been so excited by the sight of Gatorade. We each grabbed a bottle and guzzled it. Evidently I’m not the only one who was feeling the effects of dehydration.

  The sudden surge of sugar and electrolytes gave me a new clarity for our current situation. My feeling of relief ceased the moment I recognized that the gurgling I heard wasn’t coming from my stomach. My friend the “Joker” had worked his way in between two lines of hedges at the western fence. From the look of it he had gotten caught on something that was keeping him from reaching the fence. The sounds emanating from the beast were utterly repulsive, a chorus of gurgles and slurps. The loosely hanging jaw jostled around as it tried to snap shut. I was ready to throw up before seeing it begin to vomit a black mess from his horrid mouth.

  I averted my glance as Lance snapped his fingers to get my attention. “Get with it, Nathan.” Every word he said was spoken as seriously as life or death. “Yeah, that thing is fucking nasty, but I doubt it’ll be the nastiest thing you see before making it home.”

  “But I made it that way. I sliced its mouth open. Now the only thing I regret more than that is not killing him.”

  I felt like I was unraveling.

  Lance pointed at my face, his expression blank. “Shut your mouth and get the fuck with it. You didn’t kill him. He was already dead. You’re not the one who made him sick. If you were walking around without a pulse and he was trying to get home to his family, I promise he’d have done the same thing. Now, get over it, because you’re about to be on your own. Don’t make me feel like shit for the rest of my life because I left you alone while beating yourself up over messing up a zombie’s smile.”

  I laughed. Really, laughing was all there was left to do. He was right after all. The world had become a place where making a walking dead man become all smiles wasn’t a dastardly crime, but borderline comical.

  “Okay, okay I get it. You’re right. Just stop fucking pointing at me. You’re not even a parent, how do you have practice doing the judgmental parenting finger point?”

  “Parents deal with kids that are too young to be smart. Cops deal with people that are too stupid to be smart,” he joked. “Enough bullshitting – we need to move.”

  After grabbing the few drinks we’d be able to travel with we moved back past the locker room doors and toward the equipment storage. The doors for this tiny building faced south, away from the crowd pacing around by the fence. Cover from the small building and the hedges behind us provided some much needed concealment.

  Lance got to work on the door with the crowbar. I used the few minutes of the down time to separate the newly looted snacks. If I hadn’t been forced to leave some of my things behind at police headquarters, I wouldn’t have any room left in my bag. The front pocket and middle portion of my green backpack were fully stuffed; everything else was left in the plastic grocery bag for Lance to take.

  It only took Lance a few minutes to move in and out of the equipment building once the door was pried open. He emerged with a shovel in one hand and two butterfly coils of rope in the other.

  “Not much in there that we can use. There is a thing of rope for each of us. Mind if I take the shovel?”

  I shrugged and caught the coil of rope h
e tossed at me. “I don’t see why not. At least it would give you more reach than the ASP.” I handed him the plastic bag of snacks. We both sat for a moment fiddling with our packs, trying to contain everything before going back out in the undead world.

  By the time I was satisfied with my equipment, Lance was already peeking around the corner of the equipment shed. My pack was filled beyond capacity. The coil of rope was looped around the left strap and hung parallel to the bag against my back. I hoped and prayed the zippers would hold. High school memories of the bag coming open from being overstuffed with books came to mind.

  Both of my weapons were clean and stowed. The Kukri would remain in its scabbard until we crossed over the fence while only the curved end of the crowbar protruded from the bag’s dual zipper. The joints in my hand ached at the realization that on the other side of that fence, either weapon would probably be held in a tight grip for the rest of the foreseeable future.

  Lance pointed to a spot on the south fence a good halfway down the field, which looked to be the home of a stack of equipment I couldn’t identify. There weren’t any reapers visible on this side and we could easily pass back over the fence using the stack of crap as a step.

  Within seconds Lance was handing me his shovel and scaling the fence. He landed on the other side, scoped the area for a minute and then waved me on. I stepped up on the pile of miscellaneous pads and passed the shovel over. Even though this was less of a climb than before it now felt like a greater obstacle. It’s amazing how fighting for your life can turn you into an athlete.

  I eased myself over the other side and winced at the clanking of the chain links. All our infected fans were still grouped at the northern end of the fence. They moaned and clambered about like we were still directly on the other side of the fence. The pathetic sight provided me with the absurdly sarcastic thought that they were all so hungry to compensate for being retarded.