Endemic Rise of the Plague (12 page)

As Roxy sped down Hells Canyon, she watched in surprise as Ann sat silently for nearly twenty seconds in the seat beside her. Realizing that she mistakenly misjudged Ann’s condition as dead,
relief washed over Roxy that she hadn’t begun chest compressions on a live person.

“
Are you okay? The turn for the hospital is just after Saddle Brook Park. I thought I lost you there,” Roxy said lightly.

Ann whipped her head in the driver’s direction, her eyes—dark and vacant like the trespassers that had invaded Roxy’s home. She sprang forward snapping her teeth at Roxy. Repeatedly chomping, each time her blackened teeth generated a clank as she slammed her mouth shut, inches from Roxy’s face and arms. The dogs in the backseat stood obnoxiously barking—nearly in unison at the passenger. Roxy slid her body up against the car door, trying to stay away from Ann’s clamping jaw.

“Ann!” Roxy screamed.

Ann continued snapping savagely without pause, while letting out throaty growls and snarls. In her terror, Roxy didn’t realize
her foot depressed the gas pedal even further, accelerating the vehicle, faster and faster, while trying to stay clear of Ann’s mouth. Still buckled in her seat, Ann hadn’t taken the safety belt off yet, keeping her mouth sheer inches from Roxy. Ann lunged toward Roxy, as far as the seat belt would let her go. Roxy could feel Ann’s warm, sticky breath on her neck and shoulder. She scooted even farther toward the door, flinching with each snap of Ann’s teeth. Using the steering wheel as leverage, she inadvertently jerked it to the right. The vehicle went up onto the curb, both women thrashed to the left. The bumpy grass beneath caused the vehicle to bounce around, before suddenly coming to a violent stop, smashing into a tree.

The airbags deployed on both sides of the vehicle. Dust lingered in the air as Roxy opened her eyes. For a moment, she
felt uncertain of her surroundings. Then she heard it, a deep snarl and jaw chomping coming from her passenger. Her dogs were barking in sync with one another, like an alarm, alerting her to danger.

“Ladies, quiet!” she commanded. They stopped the barking, switching to
low, subtle growls.

Roxy turned toward what
had once been a normal seeming woman, and maneuvered her body beyond Ann’s reach. She slid her hand to the steering column and carefully pulled the keys from the ignition. Quickly reaching down, Roxy pressed the release button on her seat belt. Ann vengefully lunged at her hand, narrowly missing it. She’s quick, Roxy thought. She pulled the metal door lever, popping the door ajar. Being careful not to let it swing out, she held the handle and glanced back at her dogs.

“Stay,” she said calmly as she put her palm up at them. She didn’t want the dogs
to come charging over the seat to get out. That would put them right in biting range for Ann.

Roxy opened the door slowly and stepped out. The dewy grass felt like ice beneath her bare feet. Closing the door gently, with her palm still up facing the pooches, her eyes locked on theirs through the backseat window.

She opened the back door, and her dogs bounded out. Grabbing her boots, shirt and the bat from behind the seat, she closed the door and walked to the back of the vehicle. She tucked the keys into her pocket and opened the hatchback as quietly as possible. Roxy retrieved a duffle bag with two granola bars, bottle of water and a half-full jug of dog treats. Looking up toward the passenger, she could see Ann thrashing in the seat, but making no attempt at exiting the vehicle, seeming more like a caged animal than the woman she met earlier tonight. Roxy pulled her socks out of her boots and slipped on her left sock and boot, then the right. Slipping on her blouse, she closed the hatch gently.

Roxy rounded the vehicle coming up on the passenger side, with her bat in hand and duffle over her shoulder. Still strapped into her seat, Ann
persisted her snarly-toothed fury, slamming her face into the window with such force and agitation, that the dogs at Roxy’s side began to growl at the spectacle.

Roxy deduced that Ann couldn’t seem to free herself from the seatbelt and would likely remain stuck in the car until Roxy and the ladies had left the area. She rounded the front of the vehicle, advancing toward the park. “Come on ladies.”

Striding steadily through the park, she canvassed the area in all directions, weary of her surroundings. The fresh scent of pine trees soon became smothered by the polluted smell of smoke creeping into the park. Dozens of trees of various species and sizes were all around her. A slight shimmer of the moon briefly reflected off the surface of a duck pond to her right, before the moon disappeared behind one of the few clouds across the sky. The scents swirling around were vibrant and distinctive. It may have been the adrenaline, or perhaps the absence of others in the park this evening, but Roxy’s hearing and sense of smell were overwhelmingly potent. The native shrubbery and plants that she’d seen so many times before were now only a blend shadows. She felt a degree of safety traveling with her dogs, although the darkness felt as if it were swallowing her whole.

“A flashlight would be nice,” she said aloud.

They were about forty yards into the sweltering park with no breeze to ease the night’s temperature, when she heard an unnatural rustling ahead. Roxy froze in place. The dogs seemed unalarmed for the moment, stopping as well, looking to her awaiting their next move. Roxy needed to make sure that the ladies didn’t bring any unnecessary attention in their direction.

“Ladies, quiet,” she turned profile to the dogs and held her palm up to them again. She back stepped to the nearest tree, only four large steps away. The ladies followed Roxy obediently, their eyes locked on the palm in the air. She stood behind the tree, peering around it and glancing back at the dogs on her right. They sat patiently looking up at her, until both resolved to lie down. She watched in the direction of the shrubs that lay about fifty feet ahead, where the sound had originated, but there was no sign of a disturbance.

Standing alone, save for the beloved canines at her feet, Roxy made her best attempt at making sense of this situation.
These people must… they must be sick or something. Right?
It would be the only explanation that could make sense to her. Everything happened so fast, she couldn’t imagine how her neighborhood had unraveled so quickly. Peering out in the direction of the disturbance, she felt as if she were losing her sanity.
Did I really hear something over there?
Now, uncertainty crept through her mind. Nothing about this night made any sense to her.

As Roxy placed a shaky foot out from behind the tree, she inhaled through her nose and picked up a scent.
A mixture of cologne or antiperspirant, smoke, and a musky smell that could only belong to a man slithered through the air. As she stepped out from behind her tree, a shadow emerged across the park. The shadow of a massive man began striding straight toward her. She watched cautiously, not knowing what to do. Valuable seconds were passing, as he moved closer. Her heart pounded so hard, she could hear it in her head.
Is he one of them?

“Stay,” she turned to her ladies.

She dropped the duffel and gripped the bat tightly in her hands, swinging it up on her shoulder in a batter’s stance.

“Get back!” she snarled
, channeling a demonic-toned voice that her mother had used when angry. She shot over the most vicious look her face would make, in case he could see it in the darkness.

He stopped suddenly, even took a step back, as if startled. She couldn’t assuredly make out anything but his silhouette, which looked impossibly muscular, like a giant bodybuilder.

“Are you okay? I know you’re not one of them. Have you been bitten?” His voice sounded deep and powerful.

“No. Are you one of…them?” She hesitated, gripping her bat.

“Well, from the one’s I’ve seen, they don’t talk or even have much intelligence. So I would have to say no. I am not one of them. My name is Dave,” his large, brawny arm reached out, his hand inviting a handshake.

“Mine’s Roxy. Do you know what is going on? What’s happening to all these people?” She asked, keeping her distance and ignoring his extended hand.

“Not sure, I think it’s the bites though. I think when someone in bitten by one of them, then they turn into them. At least that’s what I’ve seen so far. What have you seen?” He stood strong and confident.

He tucked his hands inside his pants pockets, and kept his distance. This eased Roxy’s racing mind as to whether to trust him or not. Although he towered over her, his demeanor cast a nonthreatening vibe.

Roxy took a deep breath, as she lowered the bat and decided to explain the events of her evening to this stranger. She hoped that this encounter, with a new acquaintance would end better than the last one.

Boots adjusted his black, straw cowboy hat as he looked to Walker in the passenger seat of the Angora issued SUV. They were in route to a carnival in midtown to find their target, McFarland.
No one had been home at the residence of their target. A prying neighbor had been delighted to let Boots and Walker know where the McFarland family had gone for the evening. After driving to the far edge of the shoreline to McFarland’s residence, they had to turn around to come all the way back to midtown, fighting traffic the entire way. Apparently, everyone tried to avoid the traffic on Dixon, jamming up the rest of the streets. Some were even getting out of their cars and fighting with each other. Many of the main roads they had taken, where either stopped in gridlock or had large crowds clumped together in the streets. There had been a few protests in the last few weeks, in front of City Hall about recent budget cuts, but it seemed that citizens weren’t particular tonight about where they caused disruptions. At the first sign of trouble, Boots turned off those streets and utilized back roads and shortcuts to get to midtown, but it took twice as long as usual to get across town.

“What do you think is going on with these targets?” Walker asked, stuffing their Angora uniforms into a duffel bag and hoisting it over the seat.

“Got me,” sighed Boots. “Maybe these people we’re picking up are really sick, contagious or something. Or maybe they’re throwing their guts up. You know, Mr. Meadows wasn’t really clear. He told us, what he wants us to tell them. That could be a far cry from what’s really going down.”

“Man, that’s not funny. You know I’m no good with blood,” Walker said.

Boots knew how sensitive Walker could be when it comes to blood, and that’s why he threw that part in. He remembered last Halloween. They had been out on a training mission, when Rhino had sliced his hand open. Walker had been laughing and chattering with the other guys and hadn’t seen what had happened. Rhino—being the ornery SOB he always was, walked up to him, shoving his hand in Walker’s face while asking for a bandage. Walker passed out cold. To Walker’s credit, it had been a nasty gash, but not worthy of fainting in Boots’ opinion.

“We’ll checkout this carnival. If all seems right we’ll pick him up, if not, we’ll radio it in,” Boots shrugged his shoulders.

Boots and Walker have been partners on excursions like these for the last year and a half. Their personalities mesh well with one and other. Neither one tries to take the lead. Instead, they both step up when the situation calls for it, as a team.

Boots drove the vehicle through midtown
, wearing a plain, white tee underneath a lightweight, unbuttoned, long sleeved shirt, with black cowboy boots beneath his blue jeans. Short stubble on his face matches the medium length, sandy blonde hair on his head. The gentle creases around his deep, blue eyes and mouth reveal that he is in his late thirties. His body is muscular, with a reddish tan upon his skin. He is in relatively decent shape although he has a bit of a pudgy belly that swells over the top of his jeans.

Walker sat on the passenger side with his elbow on the edge of the door and his head resting upon his fist. He looked down at his baggy jeans and picked at a loose string on the seam of his light blue shirt. He has on a blue hooded, zip-up tee that reads SUBLIMINAL
and matching blue high tops with orange laces. If Walker isn’t in uniform, then he is wearing promotional gear for his brother’s band. He is about the same height as Boots, six-three. But Walker looks much smaller than Boots, as his body is comparatively skinny, having very little muscle and even less fat. His smooth dark, nearly chocolaty skin, contrasts his deep-green eyes.

It had taken them far longer than expected to get through town. The carnival
sprawled across the parking lot of a shopping center called Willow Lake Marketplace, which housed a department store and various other smaller entities on Marshall Boulevard. They pulled into the driveway at the back of the shopping center. Driving along the side of the department store, they could see the bright lights of the carnival up ahead. Half of the parking lot was dedicated to the carnival, while the other side was for carnival parking. Boots parked the truck next to the department store, just behind the carnival area. He wanted to stay low on the radar, in the event of trouble with their target.

“What’s going on here?” Boots asked stepping out of the truck.

“Damn. Riots maybe? You think it’s protesters? Maybe they coordinated a town-wide offensive through social media,” Walker offered.

They walked around to the front of the truck and studied the carnival before them in trepidation. Half of the power to the carnival was out. There were a few people stuck on the Ferris
Wheel screaming for help. Some people were trying to get off the rides themselves, while they were still in the air. There were masses of individuals scattered all over the carnival that looked as if they were fighting with each other. Many people were injured and bleeding. A fire truck and two ambulances were parked on the other side of the carnival. People were all over the emergency vehicles climbing on and hanging off of them. Their vantage point made it near-impossible to catch a decent view of the carnival.

“Boots, we are not going to be able to find McFarland in this rioting, man. People are all bloody over there. We
gotta go,” Walker smacked his hand on the hood of the truck, thumping his leg.

“Radio it in. I’m going to try to get a little closer for a better look,” Boots moved in closer to the carnival, with
a hand near his gun tucked in his waistband.

He rounded the corner of the department store, jogging toward the ticket booth ahead.
With not even a line, it looked abandoned. As he scanned the crowd, his pace slowed to a stop.

The rioters at the carnival weren’t looting or destroying property, but were attacking one another
instead. A group of three women, clawed at a man. Boots stared at the group for a moment. It appeared as though they were kissing him at first. Then he saw blood squirt into the air as they overtook the man to the ground. He scanned to the next group, a man and a woman, backing away from a crowd of six or seven—wearing filthy clothes, making Boots wonder where the group had come from. The man held out what looked like a metal pipe and swung it carelessly at the crowd. The woman crouched behind the man, when two others came up behind them. The first one grabbed the woman and went for her neck. The second went for her arm. The woman wailed in pain as they sunk their teeth into her. As the man turned back to her, the group before him closed in. His pipe sailed through the air as they took him to the ground.

Boots scanned to the next few scenes, grimacing teeth dove down upon the flesh of others. Some would bite down, continuing to bite deeper, while others would rip chunks of flesh from their victims, chewing on it wildly. Blood sprayed and splattered through the air and on the ground. Boots moved his eyes from group to group, person to person seeing the same thing occurring all over the carnival. He tried to think of why these people were doing this, what had happened to them to make the act like beasts?

Walker’s right we’ve got to go.
Boots turned to leave, only to see that two men had circled behind him. Their eyes were black, as if they were wearing solid black contacts and were opened so wide that they appeared almost lidless. The skin on their faces looked loose and saggy, with their black veins visible beneath their pale skin. Drool and blood slowly streamed from the side and front of their open mouths. They made a noise with each breath, like an asthmatic in the midst of an attack. They were both shuffling their feet slowly, closer to Boots. Then, one of them let out a primal roar that echoed throughout the carnival. Startled at the volume of the roar, Boots began to hear more roars and howls coming from behind him. He turned his head to see that some of the carnival attackers were now running full speed toward him.

Boots dodged around the two that shuffled before him and raced back to the truck. There were too many for him to shoot. Quickly gaining speed, as he rounded the corner to the truck, he looked over his shoulder. The
gang of flesh-eaters were only a few feet behind him. Leaning on the hood of the truck, Walker fiddled with his phone, as Boots ran up.

“In the truck now!”
Boots shouted.

“Huh?” Walker looked at Boots, confused.

“Now!” Boots screamed, opening the driver door.

“What’s up?” Walker asked following Boots into the truck.

“I, I don’t know,” Boots said starting the truck. “Roll up your window.”

“Man, tell me what happened,” Walker looked over at Boots.

As Boots put the truck into drive, a group of about eighteen rounded the corner and darted toward the truck.

“What the hell is that?
Whoa, whoa!” Walker yelled as three of the men grabbed on to his open window frame. Thuds could be heard as others had slammed into the side of the truck as it pulled away.

Walker pushed the button to roll up his window
, when a man reached inside and grabbed his tee shirt, ripping the collar. Walker released the window button, grabbing the man’s hand and shoving it off of him. It knocked him and another man off the window. Before Walker could pull his hand back inside, he felt a burning sensation, the last man hanging on had bitten off, a quarter-sized piece of flesh from his hand. Walker yanked his searing hand inside and finished rolling up his window. The third offender let go just before the window sealed.

“Son of a bitch!
That guy bit me, man. I think he took a chunk. And they ripped my shirt! We need to go back and shoot those freaks,” Walker said shaking his hand. He began drawing in deep breaths, his face already looking pale. A piece about the size of a super-ball had been bitten off the outer-side of his palm. Blood hadn’t yet risen to the surface of the exposed tissue, but it would only be a few seconds before that would occur. “What was that all about?”

“I don’t know, but we’ve got to get back to Angora. There is a towel in the bag behind the seat. Wrap your hand up. Just breathe, it’s just a bite on the hand, don’t go passing out on me, Walker.”