The Plague Unto The End (5 page)

CHAPTER 4 - The plan...

I hit the driveway faster than usual and nearly hit our garbage can.

I thought to myself,
I forgot to put out the trash today.  Thomas must have put it out
.

I snatched my book bag from the seat next to me, shut the truck door, and walked across the wet grass.  At the moment, so many unnecessary thoughts were rushing into my mind, thoughts like
I need to trim the front bushes, and the grass needs to be cut again
.  When my eyes met the front door my heart jumped into my throat.

The dark-green front door was wide open, and the glass of the storm door was shattered.

“Thomas!” I yelled, as I pulled open the jagged frame of the storm door.  I stood still for a moment to give Thomas time to answer.  I stood quiet and still for a moment and tried not to panic.  Waiting as calmly as possible for the sound of Thomas’s voice, I must have blocked out the sound on the game paused on the TV.  It was the new game that I had told him not to play, but given the circumstances, I didn’t care.  Then I heard a rumble off in the distance.  As if the sky was about to open up and make things even worse.  This was strange to me, because I didn’t recall the weatherman saying anything about a thunderstorm in the forecast.

I walked back to Thomas’s room to see if he had taken one of his usual midday naps.  He was nowhere to be found in any of the bedrooms.  I threw my book bag onto the light brown leather chair in my room and continued to ponder what may have happened.  Confused, I walked back down the hall into the front room.  It must have been the way the light reflected off of the floor, but I could see a trail of red drips leading from the front door into the den.  I walked past the kitchen and down the hallway that lead into the den.  The blood droplets were far apart and one of the fire irons was lying on the floor. There was an odd-looking stain on the floor.  It didn’t look like the other bloodstains.  It was darker, and more patchy.  Those stains had not dripped onto the floor.  They looked smeared.

The door to the mudroom was shut and so was the back door. 
If Thomas went out this way, he wanted to make sure that he was shutting the doors behind himself
, I thought as I walked out into the backyard.  I scanned the yard and saw no sign of Thomas in the yard or on the back porch.  “I bet he went in the garage,” I said out loud.  I quickly walked to the garage, but slowed when I noticed the blood smears on the knob and the door.

I tried the doorknob, but he had locked it after he went inside.  I tried knocking, but he wouldn’t come to the door.  I took a few steps around the left side of the building to look through the large side window.  “Thomas!”  I yelled.  He was standing in the far corner of the garage, just staring at the rack of garden tools on the wall.  I tapped on the glass to try to get his attention, but for some reason he wouldn’t acknowledge me.

I walked back around to the front door of the garage and again knocked, and again got no response.  I needed to make sure that Thomas was alright and at the time I didn’t think Dad would mind, given the circumstances.  I backed up, ran toward the door and kicked it as hard as I could.  I left a good foot-sized dent in the white aluminum door, but the door did not move.  Then I thought about the garage door opener in the mudroom and also how Dad was going to have my butt in a sling for putting a dent in his door.  I ran to the back door of the house and grabbed the electronic door opener.  I held down the button and the motor began to slowly pull the door open.  I quickly ran back to the garage, ready to give Thomas a piece of my mind for not opening the door himself.

When I reached the opening, again I saw Thomas just standing still.  “Thomas, that was messed up to let me kick that door,” I said as gruffly as I could.  As I stepped inside I glanced around the room.  I saw dad’s video camera sitting on his desk, and it looked like there were bloody smudges all over it.  Dad’s hatchet was on the floor near to where Thomas was standing, and there was a pile of bloody napkins lying on the floor near the camera.  “What...happened...Thomas?” I said, stumbling to think of what to say.  Thomas turned to his right to face me.  Then I knew.

Thomas’s face was pale, his eyes were empty, and I could see where he had been bitten on his shoulder.  I could also see the dried blood on his face where he had been cut somehow.  I stood still and so did Thomas.  I glanced over to where the camera sat. 
He recorded something
, I thought.  Suddenly I ran for the camera and as I did, Thomas came at me faster than I have ever seen him run.  I grabbed the camera and Thomas grabbed my arm with both hands.  He tried to pull my arm toward his mouth, but I shoved him to the floor.  Without a second thought I ran to the back door of the house with everything I had.

I flung the solid wooden back door open, ran into the den, and shut the door behind myself.  I stood with my back up against the door for a few seconds, just trying to think of what I was going to do next.  I looked back and forth around the room hoping that something in the room would help me.  Suddenly I remembered the video camera that I was clutching so tightly.  “I need to watch this,” I said to myself.  I walked across the den and back into the front room where the game still remained in a paused state.  I sighed and shut off the system.  The regular TV station came up with the news.  I began to unplug the game system to plug in the video camera, but as I did, I could hear a female news reporter talking about what was going on.

“I’m out here reporting from Mercury Boulevard near the intersection of Fox Hill Road.”

As I listened, I realized that the reporter was just on the other side of the pond in our back yard.  I stopped trying to plug in the camera, to see what she knew about what was going on.

“As you have all seen there are numerous vehicle accidents all over the city.  Many of these accidents, like this one you see behind me are not being taken care of because the police and fire departments are spread so thin at this time.  The chiefs of both departments have called in every on-call unit available and have also called in the units that were scheduled to be off today.”

I thought to myself,
Man, this is a lot bigger than what I thought.  This thing must be going on all over the city.  Everyone is getting sick
.

The reporter continued, “Whatever it is that is making these people lose control of themselves, does not seem to be affecting the animals in the area.  As you can see behind me all of the geese and ducks in this pond seem to be completely normal.  None of them or any of the other animals are exhibiting the symptoms that people are.  As of this moment, it is believed that the disease is spread by simply being in close contact with an infected person.  So you don’t want to touch them, eat food they have touched, or even be in a room with them for any amount of time.  Many of the people with the disease appear to have boils and sores, but some are saying that the wounds are actually the result of bites from other infected individuals.”

HONK-HONK
.  In the background of the news report the sound of a semi-truck could be heard in the distance. 
HONK-HO-O-O-ONK
.  The sound was louder this time.  The camera began to pan to see where the noise was coming from.  Just up Mercury Boulevard a dark blue semi-truck was headed in their direction.  The truck was swerving and appeared to be out of control.  The camera continued to follow the truck as it traveled off road, kicking up rocks and dust.  Something was moving on the front of the truck.  As it neared the area where the camera was taping, it became clear that one of the sick people was trying to get into the cab of the truck.  The camera began to shake. 

“RUN!!!” the reporter screamed.

The truck was only about one-eighth of a mile away from them, as the cameraman ran.  The reporter could be heard behind him screaming as they ran toward the tree line next to the roadway.  But just before the cameraman made it to the trees, there was a loud
thud
behind him and the screams of the reporter ceased.  Suddenly the camera shook violently and the screen went black.  I sat staring at the blank screen for a few seconds, trying to comprehend what I had just watched.

I bet you can see where that happened from the window in the den
.  But just before I stood up I noticed an odd reflection on the TV screen.  Behind the couch was a dark shadowy shape.  I watched it in the reflection on the screen.  I froze where I sat, trying to convince myself that I was just seeing things, but then…it moved.  I forced my head to turn and look.  My movement caused the figure to spring to life.  It began trying to walk through the couch.

Somehow I got to my feet and ran for my bedroom.  The dark figure was too close as I ran past.  It grabbed my shirt, sending me spinning into the wall.  I slammed up against the wall, tripped, and stumbled to the hardwood floor.  Before I could figure out what happened, I could feel its hand grab onto my shoe.  I looked down at my feet to see that it was a man, and he was trying to pull my leg toward his mouth.  I tried to pull my leg away, but his grip was strong.  He gave my leg a tug and sunk his teeth into my jeans.  A mouthful of my jeans was all he got though.  I felt adrenaline rush through my body and I began to kick him in the face and kick his hands.  After I broke his grip I dragged myself down the rest of the hallway and stood up as I entered my bedroom.

I slammed the door behind me just in time to hear the man run into the door.  He began to pound his fists on the flimsy door and I could hear him making noises with his mouth.  It didn’t sound like talking, but like he was trying to say something.

I backed all the way to the wall furthest from the door.  My brain was working as fast as it could to run through what was going to happen when the door could take no more thrashing and the sickly person on the other side would stumble through the doorway with me cornered.  I thought about climbing out of one of the windows, but if there were more of them outside, I would need some way to defend myself.

I heard the door beginning to crack.  Then I remembered the old homemade sword I had under my bed.  I slowly knelt down, keeping my eyes on the door, and slid my hand back and forth under the bed until I felt the duct-tape wrapped handle.  I quickly slid the sword out from where it had lain for several months.  I stood up with the weapon in my right hand; ready to hit the man with everything I could deliver.

Just when I had readied myself, the violent noises stopped.  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.  The noise had stopped and the TV could be heard showing the news in the other room.  I stood still for a few minutes, sure that the man was going to continue until he made it inside.  For some reason the man had walked away from the door, the noise never came back.

I slowly inched my way over to my bedroom door and put my ear against the door.  The only sound that I could hear was the male newscaster on the television.  I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob with my left hand and held the sword in my right hand behind myself, ready to strike.  Slowly, I turned the knob and pulled the door open.  Nothing.  He was gone. 
Something must have scared him away or maybe he just gave up
.  I stepped back into my small bedroom and carefully closed the door behind myself.  “Where did he go?”  I said out loud to myself.  Again, I stood still and listened.  The noise of the television echoed in the hallway.  The familiar sound of the afternoon news almost made me question what I had just experienced.  The thought of becoming careless or delusional snapped me back to reality. 
That...person...thing...or whatever it is, is still in the house somewhere
.

I need a plan
, I thought as I scanned the room for useful items.  It appeared that I had the best weapon in the room already in my hand.  I knew my dad had a handgun in his bedroom, which was just one room over from mine.  If I were going to take all of the ammo with me, I would need a way to carry it other than in my hands.  I quickly walked over to where I had thrown by dark red book bag and emptied the contents.  I neatly stacked all of my textbooks, notebooks, and binders on the chair where my bag had sat.  I put my arms through the shoulder straps of the bag and picked my sword up off of the floor.  I paused for a moment, just to feel the odd, lightweight of the backpack.  I had never worn it without forty pounds of knowledge inside it.

Again I walked over to the door and stood staring at the knob for a few seconds, just trying to imagine myself flawlessly executing the maneuver to get into my parents’ room.  I took a deep breath and quickly opened the door.

I glanced down the hallway, to see the television.  The screen was black again and my attacker was nowhere to be seen.  As I stared into the darkness of the front room, I realized that I was blindly grasping for the knob of my parents’ door when the door was already open.  Trying not to feel stupid, I carefully backed into the room and shut the door.  Next came the task of trying to figure out where he kept the handgun and the ammo.