Epidemic of the Undead: A Zombie Novel (26 page)

Rubbing Chris on the elbow, Stephanie said. “No, don’t apologize for that. If anything it should be me doing the apologizing. I know how you feel, Chris. I have the entire time. Nan pulled me aside the first day that we got here and talked to me about you.”

“Really?”   

Stephanie blushed.

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter what she said. What matters is that I care about you.” Chris pulled her into his arms. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. And I am going to make sure that it stays that way. I…I love you.” He leaned in, lips puckered.

She didn’t resist. His heart clenched tight with anticipation. He was afraid she would just freak out, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned in as well. Pure satisfaction and all loneliness that Chris had ever had in his life disappeared like a fleeting memory in that single moment.

The kiss didn’t last long enough; Chris wanted more. Maybe this was what Father Garcia Clark had meant. He wasn’t totally sure what it meant, but he definitely felt like that refined diamond with Stephanie in his arms. He felt complete; like a winner. The last week of trials and tribulations had finally turned him into the man that he needed to be. He wondered if it was the new Chris that Stephanie was attracted to. It didn’t matter; none of it did. The last thing Chris wanted to do was over think everything. At least, he finally had the girl. And of all things, she was everything but a smoking scene slut from the shows. He sighed in relief, having never thought that this day would ever come.

He had the girl and he had survived.

Now she just needed to meet his parents.

Looking down at her into those beautiful bright blue eyes, he waited for her to speak first, not wanting to ruin the moment with his clumsy mouth. What she said first wasn’t what he expected.

“You feel really cold, Chris. Are you okay?” She pulled away to get a better look at him.

He felt awfully sick; there was no denying it. In fact, he was even feeling lightheaded. “Nah… I’m fine. Just need some real sleep. It’s been a really tough night, you know.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “It has been a tough night. If you want to lie down for a bit, I’ll go let Steve know. I think we could all use some sleep.”

“I know I need it. I’m fine with laying down right here behind the A/C-thing if you are.”

She nodded, and then walked away to tell Steve that they were going to try to get some rest.

Standing alone behind the large rooftop window unit, Chris became very dizzy. Trying to maintain his footing, Chris sat down on the gravel-covered roof. Leaned against the ledge, he closed his eyes. It was then that he suddenly felt something wet run down his lip. After wiping it away, he looked down at his hand. It came away red. His nose was bleeding.

What the fuck?

His stomach started to cramp.

*     *     *

Chris suddenly awoke to the sound of rushing waves. The rooftop gravel kicked up in a violent storm of roaring winds.

“We’re saved!” Someone shouted.

Chris had passed out and he wasn’t sure how long he had been out. His head was throbbing with pain and his joints felt stiff. He wanted to vomit. Maybe that would make him feel better. Standing to his feet, he had to grab the ledge to stand. Slowly, he made his way around the large industrial sized air conditioning unit and found everyone huddled together. As they looked to the sky, their clothes and hair danced in the wind.

A helicopter was trying to land on the roof!

Chris looked up in surprise. The National Guard had come.

“Chris…Chris…They came!”

Chris looked out at the rooftop to see Stephanie running toward him. She was overwhelmed with joy. Steve and Stephanie ran up to Chris’ side.

Steve said, “Dude, they’re going to land!”

Chris’ eyes grew wide as he looked into the sky. Trying to focus with blurred vision and angst, he caught sight of the flying craft. The helicopter was still relatively high in the air making its descent. The lower it came, the louder its propeller blades became, drowning out all other sounds.

Chris looked on, the hope of finding his parents becoming very real in his heart.

“Clear the landing area so that we can put ‘er down,” an amplified voice from the helicopter instructed.

Chris looked up to see a man, dressed in black, leaning out of the helicopter, while shouting into a bullhorn.

His voice cracked with the amplification. “Stand clear,” he said, as the chopper made its descent.

“Dude, we’re totally getting the hell out of here. Soon as we do, we are going to Tennessee!” Steve grabbed Chris by the shoulder as he shouted with enthusiasm.

Chris struggled to keep his balance amid the heavy winds. He felt weak and tired. Trying to hide it, Chris smiled.

After the helicopter’s dramatic landing and the chopper blades turned off, several military personnel and National Guard officers stepped out onto the roof. They were all dressed in black attire; each wielding what Chis believed to be M16’s. There was no real way to tell. Chris was never a gun person, at least not until recently. Regardless of what type of guns they were, seeing them brought Chris an overwhelming sense of relief.

They were saved.

“I need everyone’s attention,” the military man said. His stance was stiff, his demeanor bold and brave. He commanded the roof’s attention like a born leader. “My name is Lieutenant Robert Foster.”

The Lieutenant continued what seemed to be his practiced speech. All of the Catholic School survivors were huddled together at the ledge furthest from the locked double doors. With the helicopter practically centered on the roof, Lieutenant Robert Forster stood before it with confidence. He explained the situation to a degree. He quickly notified everyone that they were to be transported to a safe haven about seventy-five miles from their current location. It was very apparent that there would need to be more than one trip made. There was no way the chopper would hold everyone. Foster explained that with the number of survivors, it would take at least three trips to get everyone out. Before loading up the first group and taking off, the lieutenant took down names, did a head count, and assessed energy levels among other things.

Chris assumed that they would take all of the women and older people first. He had been right and at this point could care less if he was on the last ride out. At least he was getting the hell out. Stephanie opted out of the first flight choosing to stick with her new friends. It only took fifteen minutes for the National Guard to explain the situation and load up the first group. They were up and in the air in no time. With the sun rose well above the trees, Chris guessed that it had to be something like nine in the morning. It was crazy how fast you could lose track of time without a cellphone. Chris thought of his belongings in the courtyard. He didn’t need them that bad. The dead could keep it all.

With Steve on one side and Stephanie on the other, they watched the helicopter disappear over the tree line and head toward the rising sun. It would only be a while longer before they came back for another round up of survivors.   

“I can’t believe we’re actually getting out of here.” Stephanie wrapped her arm around Chris.

“I know, this is awesome. Going to be a new man after all of this.” Steve did the same, wrapping his arm around Chris, too.

Chris didn’t reply. The three of them just stood looking out at the sky. The sun danced between the clouds. Rays of light beamed out like the heavens reaching down from above. It was surreal and invigorating to see life in a new light, a new hope. As Steve and Stephanie stood with their arms around Chris, they were unaware that Chris had closed his eyes. He had stopped breathing. The dried blood on his face had completed its job. The undead ghoul that had coughed blood from its torn throat was all that Chris needed. He hadn’t looked away, closed his eyes, or his mouth when it had happened. The undead blood had gotten into his system.

Chris’ heart stopped.  

“I love the two of you, you know that?” Steve batted Chris on the back.

Chris slumped forward on the ledge limp.

“Shit, man. I know he said he was tired, but come on…” Steve knelt down to lift Chris off of the gravel-covered roof.

Chris’ eyes opened wide. With a milky white glare of hunger in his gaze, Chris lunged forward.

Chris Commons wasn’t a winner after all.

About the Author

P. A. Douglas
is the author of several survival horror novels, novellas, and short stories including
Watchers, Rancid,
and
Horror Stories and Terrifying Tales
. His work has been praised by several well-known authors and has appeared in
Fangoria Magazine
. He is also a nationally touring singer-songwriter, under the name:
The Cries Of
. With more than a dozen music related releases and countless national tours, he has recently decided to give away all of his music for free as digital downloads. Douglas lives in South East Texas. You can communicate with him online at:
www.indie-inside.com
or follow him at:
www.twitter.com/indie_inside