Forest Park: A Zombie Novel (10 page)

“I swear it’s his twin.”

“Will you please shut up, I can’t hear a thing they’re saying,” Kathy said.

“…man was arrested in London. It’s hysteria, plain and simple, and to accuse any religious or cultural group based on rumors, will only lead to violence against the American Islamic community,” Doctor Denison said.

“But you can’t rule out a terrorist attack?”

“I’m not ruling anything out; I’m only saying it’s too early to draw such conclusions and to attribute blame, which is the sole purpose behind this hysteria. I would rather we concentrated on the flu that seems to herald the violence we have already discussed, and not concentrate on the hysterical, and racist ramblings of the far right. As Americans we should be better than that.”

“Did you want anything for breakfast, cereal?”

“I might have something later. Coffee’s nice, though,” Steve answered.

“Thanks.”

“If this is a terrorist biological attack, Doctor Denison, what would be the Federal government’s game plan?” Tanya asked.

“Game plan?”

“I’m asking how the Federal government would react.”

“Before I answer this question, I want to make clear that the Federal government has not confirmed that this is a terrorist-related matter. The last thing the public need is any form of alarmist discussion,” he said.

“But the Federal government has not fully denied the possibility that it isn’t one.”

“You will have to take that up with them” he said, “but to answer your question; terrorist attacks come in two forms, “Announced” and “Unannounced.” After an attack, basic step by step procedures are followed, ideally once law enforcement becomes aware that an attack has taken place, the Federal Bureau of Investigation is informed straightaway, along with local and state public health authorities. This will be almost immediate.”

“How swift is immediate?” Tanya asked, smiling.

“About four hours in total, and this includes from the first report of an event, to the delivery of the potential bio-weapon to a secure laboratory, which would commonly be a university campus located close by.”

“But what about the CDC here in Atlanta?” Tanya asked.

“The CDC would be ideal, but sometimes, time and the threat doesn’t account for geographical locations. However, as soon as it becomes possible, we transfer the threat to the CDC.”

“So the CDC isn’t always the principal choice to investigate threats. I’m sure that would be a surprise to many of our viewers.”

“It’s a common misconception,” said Doctor Denison.

“Well, I’m surprised,” Kathy said.

“I didn’t know we even had a CDC, is that near the aquarium?” asked Steve.

“I don’t know,” Kathy replied.

“We should go to the aquarium someday…” Steve said after some more pondering.

“…Emergency Laboratories are separated into three branches,” Doctor Denison continued, “National, Reference and Sentinel. The laboratories of the CDC and the US Army Medical Research Institutes for Infectious Diseases at Ft. Detrick are all considered National Labs, whereas reference laboratories would include all local public health, military and veterinary clinics.”

“I didn’t know they did people things at the animal doctors,” Steve said.

“We could double the data size of Wikipedia with what you don’t know,” Kathy said, struggling to keep a straight face as she did.

“The third is Sentinel laboratories, which comprise of hundreds of private, commercial and hospital laboratories. These remain the most effective at noticing anything unusual, specifically hospital-based laboratories. However, with the spread of this flu and the violence, that has accompanied its arrival; I dare say that some hospitals in certain hotspots have been too overwhelmed to cope with any major investigations into a viral outbreak. Nonetheless, we’re hoping that in the very near future that the lethality of this virus mutates to become a less dangerous strand.”

“How long could something like that take?” asked Tanya.

“I couldn’t answer that question accurately. It could be within two hours that a mutation could appear, or it could be in two years. The important thing is we have the facilities and the people to deal with the situation once the initial panic dies down. At least for now, stay clear of any flu victims...”

“Wow, this a bit freaky,” Steve said.

“You don’t say,” answered Kathy as someone suddenly knocked at their door.

“It’s my wife. She needs help!” the doorknocker yelled and then doubled over with a series of rasping coughs.

Steve and Kathy looked at each other.

“Help me! My wife, she’s sick! I know you’re in there. I saw you outside!”

“Shit!” Steve said.

FOREST PARK

HENDRIX DRIVE ELEMENTARY

THE CARPARK

Susan screamed into her cell phone.

“That fucking bitch! She gets the anchor’s chair because I’m all the way out here in the middle of fucking nowhere, and now you tell me that you’re cutting my story. The fucking reason why I’m out here in the middle of fucking nowhere… there is no way I’m staying out here to cover a small-town perspective, let me come back to Atlanta…” Charlie overheard as he wandered to the rear of the WolfPac with breakfast for both Susan and himself.

He sat down on the WolfPac’s tailgate and took a large bite from a deep-fried bacon and egg roll; the bacon was crunchy and salty.
This is the last thing I should have for breakfast
; he thought,
not if I want to ask her out. This is the year of change. The flab has to go
…

After a few more mouthfuls, the greasy roll was nothing but crumbs, so he unwrapped the second one he’d bought --- just in case he was still hungry --- while Susan continued to rant and rave into her cell. As he watched Susan walk and talk, Charlie knew, it would be useless to offer her any advice; Susan always did as she wanted, as she had unfailingly done. In a few minutes, the other roll was gone, and he was licking his fingertips. Then he popped open a Sunkist and began to wash it all down.

“Fort Gillem; Jesus, Paul!” Susan said while another police cruiser raced by, its lights flashing, followed by paramedics.

An annoying little voice in the back of Charlie’s mind began to say,
How many cop cars would that make today?

“I’m not saying a damn thing though…” Charlie said to himself.

“You’ll have to speak up, Paul. I can’t hear you!” Susan said, shouting into her cell phone.

Charlie took another mouthful of Sunkist.

“You’re joking. What kind of excuse is that, Paul, why don’t you just come out and admit that you’re fucking her? Try being honest for once in your life, who knows you might even get to fucking like it?”

Charlie stood up and walked around to the far side of the Wolfpac. He had to move away before he started to laugh, and then he saw something that caught his eye. Man, that dude looks plastered; Charlie thought as he watched a lone figure stagger down Main Street, slowly zigzagging his way toward the twenty-four-hour diner.

The drunk-looking dude wore a white shirt and red tie. It looks like a tie. Who cares? Charlie thought as he took another large slurping swallow of Sunkist and examined the stranger who ambled along, taking two steps forward and then one step back.

“Man, this dude is whacked.”

Charlie snickered as the man tripped and brushed against a store window, leaving a red smear…

Blood, is that blood? Nah couldn’t be.

Charlie’s eyes squinted, and he leaned forward a little, even though it made no difference.

Yeah, that’s blood, he’s smearing blood everywhere and that’s no tie!

“Shit,” he said.

In the background, Charlie could hear Susan still raging, but her voice was beginning to become more distant as he deliberated about what he should do.

“You don’t know what I mean? You’re really one-of-a-kind!” Susan said as Charlie (decision made) rushed to open the back door to the Wolfpac and take out his camera.

“Charlie, be ready to go live,” Susan said unexpectedly from behind Charlie’s shoulder.

“What about Paul?” Charlie asked.

“Fuck Paul; I think it’s time I shopped around.”

“Do you think that’s wise in this economy?” Charlie said as the bleeding man entered the diner.

“Why, are you going to miss me, Fat-boy?” replied Susan as she vied ahead to get in front of the camera.

Charlie shrugged. “I only want what’s best,” he finally said.

THE DOOR

Steve and Kathy had no idea what to do.

“Please help me,” the man said. “I only need to use your phone for a minute. My phone isn’t working. You have to help me! My wife, she’s really hurt…”

Steve raised his index finger to his lips. “Shhh.”

“I know you’re home. I can hear your television!” the man outside persisted.

There were more coughs, they sounded deep and painful.

“I’m not sick…”

Steve looked into Kathy’s eyes and saw a petrified expression wash across her face.

What if he was the man with the gun? What if he has that flu?
It sounds like he has
, Steve thought. I can’t take the risk.

“I want to help him, but we can’t,” Steve whispered to Kathy.

“I know…” Kathy said as she reached out and grasped Steve’s hand.

“What is wrong with you people? I’m not sick. I’m not one of these sick-o biters either…”

He sounded like a lunatic, totally hysterical.

“Biters?” Steve said to Kathy.

Kathy shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Then, suddenly he was gone.

“Where did go?” Steve asked.

Moments later, from across the other side of the street they both heard yelling again.

“Maybe we should have done something?”

“Like what?” Kathy said as they both heard a blood-curdling scream.

It came from the television.

LIVE TV

The camera was focused on the entry of a small-town diner, as a woman who was already bleeding, ran screaming toward two glass doors at a break-neck speed. Both Steve and Kathy gasped as the woman, running in panic, tripped and fell forward, slamming her face into one of the glass doors, fracturing the glass in a spider web pattern.

“Oh, my God!” Kathy said as the woman’s face slid down the fractured door, depositing a thick red stream of blood across the shattered glass. Was her ear missing? Nah! They don’t allow that kind of shit on morning television, not with kids watching, not in the south...

“Was her ear missing?” asked Steve.

Kathy shook her head from side to side.

“Seriously, I swear that before she slammed into those doors that her ear was missing.”

“Nah, they wouldn’t show that sort of stuff on morning television,” Kathy answered him as she continued to watch.

Then from behind the fallen woman came a man, he walked slowly toward her.

He was wearing what appeared to be a red vest and a white shirt, but Kathy was unsure. As he came near the unconscious woman, he crouched down to one knee.

The camera zoomed in closer, tighter --- and then… “Oh, fuck no…” Steve said as he spilled his coffee and Kathy threw up in her mouth. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “No, fucking way!” He didn’t just do that.

The man who wore the white shirt and red vest, Kathy was still unsure --- but damn near unable to watch --- grabbed the unconscious women by the roots of her hair.

He lifted her face toward his.

He opened his mouth and bit the side of her face?

“What in hell is going on?” Steve said. This has to be unprecedented on morning television, he then thought.

He stood up and stumbled toward the picture window that overlooked the street; he couldn’t watch the television any more.

This is insane
, he thought as he now focused on watching the coughing guy across the street relentlessly beat the shit out of his neighbor’s door.

“The world’s gone mad; from the moment I woke up this morning…”

Kathy sat on the couch and scrutinized the man in the white shirt, whose entire face was now smothered in blood. The spectacle was hypnotizing, as he acted and looked like a wild animal.

The bloodied man stared directly at the camera as he chewed on a piece of flesh as if it were bubble gum.
Absolutely mesmerizing,
Kathy thought. He was like nothing else, dark and evil and for the first time in Kathy’s life, she felt like prey as the thing glared at her through the camera lens.

“How is this possible, Kathy?” Steve said.

“I have no idea, “Kathy answered him, “but we might be in trouble, Steve.”

The bloodied man stepped toward the camera.

“Fuck this!” Charlie said as he dropped his camera and ran toward the Wolfpac.

A bloodied shoe stepped into view of the abandoned camera, followed by a bare and trembling foot missing its own shoe.

Steve, standing by the window, heard the cameraman say, ‘fuck this’ --- or something like that, as he continued to watch the coughing guy across the street plead with his neighbor’s door.

The man was persistent if anything, and desperate.

Steve believed he knew what the guy would be saying. “Let me in, help me my wife, she’s hurt.”

I should have helped him, thought Steve. I should have helped him. I didn’t know what biters were. Oh, Jesus, there must have been something I could have done. I could have made the call for help. I could have dialed while he waited, but the lines were down, he supposed as the unfolding melodrama across the street continued to play out.

The door across the street opened and someone stepped out. Someone covered in blood?

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Steve said to himself as he strained to put into real context what he was witnessing a few hundred yards from where he lived.

“Kathy, you have to see this.”

Craig, Steve’s new neighbor (they hadn’t met, but Kathy had run across Craig’s wife, Kat, the weekend before), violently lurched forward and threw himself out of his doorway and directly into the door knocker.

“Shit!” Steve said when he saw Craig take a great chunk of flesh from the coughing guy’s neck. A fountain of blood shot into the air, splattering Craig’s architecturally designed entry.