The Plague Unto The End (6 page)

I tried to search as quietly as possible, but every little clank and clatter I made sounded like it could be heard from outside of the house.  At last I found it.  Strangely, the handgun was on my mother’s side of the bed, inside of an old shoebox.  The ammo was not well hidden.  It sat in almost plain view on the shelf in the closet.  The .40 caliber Glock 23 came with three magazines, but only one of them was loaded.  I had found one box of fifty cartridges and ten were missing, no doubt inside of the loaded magazine.  It had been a few months since I had gone shooting with my dad at the range, but I still remembered how to shoot.  I was a decent shot, but my dad could always out-shoot me without trying.  After I loaded the two empty magazines, I placed the half-empty box into my book bag.

As I zipped up the bag, I thought,
Could I really shoot that guy?
  I had shot at paper targets and tried to imagine that it was someone trying to attack me, but there are some real differences.  The practice target has no eyes, it does not bleed, it does not run away, it does not feel anything, and most of all it does not die.  I would only shoot him if I had to.

I usually carried a pocketknife with me, just in case.  I pulled out my knife and cut a small slit in the top of my book bag and cut another on the bottom.  I picked my sword up off the bed and slid it into the top hole and guided it through the bottom hole.  Again I put my bag on my shoulders.  I wanted to get back into my room to gather some other things.  I would need a change of clothes.  The rain was coming down outside and if I got soaked I would need to change.  Using a maneuver similar to the way I had gotten into my parent’s room, I managed to get back into my own room.  I packed two t-shirts, one pair of jeans, four pairs of socks, and two pairs of boxers.  This was about all I could fit into my bag without over-packing it.

I heard a loud crunch from the other side of the house, and a solid
thud
following.

“What the heck was that?” I said out loud.

I threw my bag on and sighted the gun on the door.  Silence.  I quickly walked to the door and tried to prepare for what may have to happen.  I flung the door open and slowly rounded the corner to the hallway.  The TV was on again, but the weather was interfering with the signal.  The channel kept switching from the newscaster to a black screen.  I walked to the end of the hallway and paused once I entered the front room.  I glanced to my right to see around the front door.  Nothing.  I scanned the front room.  Nothing.

I was about to walk into the hallway that led to the den when I heard something bump into the wall in the hallway to my left, next to the kitchen.  I froze and stared in the direction the noise came from.  I took a deep breath and slowly backed away from the entryway to the hall.  I aimed the gun toward the opening to the hallway and walked across the front room.

There he was, standing still, staring into the den.  He swayed from side to side, almost as if he were drunk.  I leveled the weapon at the center of the man’s back and slid my finger onto the trigger.  “Hey!  Get out of my house or I’ll shoot!” I yelled.  The man slowly turned around, but when he saw me he was not scared of the gun.  He started to walk toward me, each step very stiff and labored.  “Get back!”  I screamed.  “I told you to get back!  Don’t take another step!”  I commanded.  He just kept coming at me and began to pick up speed.

BANG!
  The gun had gone off.  I hadn’t intentionally pulled the trigger.  The tension of the situation had caused my grip to tighten and I pulled the trigger.  After the shock of the noise and the confusion of how I had fired set in, I realized that the man was still coming.  I fired again.  There was no change. 
Was I missing?
I thought to myself.  I sighted the third shot on his chest and fired.  I saw him jerk from the impact but that was all.  I brought the weapon up again and aimed at his head this time. 
BANG!
  The round hit him on the right side of his nose and exited out the back of his head.  He fell to the carpet and laid still.  Small bits and pieces of his skull and tissue were scattered on the wall behind where he had stood.

There was not as much blood as I expected there would be.  The blood that I did see, did not look like I thought it would.  It was dark and thick.  It wasn’t bright red, like I had expected.  I had seen people shot in movies before, and had an idea of what it would look like.  It was not too far off of what the skilled makeup artists could produce.  Still, I felt sick to my stomach.  The sight of the corpse, motionless, splattered and bleeding didn’t make me sick.  The thought that I had just ended someone’s life, sick or not, had me on the floor heaving.  I dropped the gun to the floor and threw up the only food I had eaten all day.  “Why didn’t you stop?” I yelled at the motionless body.

As I drew my hand across my mouth to remove any vomit still there, I thought,
He really doesn’t look any different than he did before I shot him
.  His skin was still the pasty pale color it was before, and his eyes were still the same foggy gray.  I slowly stood back up and walked over to the body.  I had never been so close to a real dead body before, at least not like this.  As I looked closer, I could see that the man’s skin had begun to marble and in some places it appeared to sag, detached from the bones.

CRACK!
  Someone was pounding on the door to the den and the flimsy door was about to give.  I snatched the Glock from the floor where I had dropped it.  I tried to remember how many shots I had fired, but with the stress of the situation, I could only remember firing three rounds.  I pointed the gun down the hallway toward the den and tried to ready myself for another attack.  Many thoughts ran through my mind in those few seconds.  I came to a realization,
I can’t stay here
. I needed to find more people.  My house wasn’t safe anymore.

I needed to try to find mom and dad.

The only two phones in the house were the corded one on the wall in my bedroom and the wireless phone on the wall in the den.  Kneeling on the floor beside the body, I felt myself paralyzed by fear.  I knew that I had to get up and run to my room, but something was keeping me there on the floor.  I forced myself to close my eyes and said, “Get up.”  I opened my eyes and stood halfway, and stumbled backwards.  I balanced myself on the leather couch and stared at the body on the floor.  My eyes were playing tricks on me, making me believe that the body would start to move again.  Reluctant to take my eyes off of the bloody mess on the maroon carpet, I ran for my bedroom.

I grabbed the phone off of the wall mount and listened for the dial tone.  I could barely hear it as my ears were still ringing from the indoor shots I had fired.  It was as though my body had blocked out the gunshots.  I didn’t even realize my ears were ringing until I picked up the phone receiver.  I dialed mom’s work number and listened to the phone ring.  The whole time I kept my eyes on the hallway leading to my room.  I didn’t shut the door this time because the door had already been damaged by the man beating it before, and I wanted to see if another one of those crazed people made it into the house.

I must have waited through at least 50 rings before I hung up the phone.  “Crap! Why won’t they answer?” I said in frustration. 
Dad’s cell phone!
  I quickly dialed dad’s number, but was quickly disappointed when I heard it ringing in my parent’s room, right next to my room.  I slammed the receiver to the base and hung my head.  “I can’t get anyone!” I grumbled. 
But if I’m going to be out away from here, mom or dad might think to call the cellphone if no one answers the house phone
.  I stopped to think for a moment. 
But where am I going?  I can’t just leave and hope for the best.  I need a plan
.

I grabbed a pen from the side pocket of my book bag and snatched one of the notebooks from off of the chair.  I placed the notebook on the floor and switched the gun to my left hand while I wrote with my right hand.  I stared at the blank page for a few seconds. 
What do I need?
  I quickly scribbled down things that popped into my head.

(1) Food...

(2) Ammo...

(3) Someplace safe...

(4) More people... 

I threw the notebook into my bag and gathered my things.  “Okay, first thing on the list is food.”  I said out loud.  I knew Food Lion was the closest grocery store, so that would be my first destination.  I knew that mom had not been to the grocery store that week and food was running low.  I quickly reloaded the magazine that was in the gun.  I now only had sixteen cartridges left in the box.

I had a few dollars in my account and about twenty dollars in my wallet. 
It should be enough to get some stuff from the store
, I thought.  I had no idea what I was about to do, or exactly where I would go after I got supplies from Food Lion. I had to do something though.

Whatever was going on, virus, bacteria or otherwise had already infected Thomas.  I didn’t yet know for sure how he had been infected, but I knew I needed to stay away from the sick people.

CHAPTER 5 - Chance meeting...

The rain was heavier and sounded more vicious than before.  Before, the slight tapping of the raindrops was calming in a way, but now the rain sounded more like an endless flow of rocks being thrown at the house.  I had waited to see if mom or dad would call to check on us, but during nearly an hour of pointing the Glock into the darkness of the hallway, no call ever came.  I had to carry out my plan.  I couldn’t wait there.  It would be getting dark soon and if the storm knocked out the power, I would be alone and blind.

The cellphone said that the time was 2:43 p.m.  Dad hadn’t plugged it in the night before, so the battery was almost dead.  I had about three or four hours of good sunlight left.  I gathered all of my things and slowly walked into the hallway, watching and listening for any sign of movement.  I carefully walked toward where the corpse fell to the floor.  There he was, stiff and dead.  I still could not believe that I had killed a person. 
It was self-defense
, I said to myself, as I turned to face the front door.

Just as I was about to take the first step toward the front door, I heard the floor creak behind me, in the den.  I froze and felt the little hairs on the back of my neck come to attention.  I gradually turned to look back down the short hallway into the den.  Standing in the doorway, silhouetted by the sunlight at his back, stood Thomas.  I couldn’t see his face, but I knew it was him.  I pointed the gun down the hallway toward him and tried to prepare myself to shoot if I had to.  I couldn’t do it.  I whipped back around to face the door and ran.  Right before I reached the front door, Thomas let out a gurgled growl and I could hear him getting up to speed behind me.  I ripped open the door, stepped outside, and pulled the door shut behind myself.

Once outside, I was startled to see more of the sick people outside.  There were two standing in the front yard near the truck and another standing in the walkway up to the front porch.  As soon as I came outside, all of them turned to look at me.  I stood still for a moment just looking at each one of them.  They all had those pale, dead looking, lifeless eyes.  Every unblinking pair of eyes was locked on me. 
They must have heard the gunshots.

All of them sprung into motion and began to stagger toward me.  The one furthest from me almost didn’t look sick, but he gave an excited low-pitched moan and immediately started to lunge toward me.  I leveled the sights of the Glock at his chest and fired.  The round hit him in the left shoulder and caused him to lose his balance.  He tripped over his own feet, bounced off of the side of the truck and slammed his head into the left side view mirror.  He hit the ground like a rock and seemingly made no effort to brace for the fall.  Even with all of the damage he had just sustained, he still began to get right back up.  I could see where I shot him, but he acted as though nothing had happened.  He ruthlessly started to come at me again.

Now only about ten feet away from me, I pointed at his face and squeezed the trigger.  The back of his head exploded and sent pieces of scalp all over the truck, the yard, and me.  The momentum that he had already built up sent him tumbling into the front porch.  His knees impacted the red brick steps and he slid into my legs.  I stumbled backwards into the front door.  I grabbed onto the rod iron railing surrounding the porch and steadied myself.  I quickly jumped off of the porch, but the one standing on the walkway grabbed onto my book bag.  I tried to keep moving with him holding onto my bag, but I couldn’t move fast enough.  The other sick person that was standing in the yard was gradually getting closer.

“Get off of me!” I yelled as I whipped my book bag around.  I gave the bag one good jerk and flung the man holding onto my bag stumbling into another man standing next to a tree in the yard.  They both fell to the grass and I pulled open the driver-side door of the truck.  I jumped into the cab and started the engine.  The door was still open when I began to back out of the driveway.  One of the two men dragged himself over to the door of the truck and when I backed out, I could hear the corner of the door strike him on the left side of his head as the truck moved.  I pulled the door shut and continued out of the driveway.

I forced myself to take my eyes off of the sickly figures lying in the wet grass.  One of them was still trying to get back up to follow me.  I looked down to the end of our street, to where it connected to the main road.  I slammed the gearshift into first gear and put that 22R motor to work.  I flew down our street faster than I ever had before.  I quickly rounded the corner and paused for a few seconds when I came to the stop sign at the next intersection.  I felt my stomach begin to convulse again, but I could not allow myself to lose control.

I straightened up in the oil-stained cloth seat of the pickup truck, grabbed the steering wheel tightly, and pulled onto Mercury Boulevard.  I didn’t see too many vehicles driving about, but there were a few.  Most of them were no longer concerned with the posted speed limits.  Apparently the fire department had not been able to stop that house from burning.  I could see the pillar of smoke well before I was near to the location.  As I drove, I noticed that the diseased individuals had no fear of endangering themselves.  Several of them were standing in the roadway and appeared to have no intention of moving.  Others were aimlessly stumbling from place to place.  It seemed that as soon as they saw the movement of my truck, their attention was taken off of whatever it was they were doing and they could only see me driving past them.  I watched in the rearview mirror as they attempted to run after me.  I sped past them and headed to Food Lion.

I slowly pulled into the Food Lion parking lot. Bonfires were set ablaze where several vehicles used to be.  In various places in the parking lot, cars were frozen in the moment when they had collided with another vehicle.  One vehicle sat in front of the doors to Food Lion, the driver’s side door was open, and there was a pool of fresh blood on the asphalt just outside the door.  Shopping carts were strewn about, across the lot, and there appeared to be no movement inside the once thriving supermarket.  The lights inside appeared to be off and I doubted that I would be using my money to get the supplies I needed.

I parked as close to the font as I could without putting my truck next to a smoldering heap of metal.  I gathered all of my things, slowly stepped from my truck, and quietly closed the door.  The smell of burning plastic, metal and rubber was overwhelming.  I stopped and tried to recall the number of bullets that should have been left in the Glock after I left home. 
I fired one to his shoulder and one to his head
, I said to myself quietly.  I was hoping that I would not have to use any more until I got to a store with ammo, but if I did I wanted to be ready.  I dropped my book bag to the ground and knelt beside it.  I kept my eyes scanning the parking lot as I topped off the magazine in the Glock, leaving only fourteen cartridges in the box.  I placed everything back in its place and tried to prepare myself for what I was about to attempt.

I took a deep breath and started walking toward the front door of Food Lion.  As I walked, I passed an old, green Volkswagen Rabbit. The back window of the car was shattered, but there was no glass on the ground behind the car.  There were also some bloodstains on the bits of glass that were left in the frame.  I stopped and looked at the car for a moment. 
I wonder
, I said to myself as I walked to the front of the car.  I placed the palm of my hand on the hood, and despite the rain, the engine was still warm.  The vehicle had just recently been parked.  There was no one inside the car and there appeared to be a couple piles of clothes in the back seat.  I continued up to the store, hoping that it was as vacant as it looked.

The inside of the grocery store was dark, and I couldn’t see any movement throughout the aisles.  Several of the large plate glass windows on the front of the building had been destroyed.  Glass crunched under my shoes as I slowly made my way to the front doors.  The power was off, but I it had most likely only been for a few hours.  There was a foul smell in the air, and it didn’t smell like rotting produce.  As I walked to the automated doors, I almost stepped right into the glass.  Then it dawned on me that the power was off.  At that moment I was glad that there was no one around to see me, waiting for those doors to open.  I jammed my fingers in between the two doors and pulled one outward to dislodge the sliding door. 
Well, if the door was shut that means that no one came in this way
.  Then I noticed that the doors at the other side of the entrance had already been pulled out.  “Crap,” I whispered. 
Well, I’ll get what I need and get out of here.

I aimed the Glock into the darkness and tried to stay as low as possible.  I needed a flashlight or I wouldn’t be able to find anything quickly. 
Cash registers usually have little flashlights around them
.  I inched my way up to the closest register to me.  I looked down to the end of that lane, but it did not seem to have any flashlights on the rack.  Again I got down low and moved on to the next register.  This register had some flashlights, but only three or four cheap off brand ones.  I slowly made my way down the lane toward the rack, but just before I was there, I heard a shopping cart rattling in the back of the store.  The sound was so faint, I almost wasn’t sure that I had heard it.

I paused, wanting to jump up and get out of the building as fast as I could.  But I forced myself to stay put.  I needed to get supplies.  I sat still for several seconds, but heard nothing else.  I watched the shadows and saw nothing moving.  The flashlights were almost within my reach.  I scooted along the side of the register until I was directly across from the rack with the lights on it.  As I turned to face the rack and attempted to grab all of the remaining lights, I felt my book bag strike a display for potato chips and send it crashing to the floor.  I had never heard anything that loud in my life except for the growling moan that followed it.  But this moan sounded different than the other ones I had heard.  It sounded like it was coming from everywhere.  I froze where I crouched and listened.  At first I heard nothing else, but as I waited, I heard shuffling shoes on the glossy linoleum.  I turned to my right just as a young man in a bloody Food Lion uniform stumbled into the light from the shadows of one of the aisles.  “Crap, stupid book bag!” I said angrily as I pointed the gun toward the man and stood up.  This time I aimed for his head first. 
POW
My first shot flew past him. 
POW
The right side of the man’s head exploded.  His limbs flailed for a moment just as he collapsed to the floor.

The muzzle flashes lasted less than a second, but it was enough to illuminate the seven other lifeless faces staring at me from the aisles.  I attempted to aim at the people I had seen, but it was like trying to hit something at the pace of a strobe light.  Every time I took a shot, the people were in a different position than before I aimed.  I couldn’t even tell if I had hit any of them before I ran out of ammunition.  Rather than keep shooting blindly, I put the Glock into the waistband of the back of my pants and pulled my sword from between my back and my book bag.  I stood still for a moment trying to figure out which one was going to get to me first.  I stepped back behind the registers so my attackers would have to step further into the light before they could get to me. I lifted the sword and prepared to strike.

BONG-BONG-BONG
.  Another one of the ragged looking people was outside the store pounding on the glass right behind me.  I panicked and swung my sword into the glass.  The glass cracked but didn’t shatter.  The female on the other side of the glass didn’t flinch.  Her right and only arm continued to slam against the glass.  I could hear the glass beginning to buckle under the repeated blows.  Suddenly I felt a cold, clammy set of fingers wrap around my right elbow.  I spun around just in time see that I was about to have one of them gnawing on my arm.  I ripped my arm back and forth until I was able to break his grip.  As he stumbled backwards into the cash register, I brought the blade of my sword down onto his right forearm.  The bones broke and the skin split in several places, but there was no reaction on his face, no screams of pain, and no retreat.  He lifted both of his arms again and charged.  This time I embedded the blade of my sword into the right side of his head.  Just like all the others, this blow stopped him completely.  The body fell to the floor, with a thud.

I pulled my eyes away from the one that had just attacked me, and braced myself to deal with the other three of them now within ten feet of me.  This time I didn’t wait to see which of them would get to me first.  I lunged at the one furthest to the left.  He seemed to have been the one in the best shape.  Other than the fact that he was charging me just like the rest of them, I wouldn’t have guessed that he was also infected.  My sword sunk into the top of his head, but the blade wouldn’t come back out.  I pushed on his head with my left hand as he fell to the floor, but the dead weight of his body pulled the sword from my hand.  I turned to face the attacker that was now about to grab my back.  I shoved him into the one behind him and sent them both tumbling into the soda machine at the end of register four.