The Reaper Virus Page 25

  Under normal circumstances I may have taken time to observe the neighborhood and all its details, but instead my eyes were locked ahead. I could see the road’s right angle a couple of houses up. The axis of the bend was formed by a grass embankment topped off with a traffic clogged street. The road angled down from the slope of a bridge. Cars covered the incline, but I couldn’t see any movement.

  That had to be Hull Street. All this time I’d assumed I would feel elation at the sight of my target street. But I was troubled knowing it wouldn’t be as simple as turning onto Hull. Hopefully the bend would lead to a better entrance to my path home.

  I scoured the traffic jam for threats. There was definitely something in the area making noise, but I couldn’t see it. Behind me though, I heard a bang. I swung around and saw an old woman emerging from a faded red car port. She had puffy gray hair that was matted at the front from blood. Her jaw hung open unnaturally wide. Inside the vile grin was a swollen black tongue lapping up and down like an excited geriatric dog. The woman saw me and flailed her droopy arms. When her right arm dropped it banged against the hood of the golden Buick that was mostly covered by the awning.

  My heart stopped. I knew what was coming. The Buick’s lights flashed and its horn blared. “You bitch!” I yelled back at the old zombie. She had moved past the car and was snared on the mini white picket fence bordering her driveway. Her soiled green nightgown caught a fence post. She flailed towards me like the rabid animal she’d become. For a minute there I thought the gown was tearing off. I know the only thing worse than a zombie grandma is a naked zombie grandma. The ruckus behind me didn’t matter anyway; I had a much larger problem brewing ahead.

  Dead were already flooding in from the bridge. I saw them pushing past the cars coming from the incline. To make matters worse, they certainly saw me too. The car alarm and indecent grandma pulled the hungry attention of every infected beast my way. My only chance would be to pedal like hell towards the horde. The leaders of the pack tumbled down the embankment. Loss of balance prevented them from immediately regaining their footing. The far corner had a concrete stairwell for pedestrians to reach the road.

  A bony looking woman in a fur coat and nothing else hit the drop of the stairs full speed. Her forehead clipped the metal railing and flipped her around to the steps. When I pulled my momentary focus away from the fur coat zombie her neck was snapped so far to the side that vertebrae protruded. The fur coat bunched around her shoulders as the rest of her bare, mangled body twitched violently like fresh road kill.

  I couldn’t afford to dwell on individual horrors. My legs pumped with adrenaline and burned with lactic acid. I shifted my weight to the right and adjusted the handlebars and took the turn at full speed, expecting to be tossed off and offered to the reapers that were somersaulting down the hill. Fortune favored the desperate though, and I forced out my held breath and pushed on.

  The paralleling turn kept going. I wanted nothing more than to turn onto Hull Street and just keep going, but it wasn’t an option. The embankment reduced enough that I could have skipped over to the road but a number of cars in the traffic jam prevented it. My only hope was to find a better inlet after the road leveled. There were a few infected on the side street, but no cars. I would just have to speed up as much as possible and dodge them long enough to put some distance from the group.

  Over my shoulder I spotted many of the new horde that had gotten to their feet. They’d joined others that stayed on Hull Street, but pursued me nonetheless. Stopping to count would mean offering myself so I could only estimate that at least fifty were trotting after this new meal on wheels that I’d become. Panic pushed me on faster. I swerved around one in front of me that lunged. He missed and fell to the ground. Another mimicked his undead brother’s motion, but remained standing, albeit in a wobble. I flew past a couple of others and came up on a line of small trees in the median between the streets. There had to be a way onto Hull Street soon that wouldn’t cause me to wreck.

  The incline had decreased and the side street was almost level with the car-filled neighbor. I looked past the tractor-trailer-length swath of trees and saw my path. After the trees there was a red brick column then a handful of metal posts joined by a single knee high chain. Where the chain ended there was an area worn to dirt from people passing over it. It was smooth and the bike wouldn’t crash going over it. I knew it was my ticket to a straight line home. Riding through it would be easy if it wasn’t for the infected woman standing in my way.

  Action had to take place over caution and I knew it. I went at her full steam. Letting up on the pedals for a second to keep balance I released my right hand from its white-knuckle grip. I stretched back and let the silicone dots on my glove find the handle of the Kukri. Holding it tightly, I returned my arm to the handlebars pushing down from my wrist for stability. The woman wore a gray pea coat that buttoned down to her thighs. It was odd how clean the coat looked compared to the mangled thing that should be her face.

  By the time she knew living flesh was hurtling towards her she didn’t have time to act. I held onto the handlebars with my left hand so tight it felt like the metal would bend under my fingers, raised the Kukri, and swung out to the front. It caught her at ear level. Force from the impact practically threw me from the bike. The recoil I experienced was nothing compared to the zombie though. My blade entered by her left ear and decimated every cell in its wake. Her head jerked towards the road and collapsed in on itself thanks to a jaw that no longer supported the skull. In mentally induced slow motion I could see every detail of her cheek shattering like clay. Dirty steel sliced through taking flesh, bone and teeth with it. Little more than skin and muscle separated my attack from a full on decapitation.

  The creature fell in the direction of my swing like a foul ball. I wheeled past equally affected by the physics associated with the attack. Instead of rejoicing from finally being on Hull Street, I fought to keep from flying off the bike. I nearly collided with a black Lincoln Navigator at a slight angle and sideswiped it, scraping along until the side view mirror hit me in the chest. It hyper extended out and rained broken glass on the pavement. Of course, the car alarm went off the moment I hit.

  My vision flashed white from the surge of pain and sharp pangs radiated from within my chest. Before the impact there wasn’t much breath inside my lungs anyway, but then everything was forced out. The polished sport utility vehicle screeched its theft deterring siren. The wailing was acknowledged in my mind, but not fully heard thanks to the partial deafness I’d suffered. Even if I did have full hearing my pounding pulse already blocked every decibel. I couldn’t move or breathe. Everything around me was glowing white. My body screamed as I forced a look behind me. The dead were closing in - so many thrashed towards me that I couldn’t count. Their eager masses flourished to over a hundred strong. If I didn’t move now I’d be on the receiving end of a hurricane of death.

  I returned my ass to the bike seat, numbness pulsing through every inch of me. I only knew I’d succeeded in sitting because I didn’t fall down. While my left arm braced against the wailing car I hoisted my right boot to the pedal. A few of the zombies past the point I’d entered the road rushed in head-on. In my peripheral vision I saw the shapes coming, arms out and eager fingers dancing. Death was cascading around me like a halo.

  A force, one I can only describe as being outside of myself, moved my other boot in place. I was still using the Navigator to hold me up when the first of them reached. He was a teenager in a windbreaker, shorts and no shoes. As he lunged towards me I extended a fist. I hit him with strength I somehow possessed and under my balled knuckles I felt the zombie’s nose driven into his sinus cavity. I’d already traveled several feet by the time he hit the ground. Full body numbness triggered some kind of auto pilot in me. The only thoughts running through my brain were to pedal and pedal fast. I’d swerve every other minute to avoid an attacker then go right back to pedaling. My surroundings didn’t matter so long as I kept going.
I really had no idea who or what I passed. All I knew was that the congregation behind me grew more and more distant.

  The fierce pain that came from my hitting the car gradually faded into the generalized agony I’d already been feeling. I pushed it back inside where it waited to overcome me like a sleeping giant. Now all there was to do was ride the bike home. The two-wheeled chariot was delivering me where I needed to be. If I could maintain a decent pace I should be home in an hour and a half.

  Chapter 25

  Helpful Hints

  1520 hours:

  The world had ended a couple of days before. When reality shattered and the dead rose, it was difficult to establish true timeframes. I’d been awake fleeing for most of the time after hell and Earth joined. The unavoidable dread of the future was that there was none to speak of. Hope was all that distinguished past, present, and future. The latter two temporal generalizations lacked this luxury enjoyed only by the past.

  I drifted in and out of my thoughts. One moment I was lost in contemplation. The next I would be longing to be lost again, so that I didn’t have to think about what was happening to my body. Pain and exhaustion were shared states of being. My legs couldn’t decide whether or not they hurt or were near muscle failure. All I could do was pedal.

  My determination in getting home went beyond hope. I know it was something that I must do. What I had to stop myself from dwelling on was thinking about after I got there. Existing up until that moment had been only to see the ones I love, but if I made it that far, what would I do then? My selfish drive had made me forget that after I got home I’d need to keep my family safe. I’d spent two days traveling a distance that normally took me twenty-five minutes. If things had gone to hell that much, then how was I going to get four people to a safe place across the damn state? Maybe the dead were the lucky ones after all… at least they didn’t have to worry about what was next.

  Shapes of cars and people passed. I kept my eyes on the immediate road ahead. Looking around could have some strategic use. It might allow me to spot a place to rest or a source of supplies. Hell, if I were to pay attention I might even spot someone who was still human that could help me. All this aside, I kept my vision fixed to the front, because I knew that home was up the street and nothing would stop me from getting there. The zombies began to look the same after a while as was passing by creatures that in life were young and old. Some of them looked perfectly normal, but revealed their plight by choosing the company of other reapers. Every now and then one would stick out in my peripheral vision.

  I came close to becoming fixated on this one woman by the pricing marquee for a gas station. The digital sign was dark with “NO GAS- DON’T BOTHER” spray painted in white across it. Underneath, the infected woman was knelt down gnawing on something. To her side was an undead child. I knew that sight wouldn’t benefit me at all and quickly shot my glance back to the front.

  I wanted to stop so badly, but there wasn’t a block of road around there that wasn’t by something dangerous. If I stopped then I’d have company in seconds. All those gas stations, repair shops, markets, and shoddy looking stores made the landscape quite different from the railroad tracks. Some places showed obvious signs of looting. Other locations shined brightly to all looking for supplies. I should have stopped and looked for anything to help me, but I knew that any delay could keep me out past sunset. There were a few hours left of daylight and I’d like to be home long before they expired. Frankly, if I stopped I wasn’t completely sure I’d be able to start again.

  Sound was my best indicator for what was around me. My hearing was still considerably dampened from the effects of being near the rail crossing explosion, but gunshots in the area would cut through the muted chorus belonging to the locals. Some things were noisy enough that even the deaf might hear. The racket that came from a hundred fists pounding upon the storefront of a Food Lion was unimaginable. If the dead were that motivated in getting inside a place it had to mean that there were living on the other side of those walls. When I passed, a few members of the horde inevitably noticed me. They would turn from their writhing brethren to chase me. Any pursuit was futile since I’d be a block away before they made it twenty feet and the clatter of their friends always turned them back around.

  It was discouraging to see so many zombies gathered around people. I’ll never know how many people were in these places. I pray whatever heavenly power above us wouldn’t forsake them completely. However, thoughts like these made me think of the people I left behind. Given my recent actions, it would be fitting if the hopeful prisoners in Police Headquarters made it through but I didn’t.

  Finally, ahead I saw the familiar overpass for Chippenham Parkway. On my normal commute home I came off of Chippenham onto Hull Street. At least the remainder of my journey would be in familiar territory once again. There was a shopping center right before the Parkway, which concerned me. It had a few larger stores that could mean more infected.

  I dodged a car sitting askew in the middle of the lane. It was kind of junky and had one of those suspension lowering kits installed. The passenger side door was open and the driver side window had been rolled down. Passing around front I saw twitching legs protruding from the undercarriage. A red streak outlined where the right foot had been scraping repetitively. Friction cleaved the creature’s heel through the shoe down to bone. It spent its entire trapped existence just vainly rubbing its foot up and down. The humane thing to do would have been to stop and put a bullet through its head, but I didn’t have time to do humane things anymore…

  Already I could see a gathering of undead around the hardware store in the shopping center. I picked up the speed and zoomed towards the darkness of the overpass. The hardware store was probably like zombie-killing-toy central. If I had that thought then other people likely did as well. It would explain why so many infected were around the double glass doors leading into the tool store.

  I sped through the other side of the overpass. Familiar ground surrounded me again and I remembered that this familiar ground also had lots of changes in elevation. Biking up hills sounded absolutely horrifying. At least I had down hills to look forward to as well. If there was anything fortunate about the circumstances behind the apocalypse, it would be the timing. Doing all these things in the November air was what made them manageable. If the apocalypse had happened in the summer I’d have already died from dehydration.

  I passed more shopping centers. I saw those places every night before the end. My nightly drive to avoid the tolls of Powhite Parkway brought me through there. I paid them little mind then. Before, I just wanted to make it through the lights and get to work. I’d try not to think about crimes I knew occurred in the area. Every night, my paranoia attempted to delay my making it to Chippenham. Fortunately, the traffic light cycles were predictable. If I left the house in a certain window I had a better chance of not hitting every damn red light and not giving those paranoid fears a chance to surface. Life was routine and insignificant back then, but that was when I had no idea how lucky I actually was.

  An Asian zombie was waiting for me next to an abandoned minivan. Half his face was covered in circular bite wounds, one eye was missing, and his rib cage peeked from behind a torn pair of medical scrubs. The half of his outfit not stained in crimson had teddy bears printed all over it. He lunged seconds after I passed. The attack missed by inches, but skimmed my back wheel. The scrub reaper’s putrid chest knocked the bike tread and then tumbled to the street. I fought to stabilize the handlebars after his impact rocked the frame and even before I was sure I’d succeeded in stabilizing I was frantically pedaling away.

  Scrub Zombie’s failed attack made me extra paranoid. Both sides of the street were in competition for who could have the least inviting looking shopping center. I ignored them in the same way I’d done before the end. I felt like I was back in my car at a red light. That naïve sense of “if you don’t look at the sketchy car or building then you’ll be just fine” always hit me
at those moments. Riding past the festering retail centers I embraced that former exercise and averted my eyes. I knew there were hungry creatures watching me. Scrutinizing every inch of those places wouldn’t change the inaccessibility that the undead could bring to even the most appealing of supply centers.

  A little ways up the street and the buildings thinned out a bit. I coasted on a moderate downhill past a YMCA and an elementary school. Both of those places would be suitable for hiding out so I expected there to be more zombies. Much to my surprise the large structures had few trespassers roaming their grounds, which was good to see.

  At least they couldn’t be everywhere at once. The thinning of attackers seemed like a good enough excuse for grabbing a drink. I reached back to my secured pack and after a moment of rifling I found a bottle of water. I kept every sip in my mouth as long as possible. Each one felt so wonderfully refreshing I didn’t want to swallow. The road was much quieter than previous stretches, so I welcomed the breaks from noise, thirst and of course, infected obstacles. I had consumed half of the bottle before I knew it was time to save the rest. But one last sip couldn’t hurt. I tipped my head back for a final indulgence.

  A loud knock rang out from my left. It startled me enough to send the water down the wrong pipe and the bottle out of my grip. “Sh..i.t!” I cursed through choking words. The bottle and its precious clean water tumbled to the pavement. It bounced inward and was crushed beneath the Cannondale’s rear tire. I didn’t have time to mourn the loss, because I heard three more loud knocks.