The Hand That Feeds: A Horror Novel (11 page)

“Get
down on the ground,” the cop said.

He fired another round, this one hitting the attacker in the center of the chest.
Blood exploded out the attacker’s back as the bullet drove through him. The cop backed away as he realized the shots were having little effect. He crossed the street in a hurry and looked for his partner, as he kept the attacker in the corner of his eye. The attacker lumbered out into the street, but John’s eyes focused in on the headlights behind the figure.

The
echo of screeching tires filled the street as a vehicle tried to come to a sudden stop. The front grill of the work truck plowed into the attacker before it rolled over his body. The vehicle came to a stop and the street fell deathly quiet. The shock of the moment held everyone still before anyone gathered the courage to peek out from whatever they were hiding behind. John stepped out from behind the police car and found the remains of the attacker. The body was folded over on itself and the impact left a foot long streak of blood on the pavement. The head was crushed, chunks of brain mashed into unrecognizable paste.

“Are you all right?”

The sound of the cop’s voice pulled John from the mess. The cop had his weapon drawn, but he was calling back to his partner.

“Where the hell is our backup?”

John was going to investigate further while he still had the time, but a sudden firm grip around his wrist held him still.

“What the hell?” Mike asked
, pulling at John to follow him back around the police car. “I don’t want to see that.”

John hesitated.
Part of him wanted to see if the crumpled body would get up. He finally decided against it when the sound of sirens from approaching police cars echoed around the turn at the end of the road. “You’re right,” he said. “I need to get home.”

#

It was dark when the truck pulled into the driveway. John was filled with dread. He’d seen something on the attacker’s face that instantly resonated with him. He knew what a zombie was; he’d seen enough movies growing up and read enough comics to know. However, it wasn’t until the idea that Alex could somehow spread his disease that the whole thing came crashing down.

He
saw Angela look out the living room window then disappear back inside. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but it was obvious the future of their happy little family would have to be reevaluated. He turned off the engine, hopped out of the truck, and reached the driveway door before he heard the television. It wasn’t until he stepped through the doorway and saw Angela’s wide-eyed expression that he picked up on what the newscaster was reporting.

“…the attacker has been identified as
, Greg Hunter. Police have begun a full investigation. Officers on scene reported that Mr. Hunter appeared to be suffering from some delusional state. Witness accounts of the shooting paint a chilling scene…”

John sat down on the couch beside Angela as a man appeared on the screen.

“…that guy was wacked out on something. I saw him take a bite out of one of the cops when they tried to put the cuffs on him.”

The scene pulled away and the camera focused on a local news reporter standing near a group of police officers. The older blonde was unsure if the camera was still on her.

“…Tracy
, the scene here is packed with onlookers as the police try and keep the area clear. I talked to several people who claim to know Mr. Hunter, and they say he’s been missing for a few weeks.”

John shifted uncomfortably as the picture of Mr. Hunter appeared in the corner of the screen.
He knew at once that Mr. Hunter was the man Angela brought home for Alex’s feeding.

“…Police
were willing to confirm that Mr. Hunter was wanted for questioning in a domestic disturbance report filed four days ago. They will not elaborate on the specifics of that incident however…”

John looked at Angela and shook his head. She pulled her eyes off the news long enough to read his expression.

“Alex bit that guy,” he said.

She
didn’t respond, turning back to the television.

“I saw him
, Angela,” he said. “I was right there when that truck hit him. He had that same damn look in his eyes.”

Angela picked
up the television remote from the couch and turned it off. She got up without looking at John and headed toward the hallway. Frustrated, he nearly growled before he called after her.

“Do
you know what this means?” he asked.

Calmly,
she stopped at the hallway entrance and glanced back at him. “Yes,” she said. “From now on, we can’t let anyone get away.” She disappeared down the hall.

12

John pulled into work behind the shop and parked his truck. His mind was flooded with Angela’s lack of concern. He had a nervous twitch in his hands and he couldn’t keep himself focused on anything. The realization of who the attacker in the street had been opened up a terrible realm of possibilities. What if Greg had got to someone else before yesterday, he thought. How could they control the spread of this thing?

John sat frozen in his truck
, staring out the windshield, but was unable to really see anything. It was another half hour before he could get his head right and several more minutes before he opened the door and got out. By the time he reached the shop floor, the bay was alive with movement. There was a calming effect within the shop and John tried to absorb it. The sound of tools being worked and the smells of engine oil and grease were familiar to him. He glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he couldn’t waste anymore time. He punched in his time card and went to work. He heard the sound of Mike’s voice long before he could see him. Mike was going on about what they’d seen the day before and was looking for John to back up his story.

“There he is, hey
, John.”

John looked out from underneath the hood of a car and saw Mike fast approaching with David Hill close behind.

“Watch you’ll see,” Mike said, “Ask him.” Mike urged David ahead of him.

John knew where this was going and wanted to get it over with a
s quickly as possible. “Yes, we watched a guy get shot right out in the street then he was hit by a truck.”

David didn’t get a chance to ask his question
, but it was obvious from the look on his face that John had hit the nail on the head.

“I freaking told you,” Mike
said over David’s shoulder. “It was on the news. Who could make that up?”

John tried to get back to work. Mike and David
continued to argue over small details about the incident, but it ended with Mike vindicated. John saw him standing beside the car and figured he wouldn’t go away until he came out from under the hood and gave him a chance to vent. “So I take it he didn’t believe you?”

Mike shook his head. “
Nope, I swear man, what is it with people these days? It’s like you have to prove everything you say.”

John didn’t respond. He waited through an uncomfortable few minutes of silence before he leaned back in under the hood. Mike didn’t budge
, but he figured he’d give up sooner or later.

“Did you catch the news?”

John sighed then put his wrench down and stood back up.

“I saw it as soon as I got home
.”

“What did Angela say?” Mike asked. “Did you tell her you were right there when it happened?”

John nodded.

“Did she freak out?” Mike asked now more excited. “I tell you
, Sandra nearly lost her mind. She’s all into those crime solver shows on TV.”

John continued to nod.

“Did you see the picture of that guy? I think I’ve seen him before.” Mike thought about it for a second as if the idea just came to him. “Did you recognize him?”

John felt uncomfortable. He knew Mike was
harmless, but the questioning was beginning to dig a little too far.

“No, never saw him.
”

“Yea well, it figures. They said he’s from out of town
. They say the cops were looking for him. I hope they keep the story going, I want to find out what happened.”

John respond
ed as little as possible until Mike finally gave up. They got back to work and John ran over the possibilities of what the cops could find out about Greg. He tried to work through it in his head like one of those crime scene shows Mike was talking about. He knew from the news report that there were charges of domestic abuse surrounding Greg, which meant two things; first he was married or at least living with someone, and second, that person had to have suffered some type of abuse.

He
tried to think of how the infection would have spread. It wasn’t a far leap to guess that Greg took time to die then come back as Alex had done. John realized his hands were shaking again and now there was little he could do to stop them. He had to sit his wrench down to keep from dropping it. His mind swarmed with visions of the streets filled with hideous undead creatures and what was worse, he’d played a part in it.

He s
canned the bay area and looked from one car to the next. Each had someone working on it, all of them concentrating with deep focus, trying to solve whatever issue the car was brought in for. John felt sweat running down his back and as he swept his sleeve across his forehead; he felt the dampness thick on the material. He nearly felt his heart stop as one of the three massive roll up doors came to life; the sound vibrated throughout the shop as sunlight crept into the bay.

John had to settle his nerv
es. He forced his legs to move, crossed the bay, and stood at the new opening taking in the fresh air. The sunlight felt good on his face. He closed his eyes and felt the wind blow across the front of the shop. He held himself up right, leaning against the roll up door’s frame with one hand.

A sound from out in the street caught
his attention. It was low at first, but growing quickly as it approached. He looked up one side of the street and down the other as far as he could see. Traffic was not particularly heavy, but he could tell by the passersby that they heard something as well. He took a few steps out into the customer parking lot and cocked his head to one side. The sound was loud enough to make out and he was sure it was a siren. He was out near the sidewalk after several long strides where he saw cars pulling over to the side of the road.

S
everal of the others guys in the shop gathered near the opened bay door. John’s attention was drawn toward Main Street when a police car pulled around the corner, several blocks away. The sound of the siren intensified by the second; as one police car after another turned down the street. By the time the first car drove past John, there was four more right behind it. They were moving so fast that the other cars on the road barely had time to get out of the way. Most of the guys in the shop had moved out closer to the street and John discovered Mike standing next to him, the exhilaration glowing on his face.

“I swear we haven’t ha
d this much excitement in years.”

John kept his eyes on the police cars
as the first one turned off two blocks down from the shop. “I wonder where they’re going,” he said. “What’s down there?”

Mike thought about it for a second.
“The court house?”

John kept watching.

Mike guessed again. “The DMV?”

John
soured as he considered the possibilities; one he knew somehow to be the answer. “The hospital.” He looked back at some of the other faces and didn’t see the concern he was feeling. He realized that there was no need for them to be concerned, they had no idea what was going on at his house. He looked for some support from Mike, but found little, like the crowd he too was losing interest.

“Come on
, John, we better get back in there,” Mike said as he started toward the shop. “We’ll be able to find out what all the fuss was about on the news.”

Hesitantly
, John returned to the bay floor. He knew his paranoia was getting the best of him, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He settled under the hood of the car he was working on and tried to get back to what he was doing. He forced himself to keep at his task for another hour.

The shop settled down and most of the floor was alive
again with people moving from one vehicle to the next. John was able to get his mind in the right place when two distinct gunshots pulled everyone’s attention back outside. Several people rushed to the rollup doors, but John hesitated. They all stood in silence, each one looking for the cause of the sound. Someone pointed up the street and as everyone followed his direction. The crowd shrank back as two more shots echoed from that direction.

John walked out to the front of the shop
and found everyone’s eyes locked on a police car coming down Main Street. It was swerving badly from one side of the road to the other. The vehicle’s siren was off, but the lights were still going. The crowed watched in stunned silence as the car slammed into another vehicle, then kept going. It barreled down the road until it swerved over the sidewalk and plunged into the gas station directly across the street from the shop. Everyone stood still for a moment amazed by what they’d seen. Several seconds passed before a group of them started across the street, John included.

It wasn’t until
they got halfway across the street that John saw a struggle going on inside the police car. The driver had pushed his back up against the steering wheel and someone in the rear seat was trying to climb into the front. None of the others paid attention until the cop fired his pistol. The figure in the rear of the car plopped back against the seat, but kept moving. John reached the car with two other men by his side. The car had knocked over one of the fuel dispensers and the smell consumed the immediate area. John didn’t realize fuel was leaking across the lot until he was standing in it.

“Get the door
.”

One of the men pulled on the driver side
handle and managed to get it open.

“What the hell?”

John had already caught sight of the figure in the backseat before he heard the question. Whatever it was, he instantly compared to Alex. The gruesome thing’s flesh had been peeled away, revealing fully exposed teeth and partially melted eyeballs. John grabbed the cop by the hand and pulled. He heard the dreadful, guttural moan from the backseat and caught sight of it lunging forward. He jumped back, pulling the cop with him. The two fell hard on the ground with John taking most of the impact.

“Close the door
,” the cop said.

One of the men did as he was
told, then he stumbled back as the creature clawed at the window. The cop got to his feet and kept his eyes trained on the car. His arms were covered with deep scratches and his uniform was soaked with blood.

“Get back
.”

John stood up and watched as the cop fired several rounds into the car. Three
shots hit the creature in the head, the impact sending it into the passenger seat. There was another body slumped over in the seat, its head resting against the glove compartment. The creature fell on top of the body and instantly started to feed.

“No
,” the cop said, firing the rest of his clip.

“What is that thing?” one of the other guys asked.

The cop reloaded his pistol, never taking his eyes off the car. “It’s a freaking zombie,” he said, “a freaking zombie.” He raised his pistol and took aim.

John had never
said the word aloud and he never thought he would hear anyone else say it.

“You might wa
nt to step away,” the cop said as started walking toward the car. “I won’t become one of you.”

It took half a second for John to realize where the cop was aiming
, and another to realize the last statement was meant for the flesh eater in the car. He was able to turn and run before the next round struck the fuel beneath the car. The explosion that followed engulfed the vehicle, the cop, and everyone else within twenty feet. John felt a wave of heat burn across his back from the erupting fireball. The force picked him up off the ground and tossed him several feet out into the street. He hit the pavement on his back and his head snapped with violent force. The heat from the fire washed over his face and he tried to move, but his mind went blank, followed by a flood of pure black.

#

Dim light crept through John’s eyelids. He blinked hard and tried to remember where he was. His head was throbbing and there was a constant shot of pain in his back he couldn’t account for. There was an intense heat on his face that offered no more clues. All at once, the memory of the events surrounding the explosion crashed down on him and he tried to sit up. He felt a hand on his shoulder urging him to stay down. Mike’s voice called out to him before he opened his eyes.

“Don’t move just yet
. The EMT said she needs to take a closer look at you when she gets back.”

John waited for Mike to
remove his hand from his shoulder, then he quickly sat up.

“You’re a terrible patient.
”

John squeezed the back of his neck and tried to open his eyes. The light
made his head throb worse, but he forced himself to keep his eyes open.

“How long have I been out?” John asked.

“It’s been about two hours.”

“Two hours?”

“You were in and out.”

“What happened?” John could see he was lying on the shop floor
and from what he could tell, most of the other guys were standing outside in the parking lot. He couldn’t see what they were looking at, but he guessed the remains of the police car were quite a sight. “They got the fire out?”