The Reaper Virus Page 7

  Their advancement forward was direct and westbound. I tried to convince myself they were just poor people running with the rest; those thoughts ended the instant they saw the trampled woman. She looked alive still, just incapacitated.

  Even in the low light you could see the head of the foremost infected pursuer swing around in the woman’s direction. The rest of the unholy pack shifted their path to the sidewalk where she laid. It didn’t take them long to reach her; and moved with new purpose.

  I watched in horror. Not even the low lighting could spare me from the grisly scene. The first infected leapt on her from a few feet away. Second and third place followed suit. There wasn’t a goddamn thing she could have done. Soon it became a writhing pile of limbs. Poor lighting saved me from seeing the gore that must have spilled from the pile.

  Most of the infected remained over the woman, wriggling and frenzied like piranha. The ones in the back of the herd must not have had luck getting through to the feast. They continued westward, back in a slow pursuit of the desperate crowd. At the very least, the woman bought everyone else some time and distance.

  I went back to my desk tasting bile once again. There was no point in watching the monitor any longer. My colleagues were still at the window. I loudly said that it would be a good idea to stay away from the windows when the infected walked by. We’d be fooling ourselves by thinking they would never find us in here, but there was no need to draw attention to ourselves sooner than necessary.

  Everyone cleared from the window area, ducking around the corner from the nook leading to our shuttered outdoor view. The window was barely in my line of sight from the rear cubicle, which I used to call home. Shutters were closed. Only dim illuminated outlines of the wooden curtains could be seen. Then even the outlines disappeared.

  Outside, the infected must have passed by one by one. The sliver of light disappeared and reappeared in an almost rhythmic fashion. The communications room became enveloped in silence. Either the phones stopped or the sound of my heart beating drowned them out.

  My pulse raced further when the crack of light went out and stayed that way. I glanced at the security monitor with dread. What I assume was the last of the pursuing ghouls had stopped directly in front of the window. It was so close to the camera, yet you could barely see a thing. I think it was wearing a hospital gown. Its silhouetted head was hanging limp and forward. Bile again filled my throat with the realization that its jaw was opening and closing in a snapping motion. The creature paused for maybe a minute before joining its infected brethren in the hunt.

  The others returned to their desks. I started answering phones again. Whatever the person on the other end was saying went in one ear and out the other. It didn’t matter anyway – the phone calls were starting to blend together. Everyone was scared. Everyone was angry. Everyone was desperate.

  Erin (the last stuck dispatcher) was taking her turn to nap. I was thankful that my turn was next. Sure I was exhausted, but there was so much going on that I doubted I’d find sleep. I just wanted to be home.

  Chapter 6

  Hopeless Night

  Day Eight.

  November 17th – 0011 hours:

  In the two hours I was allotted, I may have slept thirty-five minutes. It was hard to erase from my mind the things I’d witnessed. Walking into the office I felt as if I’d been buried alive. Beyond the horrors I’d experienced in the last day, I couldn’t shake a single thought from my head. I had the sinking, nauseating feeling that I would never leave this wretched place… I simply hoped and prayed that the feeling was wrong and that my pessimistic side was just overworking itself again.

  I took out my cell phone when I was lying there on the makeshift bed. The camera on it isn’t great, but that was what I was counting on. Hopefully the poor quality would hide the tears streaming from my face.

  First I recorded a message for Maddox. I told him how proud I was of him. He was the first great thing I ever made of my life. I asked him to be brave and to look out for his little sister and his mommy. Next was a message to Calise. I started by telling her that she is without a doubt the sweetest thing I have ever known, that being her dad has made me a better man and that she would always, always be Daddy’s little girl.

  I had to take a minute to compose myself before recording Sarah’s message. How can you possibly tell the love of your life and the mother of your children how you feel in a damned cell phone video? Wiping the tears away I decided to keep it short and to the point. Through a genuine smile I told her that I loved her from the moment I saw her. That I cherished every moment we had shared together and that I was sorry I had to break my promise to come home. I had to stop, the tears became too much. I could have talked forever, but I quickly said I loved her and that I would always watch over them.

  I removed the Micro SD card from the cell and put it in one of the rooms’ computers. Opening each movie file, I checked to make sure they recorded alright. I changed each filename to the name of the recipient. Finally, I filled the info box with their date of birth, social security number, and current address. The whole process in itself was exhausting. I was finding it difficult to muster up the mental strength to even consider what the future might bring.

  My survival pack was previously the same green JanSport book bag I carried from middle school through college. Its interior nylon dividers had since torn and turned the two sections into one. On September 11th, 2001, I took one of those little American flags they hand out at parades and stapled it to the front pocket. It’s still there, albeit minus a few staples and on the faded/frayed side. I had cleaned it out before, just not in ten years or so. The bottom was a compilation of scraps: a couple of zip lock bags, various pens, a note pad, etc.

  Ejecting the Micro SD card, I made sure its ‘lock’ feature was activated. Then I took one of the decade old zip lock bags and placed the card inside, sealing it and wrapping it up to the point where all you could see was layered plastic. Reaching back in my pack I took out the second most important item (first being my Kukri), a small roll of duct tape.

  From what I had seen so far, the turned infected didn’t exactly maintain their ‘public decency’ so to speak. Again, I’d never gotten a well-lit view, but some had been missing clothing or barely wearing any at all. I’d be damned if the final messages to my family got lost in a ripped pocket or even looted. Thus I took the plastic wrapped memory card and duct tapped it to my left shin.

  At least my message should get delivered no matter what happens to me. I was willing to sacrifice some leg hair if it meant I could say goodbye.

  I looked like shit. My appearance hadn’t really occurred to me until I was looking at my image on the computer monitor. If you looked closely you could even see the blood spattered on my white crew collar.

  * * *

  0100 hours:

  There weren’t any more people banging on our doors and windows outside. Sure there was banging – but not from live people.

  A group of around twenty infected had gathered. Fuck it… I was just going to call them zombies. The desperate people pleading to get in before were probably infected. These aren’t people anymore. They all move like the monsters that devoured that poor woman.

  I knew it was only a matter of time before they found us. We were practically a beacon being fully lit with that damned generator rumbling in the back. They were gathered around the front doors for A and B. Double glass doors serve as B’s entrance.

  Thank God for bulletproof glass… it worked for dead pounding fists too. I highly doubt the original contractors had that in mind when they installed the doors. Even with my now extinct horror genre fandom, I wouldn’t even have let that thought cross my mind a week ago.

  * * *

  0140 hours:

  Most news sites have stopped updating. I can only assume this meant the same thing was happening everywhere. The internet worked to a limited extent, though it wasn’t anywhere near reliable enough to get useful information off of. I though
t about trying to email people with warnings or to get a read on what was going on elsewhere in the world. However, I decided against that once I realized that I was only able to get online because of the generators and not many others would have the same luxury.

  I was shocked how at how it all was happening so fast. The world was unraveling in days or even hours. If I had known things would have snow-balled this quickly I wouldn’t have come in. I would have stayed home had I even thought such a decline were possible. That old saying, “Hindsight is twenty/twenty,” has always pissed me off.

  In the past hour the phones had reached their most active state. Judging by what was going on here and what I was hearing on the phone, the first group infected by the Reaper virus had finished their transformation.

  * * *

  0306 hours:

  Phone calls had started to slow down. There were still plenty coming in, but nowhere near the frantic pace of an hour before.

  Over the last day the gunshots had slowed down too. We still heard them, but not like the night before when I was on the deck. Then about twenty minutes after that we started hearing a lot of shots. It sounded like they were coming from right outside on Grace Street.

  Looking into the monitors you could see several small flashes coming seconds before the delayed pops. The occasional dark figure would fall to the concrete corresponding flash and bang.

  Turns out while I was napping a few of the officers trapped in the building found the roof access hatch. They had walked over towards the front of the building and were doing their best to thin out the crowd.

  The seething mob reached up into the raining bullets. Their determination, their unrelenting hunger, and their combined guttural shrieks all left the pit in my stomach deeper. Even as the few officers rained bullet after bullet into the tainted bodies, they continued to reach.

  Erin and New Girl were at the window. They cheered at first when the infected went down. Brad came out from his nap in the manager’s office with the sound of the first shots. I didn’t move from my desk, I just watched the monitor, unblinking and focused. I felt as if getting my hopes up would mentally jinx any chance of our salvation.

  Then the fallen corpses began to move. Those who had sustained injuries to only the lower portions of their bodies did not stay dead. Each horrifyingly started to rise from their bullet-ridden crime scenes. Any optimistic feelings at the window box died there. Brad went back to his desk. The girls just kind of froze. I looked back at my computer monitor. My thought was so prominent that I think I said it out loud.

  “Shit. They are zombies…”

  * * *

  0558 hours:

  The time came when we were faced with the reality of how secure our fortress really was. We heard a scream echo down the hall. Seconds later were two gunshots followed by more yelling. Then a final shot. Before I could stop myself I was already running down the hall. I wish I had stayed in my cubicle.

  It was a blood bath wrapped in commotion. I saw two bodies. The first was a security guard sitting in one of the kitchen chairs facing the hallway that led to the back door. His neck had been torn out on the left side. The corresponding side of his light gray security shirt was still glistening from his spilled life. He was slumped over, what had been the back of his head still dripped gore onto the pistol dropped to his side.

  Behind him was a tall, older man in uniform. I quickly realized it was one of the captains. The direction of his fall indicated that he had exited from the secured inner door leading to the C section. That side of the building was off-limits to everyone but commanders and administrative staff. My guess was that he had himself locked on that side. God only knew how long he had been reanimated, or how long it took him to bump into the exit button on the other side of the door. The poor security guard was probably asleep in the chair when the captain came through.

  The good captain was laying face down – you couldn’t see much. His right arm fell forward. It looked as if one of the fired rounds hit the hand on his reaching arm. Most of the fingers were gone. His body was resting in a small pool of muck. It reminded me of the color of red hair dye. Looking closely you could see the red, but from a passing glance it looked black. There was also a shocking difference in the amount of “blood” left by both the captain and the security guard. Red spatter stuck to the ceiling tiles above, while the pool around the guard’s body continued to grow.

  I didn’t want the details on what happened. If anything I wanted to forget the sight altogether. Lance stood on the opposite side. We exchanged empty glances. After all, what was there to be said?

  I’d seen more than enough. Slowly I walked back to dispatch ready to be pummeled by questions. As soon as I walked through the door Brad passed me to see the scene himself. I summarized things for Erin and New Girl. We sat in silence. The phones went unanswered for a while after that.

  * * *

  0630 hours:

  The sun was due to come up soon. I was curious to see what kind of world it would illuminate. Maybe curious wasn’t the right word… horrified was probably more fitting.

  Phone calls had slowed even more, but they still came in. I would address the morale in the building if there were any morale left. The corporal, who I guess was now the highest ranking officer around, pried open the vending machines and spread the wealth. A Twix bar and Mountain Dew became the best tasting snack of my life. It’s funny how living off of power bars and pretzels for a couple days can make anything taste divine. Hey, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about my caffeine headache for a little while.

  My feeling of vulnerability reached its peak after seeing the aftermath of the kitchen incident. Concealed by my cubicle wall, I pulled my Kukri out and set it on the desk. I took my belt off and fished it through the loop holes on the leather scabbard so that it hung on my right side in a more intimidating way than any gun holster would. Its weight was comforting although I hoped to God I never had to use it. Regardless, I was so thankful to have it.

  A flash of the attack in the parking deck stairwell worked through my mind. My wrist throbbed through the ace bandaging. I shook it off and got up to stretch my legs. So far my views of the front had been from the monitors. At that point I didn’t see any harm in looking through the crack in the window shutters.

  When I walked past Erin she gawked at my gladiator-esque weapon. “Is that real?” she inquired in an ignorant and ridiculous way.

  “No, it’s a toy that makes me feel like a man. I figured it might give the zombies a good laugh when they break through our doors to eat us. Don’t ask stupid fucking questions,” I snapped back.

  By the way, when I’m sleep deprived my internal sensor shuts off and my inner smart ass takes over.

  Her eyes started to well up and I immediately felt guilty. I gave her a hug and apologized. She said it was okay and asked if she could see my “fake” sword. I slid it out of its resting place and set it on her desk with a thud.

  She nearly dropped it and let out a slight gasp. After a comment about not expecting it to be so heavy she handed it back to me. Feeling its weight return to my side gave me a little confidence boost.

  It was time to go and peek outside at the infected. Might as well learn what I could in case another close encounter was in my future.

  * * *

  0842 hours:

  I sat in the window box for maybe forty minutes. The phones were ringing, but we’d stopped answering most calls. I wasn’t the only one who was tired of lying to people.

  The sun slowly rose but it provided little light. I was reminded of the late autumn fog that often radiated up from the James River. Except this wasn’t fog, it was smoke. Somewhere, Richmond was burning. However, a little light was succeeding in breaking through the veil. I found myself transfixed and sickened by watching the infected mob.

  The officers gave up their efforts on the rooftop. I don’t know if it was to save ammunition or that they just couldn’t stomach it any longer. A low wall of corpses surrounded
the front of our building, but I suspected that eventually more would come. Through the commotion it was hard to tell exactly how many stayed down. My guess was at least twenty had stayed “dead.”

  A barrage of bullets may not have killed all of them, but it certainly left a mark. Many had visible wounds that would have killed a normal person. The most grisly was an infected man wearing only his boxer shorts and one gray tube sock. It looked as if a round struck him on his cheek and took much of the lower jaw with it. His arm was wrapped in a filthy bandage and dried blood coated his chest. Others had bullet wounds trailing viscous crimson. There was one teenage looking girl who could have passed for a normal person if it wasn’t for her movements.

  That was the other thing… how they moved. I watched them closely. Their movements were both fascinating and confusing. One moment they were still and rigid. The sight of most reminded me of the “scarecrow” I saw at the other end of the parking deck. Their heads hung limp on useless necks in any direction, each sickening jaw snapping at the air.

  Across the sidewalk I caught a glimpse of one as it vomited muck out like a fountain of bile. It stood just as stiffly as the others with its head drooped forward. Even as it spewed a disgusting mix all over itself its posture did not change; mouth biting at nothing. Then something would get their attention. In an instant, the creatures would turn from near statues into rabid animals. It reminded me of a crocodile exploding from the water at a shoreline to drag a meal into the water. Temporary dexterity returned long enough for them to lunge arms out toward whatever attracted them. Their heads would jolt to an upright position with the jaw springing open at an unnatural angle.