Forest Park: A Zombie Novel (9 page)

Ambrose merely shrugged and looked away from him, toward a waiting harness.

“Goddamn it, read my lips then. What is going on here!” the SWAT commander yelled again as the MFR squad leader helped Ambrose with the harnesses straps.

“Relax your arms, Agent Ambrose!”

“Why are you here?” Ambrose asked the MFR Squad Leader.

“When I tap you three times --- be ready,” he answered, ignoring the question.

“Excuse me, I don’t understand?”

The MFR Squad Leader tapped Ambrose three times on his shoulder and Ambrose suddenly shot upwards into the air as the SWAT commander watched on in disbelief.

“I demand to know on whose authority---” the SWAT commander began to say as the MFR Squad Leader marched toward him.

“Your team’s been compromised.”

“Compromised! Don’t be ridiculous!” the SWAT commander said.

“I need you to order your teams from the building.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Once they have exited the building, I’ll need them to relinquish all of their weapons,” the MFR Squad Leader continued.

“Who do you think you are!” said the SWAT commander.

“Will you comply?”

“I asked you, who do you think you are?”

“Will you comply? Last warning,” said the MFR Squad Leader.

“I do not take kindly to threats,” answered the SWAT commander, who was now slowly backing away toward his support team.

“If you don’t comply, I’ll be forced to take measures.”

“I’m not entirely sure what you mean by that, but be aware we do have support units positioned nearby,” the SWAT commander said.

“They have already been neutralized.”

“Neutralized? What do you mean---”

The MFR Squad Leader raised his pistol and shot the SWAT commander in the face.

The crew chief of the Black Hawk slammed the side door shut and attempted to unstrap Ambrose, who knocked him away, and then leaned back into his seat and looked over the skyline of New York. He was surprised to see that the city was now enclosed in a smoky haze.

“What’s going on?” he asked the crew chief as he continued to watch the smoke rise from maybe a dozen or more seemingly out of control fires.

The crew chief tapped his own helmet and pointed to another helmet sitting beside Ambrose.

He couldn’t hear him.

“What’s going on?” Ambrose asked once again after placing the helmet on.

The crew chief shrugged and said, “It started sometime late last night, and from what I’ve heard it’s pretty crazy down there.”

Ambrose felt his cell phone vibrate.

“Son of a bitch,” Ambrose muttered when he saw who was calling.

The crew chief who couldn’t hear anything that was being said once Ambrose had removed his helmet, understood the gist of the conversation by watching his passenger’s body language ebb and flow through a series of short-lived and passionate gestures. The phone call ended with his passenger slumping back into his seat, and looking demoralized.

Ambrose sat motionless for a few moments after the conversation with Harris had ended. Once he replaced his helmet, he snapped at the crew chief, “Get me on a plane to Washington.”

Whatever is happening, it’s happening fast.

As Ambrose reflected on the morning, Harris was being driven in a chauffeured limousine.

Washington was also in the tight grip of a smoky haze.

The opportunity to clean house arrived.

GHOUL TUESDAY

BOOM!

What the fuck!

Steve sat bolt upright in bed --- wide-awake --- Kathy hadn’t moved.

He glanced quickly at his bedside clock; it was 6:45 according to the glowing red numbers.

What the hell was that
? he thought. A gunshot?

Then a moment later, another...

BOOM!

This time, Steve rolled out of bed and fell to the floor with a muffled scream. According to the movies, this seemed the proper course of action --- hit the dirt!

An instant later, the glass of water which sat nightly on his bedside table, fell from the edge and whacked him on the crown. “Fuck!” he screamed. “Kathy! Get on the floor there’s gunshots outside!”

Kathy was still half-asleep when she rolled over on top of Steve’s warm spot.

Opening her eyes, she looked toward the floor and saw Steve as he lay on the ground, soaked with water while she rubbed her eyes with one hand, and scratched her knotted morning hair --- which looked like a bird’s nest --- with the other.

Mumbling, she said, “What?”

“Get on the floor, there’s gunshots outside!”

“Huh? Why are you on the floor again?” she asked Steve as he suddenly reached for her.

Grabbing Kathy by the arm, Steve dragged her from their bed and down on the floor beside him.

“Steve what the fuck do ---”

“Kathy, there are gunshots outside, so we’d better remain low,” Steve answered while he still clutched her arm, his fingers now gripping her even more tightly.

“Christ, my arm; let me go!”

“Oh, sorry,” he said as he released her.

This is crazy
, she thought.

“What’s happening? What gunshots? I haven’t heard anything?” she said in a distinctly irritated tone.

“I don’t know,” Steve answered. “Where the hell have we moved to?”

Kathy didn’t answer him immediately, instead she suddenly got up and walked toward the window and said, “This is ridiculous!”

“What do you think you’re doing? You’ll get yourself killed!”

“Looking, and don’t be so melodramatic.”

“Looking for what?” he asked

“Looking for whatever or whoever put that cracker in your ass.”

Steve sat up. “I wasn’t being melodramatic.”

“You really think?” she said.

After pulling the window drape to one side, Kathy then wedged her nose up against the glass.
I have to clean these windows
, was her initial thought, but upon not seeing anyone or anything even remotely suspicious, she turned to Steve. “I don’t see a thing.”

“Really?” he said as he crawled toward her on his naked belly.

He preferred to sleep naked. He found it less restricting.

“What do you think you’re doing? Get up you idiot,” she said when she saw him crawling across the floor. His fat ass wobbling as he moved from side to side.

She was about to laugh, until she heard police sirens in the distance. BOOM!

“Get down; I think that was a shotgun. A twelve gauge!” Steve said.

“You’ve never heard a real gun fired once in your entire life, it could’ve been a car backfiring. Seriously, why on earth would someone be firing a shotgun? And at this time of the day? It looks a little fresh out there as well, too early for me; the joggers can have it,” she said.

“Does it really matter what time it is, or how cold it is when you’re firing a twelve gauge?” Steve said.

“You don’t even know what that is.”

“I do.”

“Really, you think so?”

“Yeah. You see railroads have to gauge ---”

“You have no idea.”

“I do.”

“X-box doesn’t count,” Kathy said.

Ignoring her, Steve said, “I’m calling 9-11.”

He then crawled over to the phone that was on Kathy’s bedside table.

“You’re not seriously going to call 9-11? How about putting some clothes on first, if you’re going to insist on crawling around with your ass in the air!” she said.

Steve held the phone to his ear, there was no ring tone.

“The phone’s dead,” Steve said.

“Use the cell, if you really have to call 9-11,” Kathy said, and then continued, “Cancel that, don’t use the cell, you’re acting like an idiot.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s in the kitchen, but if I were you, I’d be more concerned about putting some pants on. Otherwise I’ll call 9-11 and report you as a sex pest.”

“Where exactly is it?” he asked, speaking to her from the kitchen

“It’s in my handbag. However, if you’re going to call anyone, call the phone company about the phone line not working. They only just installed a new switch.”

“Yeah, sure...”

A few minutes later Steve came back into the room, still naked, with the cell pressed to his ear.

“What did they say?” Kathy asked him as she waved some underpants in his face.

“Hang on.”

“It’s probably too early, try again later. What is the time anyway?”

“Nobody is answering 9-11,” he said, “the phone lines tied up or something. All I can get is a recorded message saying that the emergency services are doing all they can, stay with us, blah, blah, blah, regular service will, da, da, da and leave a fucking message.”

Steve took the phone from his ear and said to Kathy, “That’s fucking great. What’s next? Tweet us if you’re being murdered?”

Kathy laughed as she dangled his underpants in front of his eyes. “Please put these on.”

A LITTLE LATER

Kathy sat on the end of their bed while Steve was unhurriedly getting dressed, and listened to the wailing of emergency sirens from outside.

Sirens, nothing but sirens
, she thought as her mind now began tuning into Steve’s fears. She didn’t want to admit it, but maybe Steve was correct. Something didn’t seem right after the morning’s strange twist. Looking out of the window once more, she saw that even the morning birds, which ordinarily inhabited the old oak in the front yard, appeared to have deserted them.

When Steve had finished dressing, he turned to Kathy. “I’m going outside for a look.”

“The hell you are,” she said.

“I’ll only be a minute. I was thinking that you’re probably right, maybe it’s nothing. I’m over reacting?”

“Well, I’m swinging to your way of thinking now. If you’re going outside, I’m going too,” Kathy said.
He won’t go, if I go
, she thought.

“It might not be safe though.”

“Then don’t go out there!”

Suddenly, they both began to hear an emergency siren getting closer while still being a distance away.

“About fucking time!” Steve said. “Someone must have gotten through.”

The sound of the siren was becoming gradually louder.

“You’re not going out there without me.”

“Do we have to do this now?”

“No,” she said, “we can do it out there on the street, if you really want!”

Steve raised both his hands into the air as if he were surrendering. “Okay, we both go, stay beside me.”

It didn’t take too long before they saw a Forest Park police cruiser enter their street. The cruiser dramatically slowed as it neared them both. The police officer behind the cruiser’s wheel gave Steve and Kathy a thorough stare, while the couple heard his radio going crazy in the background.

He turned the cruiser’s radio down.

“I’d advise you folks to head on back inside,” the police officer said as he leaned across the passenger seat in their direction.

“My husband and I may have heard some gunshots,” Kathy said.

“Yeah,” Steve added.

The police officer acknowledged Kathy. “I know, ma’am, that seems to be the trend around town this morning, and I don’t have any time to explain before you ask. Now, please go back inside your house and remain indoors, even if your family and friends ask you otherwise,” he said.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked.

“I told you I didn’t have time to explain. Now do yourself a favor and go back inside. You might also want to consider turning your television on too,” he said.

“Is there a siege?” Steve asked.

“Don’t have time, sir.”

“Are they showing whatever is happening on live television? Which street is it on, I’ll Google Earth it,” Steve said.

“We don’t watch much television,” Kathy added.

“You might want to watch some now. Any channel will do,” the police officer answered.

“Is it like some kind of religious thing?” Steve asked.

“I have to leave,” the police officer said as his cruiser started to roll forward.

“We only just bought here; does this sort of thing happen all the time?” Steve asked the police officer who was clearly becoming annoyed.

“Go inside, and turn on your television. I can’t promise I’ll come down this way again today,” he said as the cruiser continued to roll forward.

“What about the gunshots then?” Steve asked.

“Get used to them,” the police officer replied moments before speeding away.

“Well this is awesome…” Steve said as the cruiser headed in the direction of Main Street.

“Let’s just do what he says, Steve,” Kathy said. She felt scared; Michael Myers standing in your living room scared.

“What a joke! Why did he even bother stopping?”

Kathy didn’t answer him --- he was only venting.

Steve looked up and down the street one final time before heading inside. In the distance, he saw someone who lived on his street running out to the road and trying to wave the police cruiser down. However, this time the police cruiser only slowed for a few moments before driving away, leaving the man standing in the middle of the road.

“That’s community policing for you,” Steve said.

“Can we just go inside?”

“Why didn’t he stop?”

“I don’t know, Steve, why is the sky blue?” Kathy said. “Something’s terribly wrong, I can feel it.”

Steve was about to respond to what she had said; he then suddenly decided not to. Instead, he answered, “You know, maybe we should go inside.”

A NEW WORLD

Kathy handed Steve a freshly brewed mug of coffee and sat down beside him without saying a word.

“Thanks,” he said to her, he then took a sip. “Just what I needed.”

“Anytime,” she replied as Steve switched on the television to show a pretty young blonde anchorwoman interviewing a small, slender and almost hairless man with a rather serious beak for a nose, which Steve found amusing.

“What’s so funny?” Kathy asked.

“He’s the doppelgänger of Montgomery Burns, don’t you think?”

“Grow up, why don’t you.”

The man on the television was Doctor Denison, the former director of the CDC (Centre for Disease Control, Atlanta) and a well-considered expert in the new field of Bio-Terrorism and Control-Prevention.