The Reaper Virus (10 page)

Most news sites have stopped updating. I can
only assume this meant the same thing was happening everywhere. The
internet worked to a limited extent, though it wasn’t anywhere near
reliable enough to get useful information off of. I thought about
trying to email people with warnings or to get a read on what was
going on elsewhere in the world. However, I decided against that
once I realized that I was only able to get online because of the
generators and not many others would have the same luxury.

I was shocked how at how it all was happening
so fast. The world was unraveling in days or even hours. If I had
known things would have snow-balled this quickly I wouldn’t have
come in. I would have stayed home had I even thought such a decline
were possible. That old saying, “Hindsight is twenty/twenty,” has
always pissed me off.

In the past hour the phones had reached their
most active state. Judging by what was going on here and what I was
hearing on the phone, the first group infected by the Reaper virus
had finished their transformation.

* * *

0306 hours:

Phone calls had started to slow down. There
were still plenty coming in, but nowhere near the frantic pace of
an hour before.

Over the last day the gunshots had slowed
down too. We still heard them, but not like the night before when I
was on the deck. Then about twenty minutes after that we started
hearing
a lot
of shots. It sounded like
they were coming from right outside on Grace Street.

Looking into the monitors you could see
several small flashes coming seconds before the delayed pops. The
occasional dark figure would fall to the concrete corresponding
flash and bang.

Turns out while I was napping a few of the
officers trapped in the building found the roof access hatch. They
had walked over towards the front of the building and were doing
their best to thin out the crowd.

The seething mob reached up into the raining
bullets. Their determination, their unrelenting hunger, and their
combined guttural shrieks all left the pit in my stomach deeper.
Even as the few officers rained bullet after bullet into the
tainted bodies, they continued to reach.

Erin and New Girl were at the window. They
cheered at first when the infected went down. Brad came out from
his nap in the manager’s office with the sound of the first shots.
I didn’t move from my desk, I just watched the monitor, unblinking
and focused. I felt as if getting my hopes up would mentally jinx
any chance of our salvation.

Then the fallen corpses began to move. Those
who had sustained injuries to only the lower portions of their
bodies did not stay dead. Each horrifyingly started to rise from
their bullet-ridden crime scenes. Any optimistic feelings at the
window box died there. Brad went back to his desk. The girls just
kind of froze. I looked back at my computer monitor. My thought was
so prominent that I think I said it out loud.

“Shit. They
are
zombies…”

* * *

0558 hours:

The time came when we were faced with the
reality of how secure our fortress really was. We heard a scream
echo down the hall. Seconds later were two gunshots followed by
more yelling. Then a final shot. Before I could stop myself I was
already running down the hall. I wish I had stayed in my
cubicle.

It was a blood bath wrapped in commotion. I
saw two bodies. The first was a security guard sitting in one of
the kitchen chairs facing the hallway that led to the back door.
His neck had been torn out on the left side. The corresponding side
of his light gray security shirt was still glistening from his
spilled life. He was slumped over, what had been the back of his
head still dripped gore onto the pistol dropped to his side.

Behind him was a tall, older man in uniform.
I quickly realized it was one of the captains. The direction of his
fall indicated that he had exited from the secured inner door
leading to the C section. That side of the building was off-limits
to everyone but commanders and administrative staff. My guess was
that he had himself locked on that side. God only knew how long he
had been reanimated, or how long it took him to bump into the exit
button on the other side of the door. The poor security guard was
probably asleep in the chair when the captain came through.

The good captain was laying face down – you
couldn’t see much. His right arm fell forward. It looked as if one
of the fired rounds hit the hand on his reaching arm. Most of the
fingers were gone. His body was resting in a small pool of muck. It
reminded me of the color of red hair dye. Looking closely you could
see the red, but from a passing glance it looked black. There was
also a shocking difference in the amount of “blood” left by both
the captain and the security guard. Red spatter stuck to the
ceiling tiles above, while the pool around the guard’s body
continued to grow.

I didn’t want the details on what happened.
If anything I wanted to forget the sight altogether. Lance stood on
the opposite side. We exchanged empty glances. After all, what was
there to be said?

I’d seen more than enough. Slowly I walked
back to dispatch ready to be pummeled by questions. As soon as I
walked through the door Brad passed me to see the scene himself. I
summarized things for Erin and New Girl. We sat in silence. The
phones went unanswered for a while after that.

* * *

0630 hours:

The sun was due to come up soon. I was
curious to see what kind of world it would illuminate. Maybe
curious wasn’t the right word… horrified was probably more
fitting.

Phone calls had slowed even more, but they
still came in. I would address the morale in the building if there
were any morale left. The corporal, who I guess was now the highest
ranking officer around, pried open the vending machines and spread
the wealth. A Twix bar and Mountain Dew became the best tasting
snack of my life. It’s funny how living off of power bars and
pretzels for a couple days can make anything taste divine. Hey, at
least I wouldn’t have to worry about my caffeine headache for a
little while.

My feeling of vulnerability reached its peak
after seeing the aftermath of the kitchen incident. Concealed by my
cubicle wall, I pulled my Kukri out and set it on the desk. I took
my belt off and fished it through the loop holes on the leather
scabbard so that it hung on my right side in a more intimidating
way than any gun holster would. Its weight was comforting although
I hoped to God I never had to use it. Regardless, I was so thankful
to have it.

A flash of the attack in the parking deck
stairwell worked through my mind. My wrist throbbed through the ace
bandaging. I shook it off and got up to stretch my legs. So far my
views of the front had been from the monitors. At that point I
didn’t see any harm in looking through the crack in the window
shutters.

When I walked past Erin she gawked at my
gladiator-esque weapon. “Is that real?” she inquired in an ignorant
and ridiculous way.

“No, it’s a toy that makes me feel like a
man. I figured it might give the zombies a good laugh when they
break through our doors to eat us. Don’t ask stupid fucking
questions,” I snapped back.

By the way, when I’m sleep deprived my
internal sensor shuts off and my inner smart ass takes over.

Her eyes started to well up and I immediately
felt guilty. I gave her a hug and apologized. She said it was okay
and asked if she could see my “fake” sword. I slid it out of its
resting place and set it on her desk with a thud.

She nearly dropped it and let out a slight
gasp. After a comment about not expecting it to be so heavy she
handed it back to me. Feeling its weight return to my side gave me
a little confidence boost.

It was time to go and peek outside at the
infected. Might as well learn what I could in case another close
encounter was in my future.

* * *

0842 hours:

I sat in the window box for maybe forty
minutes. The phones were ringing, but we’d stopped answering most
calls. I wasn’t the only one who was tired of lying to people.

The sun slowly rose but it provided little
light. I was reminded of the late autumn fog that often radiated up
from the James River. Except this wasn’t fog, it was smoke.
Somewhere, Richmond was burning. However, a little light was
succeeding in breaking through the veil. I found myself transfixed
and sickened by watching the infected mob.

The officers gave up their efforts on the
rooftop. I don’t know if it was to save ammunition or that they
just couldn’t stomach it any longer. A low wall of corpses
surrounded the front of our building, but I suspected that
eventually more would come. Through the commotion it was hard to
tell exactly how many stayed down. My guess was at least twenty had
stayed “dead.”

A barrage of bullets may not have killed all
of them, but it certainly left a mark. Many had visible wounds that
would have killed a normal person. The most grisly was an infected
man wearing only his boxer shorts and one gray tube sock. It looked
as if a round struck him on his cheek and took much of the lower
jaw with it. His arm was wrapped in a filthy bandage and dried
blood coated his chest. Others had bullet wounds trailing viscous
crimson. There was one teenage looking girl who could have passed
for a normal person if it wasn’t for her movements.

That was the other thing… how they moved. I
watched them closely. Their movements were both fascinating and
confusing. One moment they were still and rigid. The sight of most
reminded me of the “scarecrow” I saw at the other end of the
parking deck. Their heads hung limp on useless necks in any
direction, each sickening jaw snapping at the air.

Across the sidewalk I caught a glimpse of one
as it vomited muck out like a fountain of bile. It stood just as
stiffly as the others with its head drooped forward. Even as it
spewed a disgusting mix all over itself its posture did not change;
mouth biting at nothing. Then something would get their attention.
In an instant, the creatures would turn from near statues into
rabid animals. It reminded me of a crocodile exploding from the
water at a shoreline to drag a meal into the water. Temporary
dexterity returned long enough for them to lunge arms out toward
whatever attracted them. Their heads would jolt to an upright
position with the jaw springing open at an unnatural angle.

This burst of violent life was short lived. I
could understand how it would be an effective tactic for catching
prey. The crowd out front had gotten so dense that any lunges were
met with a fellow zombie or the side of our building. I wish I knew
what was causing them to randomly attack. Were they hearing
something? Seeing something? Even smelling something? Before long
they returned to their upright rigor. At least they had a short
attention span.

Note to self: Don’t get
into a confined space with the infected. The lunge is fast enough
to spell doom without some room to maneuver.

0900 hours:

The corporal came into dispatch right after we
finished watching the frenzy that took place in front of the
building. He grabbed the security master key set from the key box
we oversee and a few minutes later he returned them and asked for
our attention.

“I’ve manually locked all exterior doors to
our building. No one is to attempt exiting until help arrives. Keep
up the good work, we will get through this.”

He’s always sucked as a commanding officer…
he sucks even more at lying.

* * *

1111 hours:

I tried calling the house. The call didn’t
connect, and I’m pretty sure the problem was on my end. It seemed
like maybe one in ten calls got through. I had to tell myself it
was because of the phone network. If I started thinking about
something bad happening at the house, well I was pretty sure I’d
completely lose it.

Over the past few hours the phone calls
lessened to the point of only coming in sporadically. The phone was
still ringing a lot; but not with all eighteen lines coming at
once. Maybe one or two would ring at a time. Sometimes we answered
it and others got ignored. All four of us were kind of taking turns
picking them up. There was no sense in all of us sinking into a
depression from answering a desperate call every minute. It was
quite ironic that we were stuck at a job of answering phones and
helping people when we couldn’t really do either.

About ninety percent of our monitored
buildings were in communication failure. Chances were that the
majority of those were also wide open. We were getting regular
updates from the officers at GRC. Every student and room was
checked for signs of infection. Twenty-six infected were found in
locked dorm rooms. The building was clear at the moment. They were
running out of ammo, but it sounded like the students pooled
together enough food for the near future. If the gates around the
building held they would be okay until supplies dwindled.

At least I was with people I could talk to. I
had known Brad for a few years. He was a good guy, but needed to
stop talking about going to his car for his gun. It was funny how a
suicide mission was looked at differently by a southern gun nut.
Erin had always been tolerable. She had a good sense of humor and
was easy to playfully pick on. I found out New Girl’s name was
actually Christine. She wasn’t saying much. In fact, she was quiet
enough to be concerned about. I guess everyone responded to the
apocalypse in their own way. Christine was either going into shock
or retreating deep into her thoughts to escape this hell.