The Gorging (15 page)

As Sampson drove down Main Street headed for Post 31 to look for Sergeant Anderson and Sheriff Johnson he looked around at the madness that was unfolding in the small town. Crashed vehicles were scattered across the streets that he had to drive around to keep going. There were mutilated and disemboweled bodies lying in the roads, in parking lots, inside of fast food restaurants that he could see into as he drove by. There were people fighting against others that looked to be the crazy ones with blood running down their faces and fronts of their shirts. Sampson took his eye off the road for a moment, as he watched a girl, no more than ten years old, raise up from a woman, probably her mother, holding the woman’s guts in her hands and trying to shove them into her mouth. Sampson kept watching until he felt and heard a loud thump on the front of his car. He looked forward just in time to see the face of a woman as she was pulled underneath the car. The car bounced as it went over the woman’s body with both of the driver’s side wheels. Sampson’s whole body seemed to turn to goose bumps as he looked in the rearview mirror to see if he killed the woman. He knew he did, but there was no chance in hell he was going to stop. The woman could have been crazy or sane, but Sampson couldn’t give two shits at this point. He’s not taking any more chances. He swerved his car around several turns and finally ended up on Route 31.

He drove as fast as he could, trying to get through on his phone to the Sheriff’s office or the trooper station, but Sampson kept getting the recording letting him know all networks were busy and to try his call again later. He tossed the phone on the seat beside him and kept his eyes on the road. He didn’t want to run anyone else over, but he would if he had to. His only fear would be a rib bone or a femur, or some kind of a bone would puncture his tire when he did. He started trying to contemplate what could have triggered several dozen people to go mad and start shooting and trying to eat people. Hell, they weren’t trying. They
are
eating people. He shook his head back and forth, trying to come up with some kind of an explanation, but no matter how hard he thought he couldn’t figure it out. He is now two miles from Post 31. He turned on his windshield wipers and the blood from the woman he hit smeared across the window. He hit the washer fluid button and washed away the evidence.

Sergeant Anderson nearly slipped on the blood that had pooled on the bright white linoleum flooring inside the dispatch room. He covered his mouth in hopes to keep his stomach from using his throat as an exit when he saw Trooper Daniels, or what was left of him, slouched over the radio with one hand holding the microphone.

He had no choice but to step into the pool of blood in order to get to Daniels’s body. When he did, the blood splashed up onto his trousers and soaked through, allowing the warmth to touch his leg.

Sergeant Anderson said to himself, “His fucking blood is still warm. He hasn’t been like this very long. My God.”

The thought of this got his throat working and his stomach felt like it weighed a ton as he got closer to Daniels. He couldn’t see Daniel’s face as he walked up slowly behind him, but he knew it couldn’t look as good as it did yesterday.

Leaving size 12 foot prints in the blood with every step he took, he swallowed hard as he reached a hand out to pull Daniels back in his chair so he could see his face. Sergeant Anderson didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t help himself. He just had to see it. He grasped his hand down on Daniels’s shoulder and eased him back in the chair. The microphone fell out of Daniels’s hand and bounced on the floor. His body slid down the chair and his knees touched the desk, stopping him just before he went to the floor. Sergeant Anderson stopped breathing for a second and felt stiffness throughout his whole body as he looked down at Daniels. His face had been ripped apart and most of the skin was gone. He could see the white bone sticking out through Daniels’s cheeks and his teeth visible because his lips were gone, too. His eyelids were gone, exposing his entire eyeballs that hung out of the sockets and looked as though they were ready to fallout if not still held in place by the rectus muscles. Sergeant Anderson jumped at the sound of the air escaping Daniels’s lungs when he settled in the chair. He grabbed the blood-covered desk to keep himself from falling over. He caught his balance and quickly pulled his hand away and looked at it. The warm blood covered his palm. That was it for Sergeant Anderson. The cereal he had for breakfast came up and out of his mouth, landing on Daniels’s mutilated face. He thought for sure his stomach would be going for round two as he watched the mush of the cereal slide down Daniels’s face, but he turned away and quickly staggered his way out of the dispatch room.

Standing in the hallway between the dispatch room and the break room, Sergeant Anderson held onto the wall as he wiped his mouth on his shirt. He was breathing heavily and shaking his head, hoping the image of Daniels’s face would go away. He knew he had to get back in there and get on the radio to check on his remaining troopers. He pulled his thoughts together and turned to go back in the dispatch room when suddenly the slamming of a door caught his attention. He turned to his right and looked down the hallway. The noise had come from the locker room. He pulled his .45 from the holster and held it pointed out in front of him. This is one of the only times Sergeant Anderson has ever been scared in his entire life. He could probably count on one hand the amount of times he had been scared. This one for sure would top the list. Shit was going bad in his Post and he felt like there was nothing he could do. Hell, there was nothing he could do in the entire town. It wasn’t his job, but now with Sheriff Johnson dead as a doornail he was the next top dog. There were no city cops since they were disbanded due to lack of government funding. It was the deputies and the troopers. There was a mutual understanding that they all worked together whether it was in an official capacity or not.

His shoes squeaked with each step he took toward the locker room door. He squeezed the pistol grip of his .45 and had his finger on the trigger slightly pulled back, ready to fire at anything that came through the door. Another loud bang in the locker room nearly caused him to shoot off a round when his finger twitched. He steadied his hand again then started walking toward the door. He wondered to himself who could possibly be behind door number one. Just open it and claim your prize.

“Maybe it’s the son of a bitch that killed Daniels,” he said under his breath.

He walked closer to the door and stopped. He stood three feet away. His throat clicked as he swallowed. He raised his gun to eye level and started walking closer to the door. Now he stood directly in front of it. Probably not the brightest place to be standing and he knows better, he’s a state trooper for goodness sake. He released his left hand from the pistol and reached out to push the door open. His fingertips touched the door and he put his weight behind his hand and pushed it.

The door jerked open. Sergeant Anderson jerked the trigger just as Trooper Anderson ducked down and pushed his uncle’s gun up above his head, sparing himself a bullet to the head.

“Jesus Christ,” said Trooper Anderson. “You almost shot me.”

“Watch your damn mouth,” said Sergeant Anderson as he lowered his gun and put his other hand across his chest, thinking his heart was about to explode. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you in the fucking head...What the hell happened here? What the hell happened to Daniels?”

Trooper Anderson grabbed his own chest, knowing he could have tasted the bullet before it went out the back of his head. He leaned against the open door. “You’re not going to believe this uncle.” He ran his hands through his hair and looked up at Sergeant Anderson. “Trooper West was in the fucking shower...He was singing some Johnny Cash song, like he usually does, then stopped all of a sudden...He screamed this crazy high pitched scream. I thought the damn window was going to bust out. Then, all of a sudden he started growling and ran out of the shower. By that time I jumped up from the bench—”

“Wait a minute. You said he started growling?” Sergeant Anderson looked at his nephew confused.

“That’s right. He started growling and then ran out of the locker room stark naked. He didn’t see me cause I was on the other side of the lockers. He didn’t know I was in here. Thank God, because after what he did to Daniels, I think he would have done the same to me.”

“Go on.”

“At first I thought it was a joke, so I didn’t leave the locker room right away. I thought they were screwing with me, uncle. I really did.”

“Just tell me what happened,” said Sergeant Anderson, raising his voice.

“I left the locker room and walked over to the dispatch room. I really thought it was a joke...I looked in, ready to give them both shit for pulling a fast one on me, and that’s when I saw the blood spurting from Daniels’s neck. I knew right away it was for real, because you can’t make blood spurt like that...” Trooper Anderson started breathing heavily. “West raised up with flesh hanging out of his mouth...I almost threw up right there. I couldn’t help it. I got scared and ran back into the locker room. I didn’t know what to do or what to think. It all happened so fast.”

“How long ago did it happen?”


“Couldn’t be more than twenty minutes ago.”


Sergeant Anderson may not have been a top performer in his class at trooper training nor did he graduate from high school as a valedictorian, but he sure as shit could put two and two together, which equaled out to the sum of a shit sandwich. Twenty minutes ago was right around the same time he stepped out of the coffee shop and saw that Sheriff Johnson lost a few pounds with a little help to some flesh hungry teenagers.

“What’s going on outside, Sarge? Is it bad? I heard a lot of screaming. I should have gone out there.”

“No,” said Sergeant Anderson. “You were better off staying in here. Right now you’re the only trooper I know for sure that is okay. You are okay aren’t you?”

“I guess I’ll be alright. Well, I hope so anyway. I had to put on a fresh pair of trousers after I pissed myself when I saw Daniels’s face.”

“Let’s go to my office and figure this out.” Sergeant Anderson turned and started down the hallway. Trooper Anderson stood up from the doorway and followed him. They passed by the dispatch room and neither one of them looked inside. They had already seen enough to have the mental image embedded in their brain for a while. They walked to the Sergeant’s office and opened the door.

“Alright,” said Sergeant Anderson. “I’m confused as fuck right now and I’m pretty sure you’re confused, too. Have you tried calling your mother?”

“I tried with my cellphone from the locker room, but I kept getting a network down message.”

“That’s what I got, too.” Sergeant Anderson turned and picked up his landline and put it to his ear. It was completely silent. “Damn. Nothing here either.” He slammed the phone back down on the receiver, nearly knocking it off the desk.

“What should we do?” Trooper Anderson looked at his uncle with sad eyes, waiting for him to give the perfect answer he always does to make everything better. His uncle always knew what to do in the most odd situations they were in as troopers, but he failed to realize this was no situation that any man had ever been trained to deal with. There had been nothing in the trooper manual about dealing with flesh eating civilians rampaging around town.

“I don’t know,” said Sergeant Anderson. He ran his hands through his hair and starred down at his desk. He remembered at that moment that he was supposed to pick up Mike Sampson at the Stay Inn across town. “Oh shit,” said Sergeant Anderson.

“What is it?” asked Jeffrey.

“I forgot to pick up Sampson. I hope that guy’s got his shit together.”

Sergeant Anderson wondered if things were the same way over at the Stay Inn as they had been in the main part of town. Of course they were the same because he had seen similar things happening on his way back to the station. He felt like he wasn’t doing his duty of stopping to help, but what could he really do? He had to get back to the Post to get his communications back on line. He shook his head as he thought about Daniels’s dead in the dispatch room and no other way to get ahold of his remaining troopers. He wondered if the same things had been happening elsewhere in the state or the country for that matter. A sudden thought occurred to him. A couple of the faces of the people who were chomping away at other’s faces looked familiar. He just knew he had seen them somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it.

“I think we need to get out of town and to somewhere safe. Maybe up to Bowling Green or somewhere bigger.” Jeffrey sounded desperate.

“Why would you say that?” asked Sergeant Anderson.

“We need to get help, Sarge. People are being killed out there and there is nothing we can do. We don’t have the manpower or the firearms to handle a situation like this.”

“You’re right about that part.”

“What about the Sheriff? What are his guys doing right now? Maybe we can pack together and get the hell out of here.”

“The Sheriff’s dead.”

Trooper Anderson sat looking at his uncle. There was a long silence between them. Jeffrey glanced down at the floor and shook his head. He knew right then if the Sheriff was dead and Daniels’s was dead, there wouldn’t be that many law enforcement officers within several miles of the area that surrounded them. “Same thing happen to him that happened to Daniels?”

“Yeah.” Sergeant Anderson stood up and walked over to the window. He looked outside into the grass behind Post 31. He looked at how green it had gotten from the past couple weeks from the rain. He looked up at the trees and thought about how most of the leaves would soon be falling off with the change of the season. There couldn’t be more than nine or ten thousand people in Simpson County and it occurred to him that there could be half or maybe a third of that by now. That’s if things were happening all across the county like they had been from what he had seen so far this morning. He turned back and looked at Jeffrey and saw how he sat there. He felt like he was looking at himself when he was a young trooper, looking lost and desperate for someone to show him the way. Someone to let him know that everything happens for a reason and everything will be fine. He wanted so badly to tell his nephew that everything was going to be okay. That this was just some crazy off the wall thing that would be temporary and would pass like a bad cold. But he knew it wouldn’t be something that would just pass. He wasn’t having a premonition, but he had gotten the feeling that something wasn’t right since the other day when they pulled up on Miller’s farm. He could feel it in the air.