The Most Uncommon Cold I - Life in the Time of Zombies (21 page)

     Out of reflex, I took a few steps toward the
safety that was normally offered by the presence of someone in uniform. Old habits may die hard, but this habit died quickly as I noticed the unsteadiness and strange angle with which the man approached. It was clear that the thing in the uniform was no longer alive. As the shell got closer, the lights from the parking lot made his pale skin glow. 

     I glanced around at the parking lot and the school grounds.  From what I could see, the only moving things around
were the shell and me. Under normal circumstances, I would certainly have fled from the area to get far away from this atrocity … this disgusting imposter.  But of course, there was nothing normal about these circumstances and once again, just as it had several times during the day, rage filled me and took over control of my body. Before my mind could make any sense of it, my feet were moving quickly toward the shell.

     The pale face of the middle-aged, short-haired shell in the security guard uniform tilted to the
side as I drew closer. To my mind, it was an expression of confusion. If I was correct, then that confusion must have grown incredibly when my fist hit its nose. The crack of the nose breaking rang out in the night. The shell had no reaction to the damage done. Its head simply straightened up as it continued to move toward me.

    
The next strike hit the shell in the left ear. It shuffled a bit to the right and paused for a moment. I could not tell if the hesitation was caused by my attack or if the shell was simply considering how to proceed or if the damn thing could think at all. Whatever the case, the shell continued to stand motionless. I stood back and considered the frozen figure before me. The baton at its side tucked into the belt caught my eye. In an instant, I sprung forward and yanked it from its holder.

     The
shell did not react until a second after I had the night stick in the air. It took half a step forward just before I brought the stick down with all my strength.  As expected, the thump of a ripe melon was heard. I stepped back again and watched as the shell simply collapsed to its knees on the lawn. The shiny stream of blood was clear as it ran down the pale face. Everything was absolutely still for a moment, and then the shell fell face first into the wet grass.

     I stood with the baton raised for
nearly a minute as I strained to catch even the slightest movement from the shell. Finally, satisfied that the shell would never move again, I started walking into the school. The weight and firmness of the night stick felt good in my hand and kept me with some sense of reality.

     The empty, dark courtyard of the school was i
n front of me. As I looked into the darkness, it brought memories of the carnival that had taken place here. Suddenly, the courtyard was filled once again with booths and students and teachers and sounds of laughter. A group of girls was screaming with surprise as a short boy threw a water balloon into their midst.

     At one of the booths bordered with red, white, and blue crepe paper, students were gathered around watching as a tall, thin boy with long black hair wound up and threw a baseball into a net inside the booth.   Digital
numbers lit up two black squares above.

     “Forty-eight miles per hour!”
called a thirty-ish looking bearded guy that I recognized as one of Bonnie’s fellow teachers. “I don’t know, Bill, I figured a ball player like you could hit at least fifty-five.”

     The students
nearby laughed, and Bill said, “No problem. Here
are
two more tickets.”  He handed over two dark blue slips of paper and took another baseball.  As Bill started to wind up once again, movement beyond him caught my eye.

    
My complete attention was instantly given over to the movement, and it was as if my body was transported along with my vision. The sight was somewhat familiar but not at all comfortable. I found myself standing in front of the dunk tank. Sitting on the little seat above the water was a skinny older woman with unnaturally red hair. She looked at the boy standing in front of me and called, “Lance, you know that you have always been my favorite student, don’t you?”

     The students around the
area laughed loudly. Lance showed no reaction but began tossing a ball up and catching it with the same hand.  He continued tossing and catching as he said, “Your favorite student, huh? But you gave me a D on my last paper.” With startling speed, the boy spun around and fired the ball at the target. It hit with a thud.  There was a clanging sound as the seat where the woman sat collapsed. She suddenly fell to the water below. A whoop went up from the crowd as she splashed around in the tank.

     Bonnie appeared near the tank with a
large blue towel which she gave to the woman climbing out of the tank. My heart jumped at the sight of my wife. I wanted nothing more than to go over to her and tell her that I loved her and kiss her and hold her for a long time. But I did none of that. When I looked back at the tank, Principal Thomas was perched on the small seat above the water.

     “Okay, Kevin, take your best shot,” the young
principal called with glee. I saw the smirk on his face and hatred burned inside me. I looked at the target and then back at the principal. I was startled to find that he was no longer alone on the little seat. Bonnie was now sitting on his lap.  She looked at me with a lustful smile before turning to begin kissing Principal Thomas. I was not able bear the sight and turned away for a moment.  When I had regained enough strength, I looked back at the seat. What I saw knocked the wind out of me. My wife and the principal were both nude. Bonnie was still on his lap, but facing him and the pair was writhing in obvious passion. Another whoop of excited cheers went up from the crowd.

     I felt the
heat of blood rushing to my face. An overpowering mixture of emotions bubbled within me. There were elements of fury, shame, heartbreak, guilt, and some things that were so dark as to be indescribable. All I know is that my mind could consider nothing other than stopping the obscene act going on in front of me.

     Whether I had acted or had just imagined it, I was not sure. In any case, I was standing at the dunk tank pounding on the clear plexiglass.  The water on the other side of the plexiglass was at the
level of my chest, and this prevented my blows on the surface from making much sound. In fact, my assault resulted in little besides making the water vibrate a little. The ripples in the water held my attention for a moment.  I wanted nothing more than to continue staring at tiny waves in the water, but I could not.  Against my will, my eyes were drawn by the lustful activity on the seat above.

     Bonnie had changed her
position on top of the principal to face me. She fixed her eyes upon me. They were filled with the coldness of scorn and repulsion. A sneer curled at her lips.  A moment later, she began howling with derisive laughter. 

     I pounded harder on the plexiglass without any great result.  In the
grip of insane fury, I pushed away from the tank and circled the area searching for any possible means of getting to my wife and her partner. The crowd of faceless students continued to cheer and shout encouraging comments for the couple. With each second, I became more frantic in my search for a way to stop the obscene action from continuing. I ran all around the tank several times without seeing anything that offered a way to get inside. I stopped as my head was swimming with the dizziness and breathlessness of having run in circles. I panted roughly, bending over with my hands on my knees.  My heart boomed within my chest so strongly that I expected that it would burst forth with each consecutive beat.

     My vision blurred as I stared down at my
dusty black shoes. I blinked a few times before tightly squeezing my eyes closed. When I reopened my eyes, the image in front of me was startling vivid. It was the red circle around another red circle around another red circle around a red dot. The target on the lever seemed to glow with clarity as it presented itself as the only viable course of action. Suddenly, I became aware of the weight of the baseball in my hand. I gazed at the ball in my palm and then at the target.  With deliberate movement, I wound up to make the throw.  Everything slowed down as the ball left my hand.  I stood there watching it float toward the target. With all the intensity possible, I focused upon the ball as if my will alone had the power to guide it to the target.

     The floating ball abruptly jumped to what seemed like faster-than-normal speed. It landed with a thud on the
canvas blanket which was stretched behind the target. It took a moment for my brain to comprehend what the sound meant. I stared as the ball trickled down the canvas and to the ground. It lay there on the textured cement in a way that was somehow mocking me. I ran over to the ball and started to pick it up from the ground.  As I stretched downward, it occurred to me that there was no need for the baseball. I straightened up slowly and smiled joylessly at the idea that had come to mind. There was no need to throw the ball.  Instead, I just strode over to the target and shoved it hard.

     This time things were different. Instead of the clanging
sound I had heard previously as the seat collapsed, a roar of laughter went up from the crowd, and I found myself seated upon the small circle above the water. But when I looked down, I saw that the water was gone. In its place was a tightly-packed mob of shells with their arms stretching upward toward me. I looked closely at the pack trying to catch sight of Bonnie.  She was nowhere to be found. 

     All at once, the sound of her laughter filled the air.  I looked away from the shells below and to the right of the tank.  A still-nude Bonnie was standing a few yards from the target tossing the baseball up and down with her right hand. I tried to call out to her but was unable to make a
sound despite struggling with every bit of strength.  Her laughter changed to harsh cackling as I watched the nude principal walk up behind my wife and grab her butt lustfully with both hands. They both had their eyes locked upon me even as their bodies pressed tightly together.  In the next instant, Bonnie’s arm sprang forth and let the ball fly out of her hand. My struggle to scream seemed as if it would break every bone. The only sound was that of the ball hitting the target with a dull thud. The clanging sound was long and drawn out in a death shriek as the seat slowly fell away from beneath me. I fell on the outstretched arm and felt the scratches of fingernails all over my body. In the next moment, I was on the ground amid the shells as they ripped my flesh apart. That was when my voice finally sprung forth in a long howl of pain and despair.

     I awoke to find myself sitting on a bench at the edge of the dark, empty courtyard of the junior high school. Even with the stillness of the area, I was unable to push
aside the images of Bonnie looking into my eyes as she laughed and gave herself to another man. The pain of the sight pushed me off the bench, and I walked down a corridor along the side of the quad. Without conscious planning, I walked quickly to Bonnie’s classroom door.

     The dark blue door marked with black numbers 121 at the top had a
little square of glass about four feet from the bottom.  I stooped slightly to look through the small window.  Inside the darkened classroom, I could just make out the rows of desks and walls covered with math-related images. I must have stared through that little window for quite some time because the light of the rising sun began to creep into the classroom.

     The rays of sunlight cut through the ties to my deep thoughts and brought me back to the realization that I needed to
find some place safe. The unlikely notion of ever again finding any place that was safe brought an entirely inappropriate chuckle to my throat. The chuckling continued, fueled by the idea that my domestic troubles seemed less than trivial in comparison to the fact that non-living but undead things were strolling around. 

     The sunlight made
clear the figures of two heavyset women in light blue uniforms and black hairnets chatting loudly and walking across the quad. I wanted to warn them that this was not going to be just another school day. They had to get away now!                                                                 

     As my brain clicked into a
review of all the horrible, violent, obscene images of the last hours, a noise behind me made my heart jump.

     “Yer not supposed to be here,” a
deep voice slowly said.

     I spun around. Only a few feet from me a
thin, older man in dark green coveralls was standing and leaning on a mop in his left hand.  On his shoulder, there was a large piece of the green material missing. In the area where there should have been exposed skin were ragged bits of flesh sticking up and blood soaking the whole side of the body. On the right breast of the coveralls, the name Vincent was embroidered in bright yellow script. I remembered Bonnie mentioning a janitor named Vincent. Instantly, her face flashed in front of me.

     “There is a janitor named Vincent,” Bonnie said and rolled her eyes at the mention of the name. “I think someone must have cut corners on the background check. It seems
like he spends seventy-five percent of his time cleaning in and around the girls’ bathroom and the other twenty-five percent standing around and staring at the girls. I really shouldn’t make judgments. But sometimes I can feel the guy’s eyes on me, and it just creeps me out!”