Life Among the Dead (Book 4): The End (7 page)

17

After the excitement of the hotel fire, passing images of his romp with Rocky Roadkill, and butterflies over his impending meeting with his true love, Archie decided to take the full refund on his room once the staff declared the building safe. The fire department had not shown up, but the blaze was contained. According to the desk clerk a guest had fallen asleep with a cigarette.

The refund will be credited to his nearly maxed out credit card, but it won’t show for a business day or two. If he is to get to Amber he needs money so he can gas up. Luckily, he has a ready supply of something valuable he can sell.

The Breckinridge branch of Plasmacore is much larger than the one he donates at back home. This one is open twenty four hours a day, seven days a week due to the large volume of people in need, that being both donors and recipients. Even his smaller hometown plasma center allows him a chance to people watch, young and old alike come to subsidize their income and help, medicine is made from the plasma people give. Tonight, the place is nearly empty. The odd panic that has stricken the city is keeping away not only donors but staff as well. Only two tired looking ladies in lab coats man the center, Archie is the only donor they’ve seen for some time.

The process had creeped him out at first, the idea that his blood would be taken out by a machine and then backwashed back into him gave him the willies. An apheresis device uses a centrifuge to separate the plasma from the red blood cells and then gives the cells back. He had no choice when he started, he needed a way to make more money, the fact that it helps people was a bonus.

The cuff around his arm begins to squeeze telling him that it’s time to pump once more. He pictures Amber and runs through what he will say to her, his lips tingle as a side effect of the anticoagulant used in the process as he mouths the words to himself. Lying in the center’s U-shaped bed he could almost sleep, it’s very comfortable compared to the mattress back home that he’s used to. This leads him to worry, his idyllic fantasy of meeting Amber turns to a nightmare. He has nothing to offer her, he’s just a store clerk on a wait list for art school. He wishes to work in comics and here he is relying on ‘blood money’ to feed himself.

The cold sensation in his arm as saline replaces his lost blood volume draws him out of his turmoil. The needle is extracted and his arm is wrapped tightly with a bright green elastic bandage. The phlebotomist barely talks to him, they hardly ever do aside from the practiced small talk and instructions, often the instructions are even truncated as they expect people to know the routine without prompting. She just takes the cylinder of plasma away.

It had awed him the first time he saw just how much they take, the container of yellowish fluid is the size of a liter bottle of soda. He is free to go, his debit card will be credited for his contribution before he even hits the door.

Still chilled from the introduction of saline, the night air is especially cold. This branch of Plasmacore is located on the cusp of Breckinridge’s industrial park, Archie can see the city is still bustling with emergency vehicles. Glares of red and blue rise from the city and illuminate the clouds and smoke.

Entering the section of factories and offices was like muting the craziness of the city, there wasn’t much excitement going on here when he arrived. Now, just next door in the Mercott & Price parking lot he sees a crowd of people around a car. The vehicle keeps reversing and advancing, trying to find a clear path through.

####

Nina has had no luck evading the maddening mob. She curses at them as she yet again tries to back away and go around. She decides to go for it, bully her way out.
If they don’t move it’s their own fault
, she contends.

Three figures before her refuse to move as she slowly creeps forwards. Already uneasy on their feet, they just stagger backwards as a result to being pushed before toppling under the car’s front end. Nina cringes and hits her brakes, the feeling of their bodies being crushed under her wheels makes her shiver. This is enough of a pause for the group to surround her once more.

They try to reach her through the glass, their hands thumping and slapping against the panes. Their bodies rock the car. Under the noise Nina hears the ragged metallic sound of a zipper being torn open behind her. She looks in her mirror as a moan rises from the back seat just as the man that set this in motion springs out of the bag, his arms flail like a Jack-in-the-box, out of control as if they have too many joints.

The man that approached her with the opportunity to ‘have it all’ startles a scream from her throat. She reaches for the pistol she could have sworn was on the passenger side, it takes her a second to remember tossing it in the glove compartment. It’s a second too long, the mafia man is already trying to get into the front. “He said you were dead!”

He wiggles and worms his way between the seats, his arms are useless to him though they flail wildly in his wake. The cool calm eyes she had looked into when they had met are vacant now, empty yet eager. He moans as he writhes closer to his accomplice.

####

Even with the car’s windows closed, even at this distance, Archie heard the scream. His hand was on the handle of his own ride, now it’s frozen in place. It sounded like a woman, and she appears to him to need help. He looks toward the group that torments the black sedan, craning to see around the figures. Within the car he sees three quick flashes of light.

“Hey!” he calls to the group. He approaches just enough to let them know someone is watching.

The aggressive band turns to him where he stands his ground, slowly they start his way.

“Oh shit!” the well-meaning hero exclaims. He has the urge to run but doesn’t like the thought of leaving whoever is in the car alone with them.

Though the path is clear for the car to make its getaway, the person inside topples out instead. The dome light illuminates the interior and the other figure inside. The driver is on her feet at once clutching a satchel in one hand and a pistol in the other. She races around the people in the lot that had made her departure impossible, firing a silenced bullet into the closest one.

“Over here!” Archie calls to her. He opens his passenger door and waits for her to arrive before running around to his own door and getting in.

“Who are they?” he asks the lovely woman. She shivers, though she isn’t dressed for the chilly air, Archie knows that it is from fear.

“I have no idea,” she answers.

The engine is started and the car leaves the lot before the shambling people can get too close. Archie intends to continue on his quest to Amber but first he must attend to this damsel. “I’m going to take you to the police so you can report this.”

“No cops,” she shakes her head.

“But, you should…” he begins to say. The gun that she aims at his face silences him.

“No cops,” she repeats.

Archie’s eyes take in the weapon, trail up her arms along the lines of alchemy tattoos, then they meet her eyes. She’s serious, she’ll kill him without a second thought.

“I need to get to Memorial Hospital in Waterloo,” she tells him. The gun stays trained on him though she relaxes into her seat.

“Waterloo?” he questions. He can see her arm is bleeding, but doesn’t know why she would need to go to a hospital in another city. “I have somewhere I need to be. Can’t I just take you…?”

“Look, kid, I’m not asking. If you don’t like it you can—Fuck!” The woman was inspecting the black bag she carried with her free hand, and doesn’t like what she finds inside. It’s just a shaving kit.

“The money’s still in the car!”

“What money?”

“Go back,” she instructs him, ignoring his question.

“Go back? No way!”

The woman points the pistol at him. “Again, not asking.”

He can see in the rearview, the people that tormented the girl are on the street now following them. Archie turns the car around and heads back to the parking lot of Mercott & Price, using a neighboring lot to circumvent the pedestrians. A heavyset man lies on the asphalt next to the black luxury car’s open driver’s side door. He writhes and thrashes like a fish on a dock since his arms and legs won’t cooperate.

The woman gets out quickly, cautiously she steps over the man on the ground that refuses to die. He sees her and tries to turn himself by wiggling like a worm. He’s too slow, before he can maneuver his broken body she is in the car with the door closed. Archie waits for her to find the money she has left behind. The relief that visibly washes over her after an inspection of the glove compartment tells him she has found it. She sits back in her seat with a wide triumphant grin.

The window of the luxury car comes down. Archie brings down the passenger side window to hear what she has to say as he creeps up alongside her.

“Thanks for the rescue, hero,” she bids him farewell. “You’re really a nice guy.”

With the eerily slow moving people returning the girl doesn’t wish to linger, or have to contend with them again. The last thing she wants is a witness. Killing two birds with one stone she fires her silenced gun at Archie’s tires.

“But, you know what they say about nice guys?”

18

Killian and Hippo had decided to head for the bathroom together. They took turns using the toilet while the other kept his back turned. Killian, having a shyer bladder than his younger brother and a temporary problem with his aim, had to turn the faucet on to get himself started. Now feeling lighter the boys wait at the door, listening to noises coming from the floor below.

There was a crash, it paused them from returning to their room, and then another. Scraping feet on the hardwood floor of the front foyer now sends chills up their spines. Pitiful moans make their way up to them where they loom in the dark.

“Go to bed,” Killian whispers. “I’m going to see what’s going on.”

“I’m coming too,” Hippo counters.

Their neighbor, Mrs. Krantz, usually falls asleep watching the home improvement channel when she babysits. Killian fears the old woman may be hurt or sick, if it’s even her at all. He doesn’t protest his brother’s tagging along, but he stays in front of him as they creep down the stairs keeping low. They hide behind the bars of the railing as they make their way slowly down, just enough to catch a glimpse of the entry way.

Another crash, something glass falls and breaks accompanied by a heavy thud. The boys wait, unable to see. Killian knows the article that has broken is one of the foyer lamps by the dimming of the light available to him. The bulb has been spared, casting its glow across the floor.

A shadow steps in the focused rays of light, a giant shambling figure is cast along the floor and wall. Shuffling feet and moans keep the boys frozen to the stairs, they just wait for the mystery to reveal itself to them.

House slippers take lazy, scraping steps into their field of vision. Aimless strides they know to be their sitter. Relief is short lived, Killian worries the woman may be sick considering her moaning and odd behavior.

“Mrs. Krantz?” he calls down to her. “Are you all right?”

There is no response from their nice neighbor. The boys watch as her wandering feet falter slightly before heading their way.

####

Won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?
Luke follows a police cruiser through the swelling madness of the city as he rushes to his grandsons. The horse is pushed harder than it’s used to, steam pours from its nostrils like a locomotive in the frosty night air. Luke has had to make several detours, each one filling him with dread about what may be happening to the boys. The streets are even worse than before.

Intersections are clogged with cars. Response vehicles sit with their lights flashing unattended. Worst of all is the people, left with no recourse they run. Panicked folks seek safety, running from those stricken with madness. Luke passes what he fears for the boys, deranged individuals driven by an insane need to bite their fellow man. One such person has a victim on the sidewalk, she hunches over him as she makes a meal of his throat.

Luke has to look back to be sure he saw what he saw. More like the mad woman join the feast, falling to their knees to tear into the poor man. In his glimpse of the carnage he notices that the perpetrators have themselves been bitten. He thinks of Callahan, he was bitten at the scene of the wreck. Already infracting a few laws he adds using his phone while driving to the list.

The line rings for a while before being picked up. Though he had dialed his old partner, a younger voice answers.

“Where’s Callahan?” Luke asks.

“He’s gone. Who is this?” Luke is asked by who he assumes to be Murphy, the rookie he had met that night.

“Murphy? This is Luke Stemmer, we met tonight.”

“Santa?”

“Yeah, that’s right, it’s Santa. What happened to Callahan?”

“Gone,” the cop answers sadly. “After we left the crash, we made it to a few more calls, mostly domestics. He got bit, later he just started sweating and saying his insides were on fire. The hospitals were chaos, so we took a break at the station. He lied down… then he got up…”

“Did he attack anyone?”

“Yes,” the rookie says, almost sounding relieved that someone understands what he saw. “It’s the bite. It makes people go crazy.”

“Was anyone hurt?”

“No. I took him to the ground. Then we tossed him in a holding cell.” The young man trails off. Luke can hear moaning coming from the other end of the line. “I’m looking at him now. He just… wants to get at me.”

“Has anyone called the CDC? Or, for back-up from the National Guard?”

“I dunno,” the cop answers, the night has certainly taken its toll on him.

“Find out for me, will you? I’m on my way to check on something.”

The cop car he has been following veers off to wherever it has been called to. It’s a relatively straight shot to his daughter’s house from his current location, barring any obstacles. He coaxes as much speed out of his horse as he can wanting to get to the boys before someone, or something, else does.

####

“Maybe you should lay down,” Killian suggests, descending the stairs to meet the woman at the landing. “I’ll call my mom.”

The old woman continues to shuffle closer, she reaches out for him moaning sadly as if asking for assistance.

“What’s wrong with her,” Hippo asks, following his older brother.

“I don’t know. She’s sick I guess.” He stands on the bottom step, allowing his sitter to come to him. The foyer is a mess. Killian guesses she must have fallen a few times and wonders if she has hit her head. “It’s all right, Mrs. Krantz, we’ll take care of you and clean this up.”

The sitter reaches the stairs, and the boy standing above her. She doesn’t so much falter on her feet as actually lunges for him. Her cold withered hands grab greedily onto his shoulders with crushing strength. Her weight pins him to the risers. Killian lets out a yelp of shock as he fights to get out from under her.

The old woman holds him down, her sad expression and blank eyes take on an eagerness that unnerves the youth. The sitter quickly lowers her head to the boy she was hired to look after.

“Get offa him!” Hippo yells from behind the old lady, his hands on her shoulders and pulling with all his might. He had leapt over the railing, happy to have a reason to since the action usually lands him in trouble.

Big for his age and solidly built, Hippo is able to keep his babysitter from getting her face too close to his brother, for now. His initial yank on her body was enough to pull her back but neither is giving up. To the dismay of his father, Doctor Josh Newton, Hippocrates is very stubborn and brutish, more like his step son’s father than his own spawn. Killian ironically has been easier to bond with; he’s a reader, a thinker, and far more sensitive.

The sitter is derailed from her second attempt, the child on her back draws her full attention. He leaps away as she turns. Killian is afforded the chance to get up, he’s shaken but more concerned with his brother’s safety. Mrs. Krantz is slowly heading his way.

“Run, Hippo!” the older of the two warns. At his call, the sitter once more sets her eyes on him for he is closer. “Oh shit!”

Hippo bounces in place as he watches his brother retreat a few steps up the stairs, he isn’t sure what to do and unable to contain the energy begging to be released. “What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know, buddy,” the brother admits, taking another step up to keep out of her reach.

The sitter attempts to use the stairs but stumbles, failing to lift her foot high enough to step up. She claws and crawls after him.

“Just jump over the railing,” Hippo suggests when he sees his brother at a loss.

Killian does what he and his brother have been told countless times not to do. The banister wobbles slightly with a cracking sound as the boy’s weight shifts over the top. He doesn’t share his brother’s fearlessness, he can’t just leap without regard and forethought. His toes are sticking through the spokes of the railing to keep him on the stairs as the sitter closes in. Mrs. Krantz clutches the thin wooden poles and hoists herself up until she can get a hand on the main rail.

“What are you waiting for?” Hippo asks.

“I’m letting her get closer,” Killian reveals the plan, he can see the woman is not in her right mind and unable to understand what he’s saying. Once she is almost to him, having struggled and strained her way halfway up the stairs, he drops down.

The brothers stand in the foyer watching the woman lean against the railing, still reaching out to them. One of the reasons they are told not to jump over the banister or slide down it, besides the obvious safety concerns, is that it isn’t strong enough for that sort of abuse and could break. Mrs. Krantz herself has had to scold little Hippo on more than one occasion, Tonight, she doesn’t heed her own words.

The wood cracks under her weight and shakes. The boys move back, seeing what is about to happen before it occurs. Killian warns the old woman, afraid of her but not wanting to see her get hurt. With a sudden snap the rail lets go of the wall and comes crashing down with the woman on top.

Given her behavior the children don’t rush to her aid, they just hover at the cusp of the foyer, finding it odd that she hasn’t yelled out in pain. One of her legs is caught between the spokes and pinned to the hardwood floor by her own bodyweight. Her head had bounced off the laminate like a basketball, yet still she reaches for them. They look into her eyes, once the shock of the split skin where her face struck the floor abates, they can see she simply isn’t home.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, the kids run to the window to see what exactly is going on out there. A black carriage, pulled by a white horse is now parked on their frontage. More curious is who is leaping off of it.

“Santa!” Hippo gleefully cheers.

“Grandpa?” Killian asks the red suited figure that charges to the door.

They are both right of course. Before the kids can unlock the front door the man is knocking hard upon it. They go to let him in, thankful for the help, especially from their grandfather since they seldom get to see the man. The boys aren’t tall enough to undo the chain lock their parents added to the door all the way at the top a year ago. They weren’t fearful of folks getting in so much as Hippo getting out. The headstrong boy had learned to unlock the door and had a habit of going out whenever he wanted to.

“Stand back,” Luke tells them through the gap and gives them but seconds to comply before kicking the door open.

Pieces of chain fly and scatter around the brothers. They rush to the man in the Santa suit and hug him tightly. Mrs. Krantz stares at the three in their embrace, when they separate her focus shifts from one to the other, reaching for each without much preference on which she can grab.

Luke closes the door. “Go upstairs. Get dressed. Dress warm, it’s cold.”

“Where are we going?” Killian asks. His brother hadn’t even questioned his grandfather’s order, just started for the stairs giving Mrs. Krantz a wide berth.

Luke watches the old woman zero in on the young boy as he makes himself the closest target. She lunges at him from where she is stuck, inching her way to him with every thrust. “Hospital. Gonna get your mom. Then, get you all out of this city,” he tells them as he walks up to the berserk babysitter, he places his foot on her back and holds her to the floor.

“What’s wrong with her?” Killian inquires compassionately.

“Not exactly sure. Sick, I guess.” Luke sees the lady’s purse and asks his grandson to toss it to him where he keeps the writhing woman contained.

“Are we taking her to the hospital?” Killian asks.

“No. I doubt they can help her,” Luke says as he rifles through the bag. He pushes aside several different prescription bottles to find her keys, he can’t take the boys in the carriage. He needs something more solid for them to hide in while he retrieves Suzy.

Once the boys are in their room getting ready, Luke feels the woman’s neck. She’s cold to the touch, and he confirms the impossibility he feared. He has seen things tonight that are simply unexplainable, things of pure fiction.
Just as I thought
, he thinks to himself as the woman under his foot struggles to turn so she can get her hands on him.
She’s dead.