The Reaper Virus Read online

  The shots were deafening. Two in rapid succession fired point blank in that concrete coffin. Shot number one took off the top right side of its head. The corpse dropped in its place, a quick airborne trail of darkly crimson muck and a spackle to the dirty gray wall remained. A second shot, fired in the considerable panic, cratered a stair near the next upward bend. In that eternal second I looked at the infected man, realizing its clothing looked like that of the previously motionless body draped over the stairs. A second was all the time allotted to me, before I met the infected man’s friend.

  Outside, a car struck the large streetlight standing in front of the club adjacent to the deck’s vehicle entrance. The flash from its sodium-vapor bulb exploding lit the stairwell like a lightning strike. My vision became filled with two black eyes, a gaping mouth, and a roadmap of dark veins launching towards my awestruck frame. A cold, vice grip hand attached to my left shoulder, pulling me towards a feral snapping mouth. Instinct took over. I’d like to think it had some help from long forgotten Defensive Tactics training.

  My left arm pushed with a surging might against the cold mass of my attacker. Numbness immediately filled my shoulder under the oppression of a determined grip. The ASP, now warm from my unrelenting right-handed grip, met the infected temple with a climax of adrenalized strength. A bone-cracking snap filled the stairwell, mimicking another gunshot.

  I would have been pulled down with the bastard, had his grip not released seconds after my strike. Continued momentum sent it towards the upwards stairs, where the nearly headless corpse lay. The sound of his head cracking on the stair filled my throat with bile.

  Throwing caution to the wind, we basically ran back to the rear door. There were more shambling masses in the alleyway. Several appeared to be pursuing a panicked pair of kids running to the east, away from our building. Another officer stood at the door, holding it ajar and discreetly surveying the alley. She saw us coming and nearly slammed the door shut. Had it not been for Lance’s vest and familiar utility belt jingle we would probably have been locked out. We ran inside and the thick metal door was closed, secured by the functioning and powerful magnetic lock.

  Moments after reaching safety, we heard pounding on the door. Guttural growling and moaning bled through the old, not-so-soundproof barrier. I crashed from the buildup of adrenaline, fighting both passing out and vomiting. I made a beeline for the bathroom, which was closely situated to the rear of the building.

  Once back in the office, I was bombarded with both questions and anger for leaving, but I was gone only a total of eighteen minutes and only outside for nine of those minutes. Then again, it was nine minutes that have reverberated in my mind from that day forth. Thankfully, Lance and I survived and I doubted very strongly that either one of us would ever make such stupid, careless mistakes again. Going forward, I’d not rush; I’d rather make sure my ass was covered.

  * * *

  0537 hours:

  Phones were ringing off the hook. Staying busy didn’t bother me; what bothered me was repeatedly lying to people.

  Every person I talked to was desperate, angry, scared, but what could I do? I had orders to follow and frankly, there simply wasn’t the manpower, and even if there was, we were kind of stuck in exactly the same situation that they were. Our families were also worried and alone, we were really trying our best.

  We got a printout supposedly from the chief that gave us a procedure for calls. Essentially it ordered us to do nothing. The printout told us to get a person’s location and as many details of the situation as possible. Then we were to assure them an officer would respond to their location as soon as they were able. In the meantime, they were encouraged to stay indoors and not to confront any strangers. Lying every time I picked up the phone bothered me more than the realization that I may have killed a man earlier in the evening.

  My mind combed through the incident repeatedly. I questioned myself as much as I questioned what was turning into my new reality. Did I kill him? Is it possible he was already dead?

  I wanted to talk to Sarah more than anything else in the world. My fingers kept starting to dial the house. I always stopped with the same thought. After lying every time I answered the phone here at work, telling my wife Everything is going to be ok… I’ll be home soon is a lie I wasn’t willing to tell.

  Chapter 5

  Confinement

  0600 hours:

  All the buildings were locked down. Only a handful of officers were at headquarters when things got closed up. Everyone else was either barricaded in buildings around campus or couldn’t be contacted anymore. Those who we still had contact with tried to get back, but with the roads being clogged by every obstruction imaginable, they didn’t get far.

  So far they were sticking with the magnetic locks on our building. If the generator started to go they would probably get the master keys and manually lock them. Once our doors were key locked, they could not be unlocked from the outside. In the meantime I could see why they would want to get in or out quickly. Three units were fairly close to Gladding Residence Center (GRC), a dorm/student townhome that was kind of set up like a fort. GRC was one of the few dorms still occupied by students. All others were supposedly cleared when classes started to get cancelled a few days before. It was a year-round dormitory housing eight hundred and thirty upperclassmen or graduate students. I wouldn’t have been surprised if over four hundred were left. Either seeking shelter or exercising prudence, they had made it inside and locked things up.

  The news was saying that the Reaper virus was being transmitted solely by bite wounds received by the infected. Time from initial infection to the victim succumbing varied on where the virus entered the body. People who only got a minor bite could take anywhere from twelve to twenty-four hours to succumb. However, if someone got bitten on, let’s say the neck, or an area with major blood flow, they turned in minutes.

  * * *

  0821 hours:

  My right wrist was throbbing. I found an ace bandage in one of the dozen partial first aid kits we had in dispatch. I doubted I sprained it or broke anything, but it seemed to help having a little extra support. The impact from swinging the baton against my attacker’s head must have reverberated back through my arm. I guess that I came out lucky, considering the violent attack, at least luckier than the other guy did. I wish my wrist was the only thing reminding me of what happened. It had been running through my head over and over. Recalling the sound made by the impact of both my baton and its skull against the step was enough to make me gag.

  The thought of taking another life was overwhelming. I found myself consumed with a cold self-dread. Then I’d think… consumed. Was that bastard trying to eat me? Logic told me I was absurd for even questioning such a thing. I wasn’t sure logic meant a goddamn thing anymore, quite honestly.

  * * *

  0900 hours:

  I talked to Sarah… didn’t elaborate on what happened. I told her I was safe in a secure building and I would find a way out as soon as I felt I could do so safely. I also left out the detail about the car – no need to worry her more than I had already.

  Things seem to be okay in our neighborhood as far as she knew. Sarah said she heard what sounded like a few distant gunshots throughout the night. Against my advice, she stepped out on the porch after sunrise to see if the cats were outside. Evidently all but one house in the cul-de-sac had empty driveways.

  In the few minutes she was out there, she saw a dozen luggage packed cars drive by. She could see a few people up the street boarding up windows. This update put me at ease just a bit. It sounded like most people were packing up and leaving, a stark contrast to what was going on outside our building. At least the rural areas seemed to be responding to the end of the world in an orderly fashion.

  Both kids were awake so Sarah let each of them talk with me. It’s amazing how hearing the sweet voices of your children can make you forget all your troubles. Maddox asked me when I was coming home, but all I could say was,
“I’ll be home soon, buddy, I just need to help the officers a little longer. Make sure you are helping Mommy and looking out for your little sister.” His response was a shy but serious, “Don’t worry, Daddy. I’ll make sure they are okay.”

  Talking to Calise made me want to break down. She very sweetly said she missed me, and to “watch out for the monsters, Daddy.” I guess they’d seen the news. At least the television still worked.

  * * *

  1130 hours:

  No one made it here from day shift. One called out; not a word from the others. I would be irritated, but I don’t know how they would get here. There were four dispatchers in, including me.

  The radio slowed down a bit since most officers were either unreachable or were barricaded inside random buildings. Phones were still busy, but not like before. My guess was that Richmond Police were getting it far worse than we were.

  Anyone dialing 9-1-1 got connected to the Richmond Police Department. If it was in one of our buildings we got a notification, but that was it. Part of me felt bad for RPD Communications; they had to be running themselves ragged. Then I remembered how unpleasant they tended to be when we had to talk to them. The term comeuppance came to mind.

  Everyone continued to ask me what happened on the deck. I was as vague as possible, only telling them to stay inside. I was the only dispatcher on duty parked at the deck; therefore no one else had the pressing need to go in there.

  Brad, a fellow dispatcher of the last several years, saw me wrapping my wrist a couple of hours ago. He motioned to it and asked me if I had a run in with anyone outside. I responded with an expressionless glance. Then he noticed what I had overlooked in the bathroom; a very dark crimson spatter stain on the right side of my undershirt by my neck. I opened my mouth to respond and he stopped me. “Why don’t you use the security master keys to unlock the managers’ office? Take the cushions from the window bench and make a little bed. We can all use a nap. Something tells me you should go first.”

  Partly pleased by the lack of pursued questioning, and very pleased at the thought of shutting my eyes; I agreed. My hope was that complete and utter exhaustion would overcome the images plaguing my mind.

  * * *

  1420 hours:

  I was dead to the world, totally immersed in a physically and emotionally exhausted cloud. A loud knock on the solid wooden office door brought me back to semi-consciousness.

  “Nathan, you should come out here watch the news.” It was the new part-time girl whose name I could never recall.

  I grumbled acknowledgement and rose from my makeshift bed. Slipping on my boots, I neglected to put my uncomfortable uniform shirt back on. It was hot in dispatch that day, a little more so than it always fucking was. If I had to stay here I’d rather be comfortable in just a simple white undershirt. In my groggy state I forgot about the bloodstain on my shirt.

  All eyes in the room were glued to the piece of shit television mounted in the corner above the lobby window when I emerged. The radio was silent, phones were ignored. A breaking news graphic gave way to the president, looking as if he hadn’t slept in a week.

  “My fellow Americans, I come to you this afternoon with an update on the R33PR virus plague. All representatives of the CDC are hard at work fighting this global pandemic, so I come to you alone.”

  He paused, breathing deeply. All the chaos inside and out immediately turned into white noise. Everything became falsely silent.

  “We have confirmed, in a cumulative defiance of anatomy and medicine, that this virus has the ability to reanimate a deceased human being. After reanimation, a person becomes violent and bloodthirsty. They seek and attack almost anything living. If they succeed in catching their target they attempt to feed on it. The medical community has been unable to study a reanimated person without extreme risk of infection to all nearby. This has left us with many assumptions. We assume the Reaper virus is somehow reanimating its victims as a means of further spreading itself. It has also been confirmed that anyone not killed outright by an attack becomes infected and eventually turns into a carrier themselves. There is no known cure. It is unclear how best to stop these unholy attackers if you are confronted. I urge all citizens to stay in your homes. Anyone who becomes infected, anyone, will turn into a violent carrier.”

  The roar of the reporters in the conference room caused him to pause. Trying to talk over the ruckus in front of him, he continued.

  “Effective immediately, I am declaring a nationwide state of martial law. In addition to all flights being grounded I am halting all rail travel to further attempt to halt the virus’ spread. And now I am burdened with a duty never required of an American president… all overseas U.S. armed forces are to be recalled from their global posts. Before now, American troops have never been deployed within the continental United States for combat purposes. These troops are to be stationed throughout urban areas in order to assist with containment of the Reaper virus. This is a formidable task due to the crippled state of global transportation. But rest assured, help will come. Anyone using this crisis as a means to violate the law will be found and prosecuted. Our strength as a nation and God’s grace will see us through these dark days. Thank you and God bless America.”

  The screen went back to the blank screen with “BREAKING NEWS” plastered in bold lettering. I muted the television. We didn’t need to hear any more of it.

  * * *

  1650 hours:

  There wasn’t any doubt that we were trapped there. A mob of thirty to forty people had formed out front. They looked plenty alive, just desperate. Ignoring pleas for help from people over the phone was one thing – having to ignore people outside our door was another matter entirely.

  A few of the people had bandaged wounds. My guess was that they’d been bitten. However, the bandaged ones seemed to be blending in with the crowd. We’d see how long that lasted once they turned.

  * * *

  1730 hours:

  Most everyone had gotten to take a nap in the manager’s office. The last person, the new girl that woke me up, was taking her turn.

  Our building was separated into three sections: A – communications, B – patrol/security/ communal areas, and C – all administrative offices, access to record storage, property and evidence rooms. It was a solid building. Before it was transformed into a police station it was a bar. Long before that it was something else. Whatever it was, it was still a solid old brick building. The reality was we could be in a much worse place.

  Some of the security people who got locked in made a similar sleeping set-up in the gym area. Everyone was taking turns getting some rest. Good thing too, since this wasn’t your average overtime assignment.

  I finally talked to Sarah again. The phones were still going nuts, but I neglected them for a few minutes. She was hearing more gunshots but none had been close. Living in the good ol’ capital of the South, we had a shitload of rednecks in our neighborhood. I’d always suspected our neighborhood would be better armed than a small country.

  The kids were napping when I called. Evidently they were taking things pretty well. The whole thing must have felt like a campout or something. I reiterated to Sarah that the house needed to look empty. She promised the drapes were staying closed and the only outside views came from peeking through cracks.

  She asked when I was coming home. Again I said soon. I told her that if I’m not able to get out of here in a few days, she needs to get the kids in the car and head to the farm. After a tearful protest she eventually agreed.

  Something was going on outside, it sounded like the screams were louder than usual…

  * * *

  1911 hours:

  I was beginning to realize why we hadn’t seen more infected outside – they just hadn’t turned yet.

  Thankfully I had just hung up with Sarah when we started hearing the renewed panic outside. The small congregation of desperate souls that had gathered outside of our building let out a joint shriek. It was loud enough to he
ar through the outer solid brick construction and drab office atmosphere.

  We jointly abandoned the phones and ran to the shuttered windows but we couldn’t see much. People were running west towards 7-Eleven. That struck me as odd. Nothing outside was what you would think of as orderly. Cars were strewn about, store windows were broken, and the air was polluted by distant smoke, but suddenly everyone was running in one direction? Then it hit me – they were running from something.

  I stepped back from my colleagues at the window to look at the security monitor mounted above the main door. It was hard to discern details from the poor quality picture. I saw a lot of people running, tripping, stampeding over each other. One person, looked like an older woman, was knocked down and stayed that way. Just beyond her sprawled, westward reaching body I saw what started the flood of panic.

  My initial count was four; that doubled quickly. They walked in a slow but determined way. It was hard to see individual features in the poor light, but the silhouettes were unmistakably chilling. Most walked at the same shuffled yet determined pace.

  The two in the front walked quicker. I wouldn’t call it a run though. It reminded me of those ridiculous speed walking old people in the mall. All stood in unnaturally stiff positions, their heads all lying limply at different angles. I think that’s what bothered me most. Then again, I couldn’t see specific details – I’m sure there were other things more bothersome about them.