Apocalypse Atlanta (16 page)

Jessica supposed she ought to be ashamed of herself for having to lean on her parents to help her through this, but all she actually did feel was relief.  Relief that they were on the way, that they’d be here soon to help her figure out what was supposed to happen.  She realized, as she sat there waiting, that when she’d gotten home, she had no further plans.

The only plan had been to get home, with Candice; but beyond that, nothing had occurred to her.  Even now, sitting on the couch, she realized the only plan, the only thoughts, she had were the ones her mom had just given her.  Be with Candice and watch the news.  She blinked several times as she felt her eyes starting to tear up a little.  She couldn’t do that.  She had to hang on a little longer.

A minute later, she heard footsteps on the stairs again, and Candice reappeared pushing the ear buds into her ears.  The girl sat down next to Jessica, then rotated her legs as she stretched out on the sofa and laid her head in Jessica’s lap.  As she looked at the MP3 player in her hand, Jessica hit the power button on the remote.

The familiar clicks and muffled whoomps sounded as the television and sound system speakers came to life.  After a moment, the screen lit with the Emergency Broadcasting System, white letters displaying and scrolling across a black background.  The scroll proclaimed something about a state of emergency having been declared for the Atlanta area.

Jessica glanced at the numbers showing on the cable box, then changed the channel over to one of the local affiliates.  The bottom of the screen had scrolling text on it, like one of the financial or sports channels; something she couldn’t remember ever seeing on the local news before.  Both nighttime anchors were at the desk, in the middle of the afternoon, with grave expressions as they faced the camera.

“–downtown looks like something out of a disaster film.  A number of the hotels in the tourist district there seem to be overrun, though our WSB crews haven’t been able to get close enough to find out if they’re the source or are merely caught up in this horrifying event.

“The downtown Georgia State University campus is only a few blocks away from where the worst of the disturbances seem to be happening.  And the capitol–” the man’s voice faltered suddenly, and he turned his head to the side and coughed quickly.

The female anchor took over for her colleague smoothly.  “As Justin was saying, the capital building is about a mile away from the major hotels, and half a mile from the downtown GSU campus.  Tamylin Carpenter, covering the story from the capitol, is telling us the governor has been evacuated.  She filed this footage only minutes ago.  Once again, we have to remind you, what you’re about to see may be disturbing to sensitive viewers.”

Jessica glanced down quickly, but Candice was lying with her head facing into her mother’s midsection, her hands folded over the mp3 player as she held it against her chest.  Her eyes were closed, but they flickered briefly when Jessica reached down and stroked a stray strand of hair off her daughter’s face.  She looked back to the television.

The screen switched away from the news desk to a busy building corridor.  Jessica saw the view jostling and shaking as the camera operator followed a crowd of people, and was shoved and bumped by more who surrounding him or her.  The camera was trying to maintain focus on what looked like a knot of state troopers, their distinctive ‘smoky bear’ hats marking them as clearly as their blue uniform shirts.

In their midst, she glimpsed a gray haired man wearing a suit that she supposed was the governor; he was being hustled along the corridor as she heard voices, mostly male, shouting angrily and commandingly for people to move aside.  Other voices were shouting questions that were ignored as the group kept moving.

The ring of troopers burst through the doors, and sunlight flooded the image.  A moment later, the camera operator reached the doors and stepped to one side, then forward to the edge of the steps.  The image stabilized as he stopped moving, and got away from the press of pushing and shoving people following the governor  Jessica could see more people, most of them reporters by the microphones, recorders, and cameras she saw them holding, rushing after the governor and being held back by the rearmost state police.
As the governor and his cordon of officers crossed the street, the camera remained where it was.  The governor disappeared into the parking deck that served the capitol, as the camera panned up just in time to catch a police helicopter coming in for a landing on the helipad on the top of the parking deck.  Jessica waited, watching as two people got out of the aircraft.

After a moment, she realized they looked odd, then blinked as the camera zoomed its focus in closer to the helipad.  They were wearing what looked like riot gear, heavy helmets with full face visors, and bulky body armor.  Despite the gear, they moved quickly as they ran away from the helicopter and vanished down the steps to the helipad.

Jessica continued watching, and about half a minute later saw them reappear with the governor between them.  Each officer had one of the governor’s arms, and they ran him over to the waiting aircraft.  As they helped him into one of the helicopter’s seats, Jessica heard screaming and shouting over the distant noise of the helicopter’s engine and blades.

The camera jostled around for a few moments, swinging slightly, then restabilized and centered again on the helicopter.  Jessica could see the pilot glancing over his shoulder as the two riot armored men got back in.  The moment both doors were closed, the pilot looked forward and the aircraft lifted off.  The camera tracked it for a few seconds, as it flew up into the sky, then the image swung down and to the left quickly enough to give Jessica a moment’s queasiness.

When the view stabilized, she was looking down the street in front of the Capitol building.  The main administrative center for the state government could be seen in the background of the image, a pair of tall office buildings that locals called the Twin Towers.  But what drew Jessica’s eye, immediately, was the uneven crowd of people she saw coming closer.  The camera zoomed in again, and Jessica drew a sharp breath of alarm.

The people all looked just like the students at the schools.  Indeed, some of them had Georgia State University apparel on, and others backpacks around their shoulders.  They moved with the same shambling, uncoordinated gait, had the same empty, expressionless looks on their faces.  The mass, it looked to be more than fifty people, was approaching the capitol.  As she watched, she saw a pair of people darting closer even as everyone else in frame seemed to be backing off.  The pair were media people, a cameraman and on-air reporter clutching a microphone.

Jessica held her breath as they moved right to the approaching crowd of victims.  The reporter seemed to be calling to the people, waving the microphone at them in broad, sweeping movements.  There was no response, other than the closest victims almost immediately changing the course of their forward progress to angle directly to the pair of reporters.

After maybe ten seconds, the reporter seemed to give up, and swung around to face the camera.  The man holding the camera started walking backwards as the reporter began walking forward, and the microphone came up to his mouth.  This continued for perhaps another ten seconds, as the reporter spoke into his microphone.

Then Jessica drew a sharp breath, as she saw one of the victims getting close to the reporter.  The cameraman saw it too, and she saw him reach out a hand toward his colleague, making an urgent motion.  Rather than move, the reporter glanced over his shoulder.  As he did so, the victim’s flexing fingers made contact with the reporter’s shoulder.

Jessica’s hand flew to her mouth as the reporter was pulled over backwards, stumbling to the ground.  The victim went down with him, and she saw the head lowering over the reporter’s body.  The cameraman abandoned all pretense of covering the scene, letting the camera fall from his shoulder into one hand as he stepped forward and grabbed the reporter’s ankle, pulling.  The reporter slid a few feet, but the victim remained hunched over him.  She could see the reporter struggling against the victim.

A few moments later, as two more victims reached the reporter on the ground, Jessica saw the cameraman drop the camera to the street and put his other hand on his coworker’s ankle.  The man heaved, and the reporter slid out from beneath the victim above him.

Jessica saw blood on the reporter’s chest, and he was yelling something as he beat frantically at the victim with both hands.  The cameraman ran backwards maybe a dozen steps, dragging the reporter by the foot with both hands.  He didn’t stop until they were about ten feet from the leading edge of the crowd.

Then he bent down and got the reporter to his feet, pulling one of the man’s arms around his own shoulders.  Stumbling, the reporter was led away, leaning heavily on his cameraman.  As they came closer, Jessica watched as the WSB camera operator tracked the pair of media.  She saw the blood was coming from the reporter’s upper chest, where his shirt was sporting a jagged hole.  A spread red stain was rapidly soaking the front of the man’s shirt, and by the time they reached the front steps of the capitol his head was lolling weakly.

Jessica heard more shouting, as did whoever was shooting the footage, because the image swung sharply to the right.  She saw about ten state troopers gathered in the street just beyond the capitol steps.  As the camera came to them, they began throwing things down the street.  The camera held them for a few seconds, as they each threw something, then tracked left to show smoking canisters bouncing on the street in front of and in the midst of the approaching crowd of victims.

Whatever it was, and Jessica thought it was probably tear gas or some such, it didn’t seem to bother the victims at all.  They continued their shambling, shuffling progress; moving closer to the now scattering group of people in front of the capitol building.

Some people were running down the street, away from the crowd.  Others were pushing back inside the capitol.  A few were running across the street and disappearing into the parking deck.  Jessica watched as the WSB camera operator held their position, capturing the scene with broad pans that took in as much as possible, until the leading edge of the approaching victims were only a dozen feet away.

At that point the camera backed up, holding focus, until the image jerked sharply.  The view swung crazily, and Jessica was able to figure out a moment later the operator had taken the camera off his or her shoulder, and was inside the building.

The view switched, and she was looking at the WSB anchor desk again.  The male anchor cleared his throat, and when he began speaking, his voice was steady and professional again.  “Again, that footage was shot only minutes ago at the Capitol Building downtown.  We don’t yet know what the status is of the reporter who was injured, nor do we yet know where the governor is being taken by State Police.  However, we have new information that’s just come in from the CDC.  Erin?”

The female anchor faced the camera as the image changed to a tight shot of her.  “The CDC has just issued an update on the situation through fax and on their website.  As we understand it, this was sent to every medical facility in the country, not just here in Georgia, and is also being transmitted to emergency responders.”

The image shifted to the right, and a text box appeared above her shoulder.  Erin looked down at a piece of paper in her hand and began reading.  “The CDC has determined that victims of this disease are exhibiting both aggression and a lack of comprehension of their actions.  Victims are identifiable by a lack of coordination and fine motor control and unresponsiveness to verbal or visual stimuli.

“In all cases, they seem to be hyper aggressive to anyone near them.  Many are inflicting injuries, some of them very serious and life threatening injuries, to those who attempt to aid them.  The CDC is urging anyone coming into contact with victims of this disease to move away, immediately.  Do not try to assist them, do not try to restrain them.  Contact emergency responders.”

* * * * *

Peter made sure the garage door was down and closed fully before he went into the house.  It seemed strange and barren, which he told himself was silly.  He’d only been gone a little while.

“But Amy will be gone forever.”
a voice whispered in the back of his head.

Abruptly the enormity of it seemed to materialize on his shoulders as one massive weight.  He wasn’t prepared for it, for the surge of emotion and pain that he could no longer hold back, and dropped to his knees with a wail.  Peter felt the unmanly tears rolling down his cheeks and didn’t care.  He cried harder, hammering his fists on the clean linoleum titles of the kitchen’s floor.

“Goddamnit!” he shouted.  “Motherfucker!  Why?  Why?  Why?”

No answer came.  Peter brought his fists down over and over, screaming, as the tidal wave of agony rolled out.  He could barely breathe, his sobs were coming so thick and fast, but he didn’t care.  Passing out would be a blessing.  He didn’t even realize he had moved on to knocking his head against the floor until a sharp pain, accompanied by a serious wave of dizziness, sent him sprawling over on his side.

When he finally got control of himself, Peter rolled onto his back to catch his breath.  The unaccustomed feeling of tears on his face embarrassed him, a little, but he shrugged it off.  Thirty-three years was worth a few tears.  Even if he did have to shed them in private.  He’d never really considered the possibility of Amy’s loss.  He had always assumed he’d go first.