Infection: Alaskan Undead Apocalypse Page 4

  Chapter 8

  Arriving at his office building earlier than usual, Kurt Tolliver sat and waited in the comfort of his car. He was just so happy with his most recent acquisition: a green Subaru Forrester. He fidgeted with the overhead digital temperature display, clock, and compass. He was still finding new features on his car, a veritable treasure trove of gadgets and extras. The sound dampening glass very nearly muted the approaching sirens of the emergency vehicles.

  He, like most people in Anchorage, was not necessarily indifferent to sirens like those unfortunate souls consigned to the life of a large American city. He was, however, distracted, and in the back of his mind he remembered that they were awfully close to the hospital. The occasional siren was not completely out of the ordinary. Perhaps the sheer numbers of sirens and the feeling that they were all converging exactly where he was should have warranted some concern, but, again, he was distracted with his new car.

  He got out, started to step away, and then remembered his briefcase in his back seat. He pressed the button on his door remote and, opening the rear door on the driver side, leaned into the backseat, reaching all the way across to the opposite side. The “new car” smell greeted him again like it was the first time its doors had ever been opened.

  Chapter 9

  Neil, standing at the window and still waiting for the lovely Lani, watched as what appeared to be a drunken man staggered across the parking lot in the direction of the parked Subaru. The unsteady figure trudged through two fairly sizable water puddles in his trek across the lot. His steps were like those of a toddler but his direction was undeniable. He was on a collision course with the new green Subaru.

  To Neil, the man appeared to be wearing a uniform of sorts—a security guard perhaps. He caught faint glints of reflection from what appeared to be a badge on his chest. He was certain that whatever company the man worked for would certainly be proud today. What a great representative for their services and their company.

  He was thinking to himself that he was glad he had recognized when it was time to stop drinking. He didn’t envy the headache the drunk man was sure to have later today.

  Neil saw the curly haired blonde guy get out of his car while the other guy got even closer. And then Neil realized that something wasn’t right. He wasn’t quite sure what exactly it was, but there was something exceptionally odd about the staggering man. He evinced quite a bit of agitation and maybe even aggression, Neil observed, and as he got nearer to the oblivious curly haired blonde guy, his pace quickened and his arms rose. It appeared as if he was going to grab him. To do what, Neil wasn’t entirely sure, but he was pretty sure that it wasn’t going to be good.

  Chapter 10

  Kurt Tolliver, having retrieved his leather portfolio from his backseat, stood away from his car. He looked at the steel and glass building in front of him, catching sight of a reflection of a pair of sea gulls circling. Looking up and watching the birds’ reflections whirl and swirl in updrafts of air, he breathed in deeply and tasted the moisture as it crawled into his lungs. Something didn’t seem quite right to him, though it was just a hint of smell that tickled his nose and brought on a sneeze. As he doubled over with the force of the sneeze, he thought he heard something that sounded like someone was hitting the inside of a window on the building.

  When he had recovered from his expiation, he stood back up and saw the reflection of something else altogether in the mirrored glass in front of him. There was someone else with him; right next to him in fact. He turned and saw unbridled rage in the ravenous eyes of a man that didn’t seem quite human.

  Kurt turned to run, but his attacker’s hands found their mark; one grabbing his arm and the other finding purchase in his blonde curls. He screamed in fear, a sound that he had never heard come from himself before.

  Chapter 11

  Neil dropped his coffee cup and started pounding on the glass of his first floor office window. But it was all for naught and too late. Like a snagged fish, Kurt Tolliver was hooked and caught.

  Neil was frozen. It didn’t seem that any of this could be real. How could it be? The staggering man pulled his victim to the pavement, clawing and biting and ravaging him brutally. He was acting like a wild animal, a predator who’d just brought down his kill.

  Neil tried in vain to move his legs but he was planted, as immobile as a granite statue. His breathing was shallow. The quiet had returned to the room, but this quiet was anything but peaceful.

  Unable to think of anything else to do, he spun around and found a phone. He punched 911 on the dial pad and then walked back to his post at the window, stretching the cord behind as he went. The blonde haired guy...the victim, was no longer struggling. His attacker was still violently assailing him, but, like the still very much alive moth that is devoured by the spider, the poor man was only able to flex his hands feebly, painfully with each vicious bite. Just seconds later, his hands were no longer moving. It was over. At least it should have been over, but the assailant was still biting at him and tearing away pieces of him. He was…eating him.

  He bit at the now exposed stomach of the man and pulled off a large piece of dripping, white flesh. He chewed hungrily and was moving in for another bite even before he’d finished the first.

  That was enough for Neil. The phone, he suddenly realized, had been playing a recorded message about all lines being busy and to try his call back later. The voice was very sorry for any inconvenience but they were experiencing a high volume of calls right then, according to the repeated message. He just dropped the phone and ran to the storage room.

  “Where the fuck is it? Where the f...?” And then he had his hands on it; a long white locking security cable for laptop computers. Looking out the window to make sure the ghoul was still busy with his fresh kill, Neil ran out to the front doors of the office building to lock them with the cable.

  When he reached the door, he saw that another vehicle had pulled up out front, having come in from the rear entrance. A brown Chevy truck pulled into the parking lot and stopped a fair distance away from the green Subaru and the two men still on the pavement. The driver, a shortish blonde woman who Neil had seen in the building from time to time, got out and started across the lot. She was on her cell phone and completely unaware of the horror that was unfolding only yards away from her.

  Who could she possibly be talking to at this hour of the morning? Neil watched as she got closer and closer, finally drawing the attention of the attacker who leapt to his feet and started running toward her. She realized immediately that he was coming after her so she reeled about and ran back to her truck. She had a good lead and was able to get into the vehicle just seconds before her chaser reached her.

  Neil was about to wrap the wire around the door handles when he noticed that the blond haired guy was starting to move again. In fact, the man was able to get himself to his feet again.

  “Hey, are you okay? Hey!” Neil shouted, and was starting out the door until the man turned around and started running straight at him. As he ran, Neil watched his insides slowly spill out in red and pink folds of flesh onto the pavement and get left behind, some still attached and trailing behind him like some horrible preternatural tail.

  “Fuck this!” he shouted, and pulled the heavy glass front doors closed. He wrapped the cable tightly around the door handles and then fastened the lock. Almost at once, the curly headed blonde guy was there clawing at the glass, leaving bloody streaks and smears. The sound he was making was anything but human. It sounded labored and primordial and hungry. Neil stood there only long enough to make sure that the woman in the truck wasn’t in any immediate danger but for some reason she hadn’t started the truck and driven away. The answer lay in the middle of the lot, a pile of strung black and white beads and notched metal. She’d dropped her keys in her surprise and haste and was now trapped and under siege in the very tenuous safety of her vehicle.

  Neil backed away from the doors hoping that they would hold long enough for him to
figure out what to do and then do it. He went back into the office and tried the phone again, only to verify that the lines were all still busy. He sat down at his chair for just a moment to think.

  He wouldn’t be able to get to his car because it was out front near the Subaru. He was cut off from it. He did, however, know where the keys were for the company vehicle, which was parked downstairs in a secure parking garage.

  He had to think fast. He had to stay in control. What would he need? He couldn’t quite control his breathing as he fought to clear his thoughts. Absently, he went to the staff refrigerator and dumped the several unopened water bottles into the bottom of an empty copy paper box. The box was a lucky find—the new janitorial crew had once again, thankfully, forgotten to take all the trash when they serviced the office this weekend. He tossed into the box a partial loaf of bread and a plastic jar of peanut butter as well. He couldn’t bring himself to take the leftovers in the Styrofoam containers. They just remained off limits in his mind. He grabbed the keys from the filing drawer at the front desk and even thought to grab the small set of tools on the shelf in the storeroom. The hammer he gripped in his hand and swung several times, intending to use it more as a tomahawk or hatchet as opposed to its original purpose. He was having a hard time balancing the box, now also laden with a fire extinguisher from the wall, while trying to also hold the hammer, so he elected to hook the hammer’s head into a belt loop and let it hang loosely. He took three deep breaths, holding each, and tried to prepare himself to venture out. He looked at the clock as he set himself to depart, a habit he had developed over the years coming and going at the office. It was just minutes after seven in the morning.

  He peeked out and saw the mutilated curly haired blonde man still clawing at the front doors. The security cable seemed to be holding tight, but he didn’t see the point in pushing matters. He went down to the basement garage in the elevator. The garage door was still securely closed, and the only vehicles in the garage were the company minivan, a vintage Corvette draped in a white dust cover, and a maintenance truck.

  Neil ran as fast as his cumbersome load would allow, and threw himself into the front seat of the minivan. Dropping the keys twice in his haste, he finally got the van started. With the doors securely locked, he sat and pondered his next move, concentrating as he did on slowing his breathing, knowing that if he wasn’t careful he might hyperventilate. Calming himself, he tried to focus on the task at hand. He didn’t have anything with which to defend himself and he was pretty certain that he would need something before too long. He could go to Fred Meyer’s. They had food, water, and, perhaps most importantly for his peace of mind, firearms.

  He opened the garage and saw another car, a small sedan, scream by nearly out of control. Even with the windows up, he could hear the wail of sirens coming from every direction. On the not too distant horizon, just in front of the sunrise still in its daily infancy, a pillar of smoke was making its lazy way to the sky. The smoke appeared to be rising up from somewhere near the hospital. He needed to get to Fred’s quickly, but he didn’t want to drive like that sedan. He needed to be smart. He looked at his full gas gauge and felt better. Turning on the radio, though, wasn’t any comfort at all. He heard the test pattern and the recording that “...if this were an actual emergency....” No news.

  He needed to get to the highway and head south, intending to get Fred Meyer’s quickly before things got completely out of control. As he passed the front parking lot, he noticed that the woman in the truck still hadn’t moved. Her attacker was still pounding away at the front of the truck and on the metal doors, but thankfully he hadn’t been able to breach the windows yet. Neil then saw the woman who sat up for a brief second. Even from this distance, the two of them caught one another’s eyes.

  Neil stopped in the middle of the road, took a deep breath, gripped the steering wheel, and turned sharply into the parking lot, heading straight for the truck. The woman’s assailant was on the passenger side of her truck so that was where Neil aimed his van. His engine growled slightly as he fed it gas and urged it forward quicker and quicker.

  He hit the other man, sending him flying out of the parking lot and onto the grass that ran along the highway several feet away. Neil shot a look at the woman who was crawling out of her passenger door. Neil flipped the switch to the lock, but she was already pulling on the handle. Nothing happened. She pulled and pulled again. Neil was unable to do anything. Every time he hit the switch she was pulling. He finally reached across and flipped the lock open manually.

  Screaming, she hopped into the door just as the man was getting back up and over to them. Neil now saw that it was a uniform the other man was wearing. It was an apparently battle-worn security guard uniform, and the name patch just above his shiny badge read: Lynus.

  “You okay?”

  Wild-eyed she demanded, “Just drive! Get us the fuck outta here!”

  Neil swung the van around, dragging Lynus through part of the parking lot until the deranged guard fell off, rolling violently away. Just seconds later, Neil and his new passenger were heading south on the Seward Highway making their way toward the Midtown Fred Meyer, which was within sight of them even as they got on the main road. Neil, never taking his eyes off of the road, said, “My name is Neil.”

  Chuckling quietly to herself, the woman answered, “Rachel.”

  “Why did you laugh?”

  She looked over at him and answered, “That’s the name of the guy I was talking to on the phone back there.”

  Neil answered with a nod and nothing more. The rest of the drive was highlighted only by the repeating cycle on the radio of the Emergency Broadcast System. It was just under five minutes before they were pulling into the nearly empty parking lot of the big box store. He pulled right up to the front doors and stopped.

  Rachel looked at him and asked, “What the hell are we stopping here for...some early Christmas shopping?”

  “We need supplies.”

  “You think this is going to be some kind of fucking camping trip? We need to go to the police. We need some protection.”

  “Listen, I don’t know if you could hear or not, but I think I heard every siren in the city heading toward the hospital. My guess is that there aren’t any police left to help us. And until they can, we’ve got to help ourselves. There is something really weird and really wrong going on right now and what I’d like to do is get out of its way.”

  “What’d’ you have in mind?”

  Chapter 12

  Authorities in bunkered hospital offices tried desperately to determine what was happening and what could be done about it. They watched on surveillance cameras as groups of fleeing survivors moved from floor to floor and from department to department. There seemed to be no exits still available. There was also no time to talk or to plan as each door or stairwell that was barricaded was systematically broken down and hordes of attackers poured through. As each new area was abandoned, fewer and fewer members of these groups continued. They were being exterminated little by little.

  In one fleeing group, Dr. Caldwell, who had attempted to treat little Martin Houser much earlier that morning, was starting to understand that any bite, regardless of severity or treatment, was lethal. Even more troubling was that he was also beginning to understand that the bites also initiated a biological change in the victim that ultimately led to...the reanimation of dead tissue. It was nearly impossible for him to accept. He was a man of science and healing and this was the stuff of science fiction.

  The reanimated victims were only human in appearance, retaining no memory, no faculties aside from basic ambulation and senses, and no restraint or fear. What they did develop, however, was a seemingly insatiable hunger and a ruthless disregard for any sense of compassion. They became, in essence, cannibalistic homicidal machines.

  The horrific things he had seen today made his head swim and his stomach turn. Patients, restricted to their beds by injury or illness, were butchered were they lay. Recove
ry rooms had become hellish smorgasbords. He shuddered to think what had happened to those innocents in the nursery and in the NICU. Maybe the monsters hadn’t made it that far yet. Maybe the security doors had been blocked and had held the mob at bay.

  He looked at what remained of their group. There were maybe twenty people with him. They were exhausted and terrified and not sure where they were going to go next. He wasn’t sure on what floor they were, but knew that they couldn’t keep going up indefinitely. Eventually they’d come to the top floor and be trapped. If only they could know where to go or what to do, but even then he could hear the moaning from the stairwell getting louder and closer. They were still being followed. He knew they had to keep moving, but before they did he wanted to do a quick assessment of their group.

  There was one police officer with them, though his pistol had proven largely ineffective in even slowing the pursuers, let alone discouraging or stopping the pursuit. There were a couple of maintenance workers in long blue coveralls, some nurses (both male and female), and a collection of administrative personnel such as office clerks and secretaries. Perhaps most troubling, especially if his hypothesis about the effects of the bites was true, there were three members of the group who had been bitten and one of them was starting to look more and more like that little boy from the emergency room, the Houser boy.

  He took the police officer aside to express his fears. The officer nodded as he listened but his face twisted in incredulity. He listened to everything the doctor had to say and then asked, “So what are you saying, Doc? Should we leave those three here or just shoot them now?” There was a certain degree of skepticism in the officer’s words but enough seriousness to indicate that the officer was at least aware that these were very serious options that needed to be considered.