Infection: Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (19 page)

There was at least a fleeting sense of security up off the ground. The comfort was at least enough for them to collect themselves. It was anything but rest; in fact, she felt more tired now than she did before. Her adrenaline had faded from her blood stream and her fatigue was beginning to blunt her senses.

As she stared, she noticed that the boards comprising the ceiling were damp with moisture. At about the same moment, she registered the fact that her exhaled breath was forming a warm, misty cloud immediately in front of her face.

She tried to wrap herself tighter into the very limited warmth of the threadbare blanket that had previously served as a floor cover of sorts in the tree house. As cold as she felt, she just knew that it would be unbearable without the minimal warmth the blanket provided.

The moment, despite the cold, was almost serene; provided, of course, that she forgot about the fact that she could possibly be in the midst of Armageddon on a truly Biblical scale.

Quietly, almost silently, tears again pooled in her eyes and rolled down the sides of her face. She wasn’t sure why she was crying again. At first, other than the tightness in her chest, she wasn’t even certain that she was crying. And when she did understand and accept that she was surrendering to her emotions, she realized that there wasn’t a shortage of things about which she could cry.

She didn’t fight the tears, fearing it would only lead to the inevitable sobbing. She didn’t want any attention, regardless of how well meaning it would be. Maybe one good cry in the morning would suffice for the entire day.

Dr. Caldwell, lying next to her and sharing the blanket, stirred slightly and began to breathe in short, shallow breaths. Another nightmare she figured. At one point during the night, he was almost whimpering. She wondered to herself if his nightmare even came close to comparing with the hell they had been enduring for the past two days.

Emma looked more closely at the man who was, for all intents and purposes, sharing a bed with her. He had a kind, knowing face with shallow lines of experience cut into the skin near his eyes. His hair was a patchy salt and pepper, primarily comprised of pepper. The dark hair growing in on his cheeks, chin, and neck was even and had the appearance of having been manicured, though she realized that it couldn’t have been.

She placed her hand lightly on his shoulder to comfort him without waking him. She made a motion to lie her head back down and snuggle closer against the doctor when she felt the unmistakable sensation that she was being watched. The feeling slithered up her spine like a cold serpent. She looked up and saw Officer Malachi Ivanoff looking directly at her.

Trying to ignore him and act as if she hadn’t noticed his staring, she cautiously watched him from the corner of her eyes. At first what she thought she was seeing was anger or possibly betrayal but then, looking through her bangs, she could have sworn that his eyes were actually filled with hunger or possibly lust. As a woman, she had seen that leer in the eyes of men at bars and parties, after alcohol had started the blunting effect on their better judgment. Perhaps she was just imagining it, but she was utterly unsettled by it.

She laid her head back down but didn’t dare close her eyes. She waited a few seconds, trying to control her breathing. Feigning adjusting her position to find the elusive comfort on the bare planks of the floor, she chanced a glance over the doctor’s neck. The officer was apparently asleep again. Maybe he’d been asleep all along and she was just imagining it, but she couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling.

No rest for the weary...

Anchorage was quiet; as quiet as the grave. There was no longer any shooting. There were no longer any echoing screams followed by the rush of desperate footsteps. An uneasy peace had settled over the city.

That’s not to say that there was no activity within the city’s limits. A group of nine of the fiends, separated from the majority of the seemingly aimless specters wandering the city, was meandering in a dead end residential housing court, one way in and one way out on the road. The miserable cold and grey sky very nearly perfectly matched the demons’ skin. Once seething and glimmering red, the horrible wounds that had claimed the lives of the human beings that once inhabited the same skin were now soft and brown and malodorous. If the things wore clothing, most of it was in tattered rags; the remnants of a tie and a sport coat, the last clinging strips of a pink velour exercise suit, brown Carhart coveralls stained a deep rust from top to bottom.

Their limbs and heads seemingly rippled with an electric current that pulsed through them as regular as a heartbeat. Every movement they made, however small, carried with it a slight tremble, like coiled springs trying in vain to contain their suppressed but eager energy.

They were searching...searching for the one thing that called to them...searching for their own Sirens. Their heightened predatory senses told them that there was prey near. In their own stiff, jerky way, each of them raised a nose every few steps. The intoxicating scent of meat...of soft, salty flesh and firm, aromatic blood basted muscle and the delicate, bitter sweetness of the delicious organs...all of it called to them...bade them to wait and to hunger.

“Are they still out there?”

Jerry peeked through the edge of the curtains, nodded and sighed.

Neil felt the same way and there was no denying it. He wished he could be more confident, at least outwardly so, or able to mask his disappointment in front of Meghan. He just wasn’t a hero, at least in the classic sense of the term. He wasn’t capable of being perpetually upbeat and positive. He didn’t have superhuman strength, extra sensory perception, and he wasn’t a genius. Many people would refer to him as broken or damaged. He wouldn’t necessarily agree with that quick assessment. He would probably argue that he was just not interested anymore. That was probably the main reason why he hadn’t ever spoken to the beautiful Lani in his building. He just wanted to avoid the disappointment and the heartache that caring about something, about another person, or about himself would ultimately bring.

He wasn’t a pessimist for the simple reason that it required more effort than he was willing to put forth. His expectation about life had just been irretrievably altered since his divorce.

He became aware of a low but steady hum that tickled the air with its sound vibrations. The noise was annoying and impossible to ignore.

“What is that noise? Can everyone hear it or is it just me?”

Tony stood up and walked back into the dining room. “No, we can all hear it alright and it’s starting to get on my nerves.”

“I think that the hum has been there all along,” Jerry said, “but there needed to be enough of them there for us to hear them.”

“How many now?”

“Nine, and I think there are some more coming this direction from the road.”

Tony turned as he made his way down the narrow kitchen and asked, “Now there are nine?”

“Yeah, and more coming. I think the moaning is working as a kind of beacon for others.”

Rachel reeled back in her recliner and asked, “What the fuck did you just say? Sorry kids.”

Meghan answered, “It’s okay. They’re back in the bedroom sleeping.”

“Okay, then what the fuck did you just say?”

As usual, Jerry hesitated before he began. It was just difficult for him to commit himself to anything. Sticking his neck out in the past had gotten him nothing but trouble. And he wasn’t an expert. Just because he’d played some games, watched some movies, and read some books didn’t mean that he was some fucking Dr. Van Helsing of zombies. He was just a kid and wanted to go back to that. He always did. He missed not having to make decisions, or at least not having to be held terribly accountable for those decisions.

“I’m guessing that the noise has been there all along,” he said. “It was probably just subsonic because there weren’t enough of them yet. Or maybe it’s because the city is quieter. Whatever. It doesn’t really resemble a sound that I could place. It’s not really a sound at all. It’s more like a vibration than it is a sound. Can everyone else feel it?”

Meghan nodded her head, “Yeah, I think you’re right. It’s actually nauseating me a little.” She leaned toward Neil and rested against him. Tentatively, he raised his hand and wrapped it around her shoulders. She nestled into him in search of comfort.

“Well,” Jerry continued, “the vibrations were probably always there, it just took more of them to become powerful enough for our ears to detect it.”

Tony asked, already suspecting the answer, “Our ears? Aren’t they just us?”

“Yeah, but they died and came back and all the result of some kind of virus or some other highly transmittable organism. Who knows what all changes took place as a result of the infection? I think it is safe to assume that their senses are probably heightened.”

Kim, coming from the dining room where she had been a silent observer of the conversation thus far, asked, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, they’re predators now in a more primal and animalistic sense. They’re hunters and hunter species have long relied on their senses to detect, track, and ultimately kill their prey.”

“Us,” Meghan said soberly.

Neil asked the room, “What are we gonna do?”

Rachel, virtually melted to the fabric of her recliner so far she was sunken into the chair, answered, “Why the hell are you asking us? You’re the guy who’s had the answers all along. You tell us. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know for sure, Rachel. I’m new at this too. I guess for the time being we just wait and see. We can afford to stall and not rush into things. Maybe time will work to our advantage.”

“And what do you mean by that?”

Looking up at him and smiling, Meghan asked, “Yeah, what’s runnin’ through that head of yours?”

Neil guided Meghan back into a standing position and stepped away for a second. “These things. They’re just dead bodies, right? Well, dead bodies rot. They decompose. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust. Maybe as that starts to happen, these things will start to slow down or give us some other sort of advantage. Maybe as their muscle tissue becomes tighter with water loss they’ll slow down…start acting like the zombies in the Romero movies. They were slow and usually overwhelmed victims through sheer numbers.”

Jerry interjected, “Yeah, you may be right. I guess I
hope
you’re right. I wonder how long until desiccation begins to take its toll. Do you think that their...um...feeding impacts the process?”

Rachel interrupted the discussion with a very direct, “What the fuck does it matter? You’re not gettin’ my ass back out there. And if the rest of you are smart, you’d just stay hidden too.”

She started to cry, which forced her words out in sputtering starts and stops. “I mean...does...does...any of...th-th-that even matter? Is...is this Armageddon?” The last word spilled from her lips and made its way through the room like a shadow, darkening as it crept.

She looked up from the floor and let the tears course down her cheeks. Her eyes were swollen and her cheeks were red and splotchy. She looked at Neil and asked, “Is this really the end of the world like in The Bible?”

To hear a question like that, one typically had to be walking in downtown San Francisco or some other larger than life metropolis, and the asker would be wearing a large cardboard sign written in scrawled marker with a date for the end of the world. It wasn’t a question that normally arose in casual conversation. Neil had read a story a long time ago in which everyone on Earth knew that the end of the world was happening that night after everyone was asleep. Even with that knowledge, the entire population simply went to sleep like normal, to never wake again. That was really the first time he had truly contemplated the end of existence. He read the story in a college class. The discussion that followed culminated in an examination of what each of them would do today if they knew that tomorrow would never come.

And now here it was; a very real possibility that he was living that exact scenario.
Ain’t life a bitch?
he thought to himself.
I’ve actually met someone that it feels natural to connect with so well, so quickly, and time has run out.
He looked at Meghan. He knew that everyone in the room was looking at him again, but he didn’t care. He needed to know if he was just imagining the energy between them. Maybe he was just creating the illusion to comfort his mind. When he looked in her eyes though, he realized it didn’t really matter because she was looking at him and her eyes were kind and warm and comfortable.

If it was the end of the world, he couldn’t think of a better feeling to have when it all shook down. He didn’t feel the need to answer Rachel immediately. He did, however, look away from Meghan and felt better than he had in a long time.

Meghan looked over at Rachel and said, “I’m not necessarily saying that I even believe in that line of thinking, but, regardless, I’m not goin’ down without a fight. Don’t expect me to pray for salvation and ditch on this world. I say let’s figure a way outta this. If we wait, then we wait. And if we need to figure out when and how to boogey, well I’m down with that too. We just all need to keep talkin’ and thinkin’ and watchin’ out for one another.”