The Reaper Virus (19 page)

I knelt down against a stop sign to get my
bearings. Getting out of the university and across the Downtown
Expressway had been the first hurdle. Now I have to get across the
James River. Thinking about doing so
and
finding a place to stay overnight was beyond my comprehension at
the moment.

Going south would lead me to the river, but
not across it. There were only a few bridges within my limited
walking time. Somehow I didn’t think going across a roadway was the
best idea. The only way a pedestrian could cross was to go over to
Belle Isle.

Belle Isle is a Richmond landmark. It has
been several things in its long and tragic history including: a
civil war prison camp, a steel mill, a power plant and currently a
city park. The island is accessed by a pedestrian bridge that hangs
under the Robert E. Lee Bridge. The bridge is a little intimidating
as it is a narrow metal grate that hangs directly over the often
raging James River. Although there is a much larger road access
bridge; it is on the opposite side of the river.

The island holds nothing but happy memories
for me. I used to bike there when I was younger. When Sarah and I
were dating I tried to win her over with picnics on the giant rocks
peppering the water on the south side. We took the kids there so
often that probably forty percent of the family pictures hanging up
in our house were taken somewhere on Belle Isle.

I became lost in thought from the happiness
of the past. Smiling, imagine that! It had to be a sign. Belle Isle
would provide for a way across the river without going on a
highway. That, plus the notion of traversing an area devoid of
houses and I was sold. Having another location set as a goal was
somewhat comforting.

Hopefully it wouldn’t take as long to get
down by the river. One advantage to the end of the world is that
you don’t really have to obey traffic direction or ‘no trespassing’
signs. Normally, I’d have to go up several blocks to reach the
normal access point for the island. My plan was to pass through the
Oregon Hill neighborhood and over the CSX railway as a
shortcut.

I wasn’t fully familiar with the
neighborhoods I had to cross through. This was concerning, but as
long as I kept due south I should hit my mark. A sound nearby
caught my attention.

Three human forms were just east of me. The
intersection was very open. The off-ramp from the Downtown
Expressway cut an acute angle across a normally square shaped
block. It formed a large triangle-like area of grass and trees. The
figures were near a sizable bush halfway up the triangle.

I was stupid for stopping in such a
vulnerable place. Somehow, they didn’t notice me right away. If
they had, then my daydream would have gotten me killed. It was
possible to run a block around them, but I opted not to. Frankly, I
was fucking tired of these zombies. Now that I was out of
university property the prospect of being home seemed reachable.
Walking all this way was hard enough… those undead fuckers didn’t
make things any easier for an out of shape guy who missed his
family and bed!

I decided not to go around them, and see how
easy it was to avoid them close up. I couldn’t help but think about
last night in the window… staring the enemy in its rotting face and
unable to move. The difference now was that I knew I was capable of
doing what I needed to do if they got too close.

I quickened my pace and headed right for
them. The tall one – a guy - came into focus first. He was bald and
wore most of a green flannel shirt. Both of the bastard’s arms were
missing. One was torn from the shoulder and the other was severed
at the elbow. He used the nub to hoist himself up from the ground
where he was knelt down.

Ignoring the fact that he started to lumber
towards me, I focused on the area he had been kneeling over. The
third figure, or what was left of it, lay face down. Both of the
infected had been so thorough in devouring the person that I
couldn’t identify much from my passing glance.

The final member of the gruesome trio had
moved behind the bush, so I was spared from seeing it until I was
nearly upon them. Everything was going great until that point. I
was able to keep a good distance even with them advancing on me.
Then I saw him.

Anytime you think of a “zombie” you think
pretty much the same thing and a child isn’t one of them. The boy
had tucked himself back by the bush with my approach. For whatever
reason, he did not take the tall one’s lead and chase another
meal.

I became so disturbed by the sight that I
lost my pace. The tall one made an armless lunge at me. Thank God I
came to before he reached me. I reacted quickly with a wild slash,
the Kukri thankfully still gripped in my hand. My blade caught him
in the neck and passed clean through. His bald severed head fell to
the grass while the tall body was carried by momentum towards me. I
nearly jumped to avoid it as it fell in my path.

Lacking any desire to engage the undead
child, I broke into a run. I bolted up the block until I was nearly
at the St. James Church. The minor crowding of infected around the
church forced me to turn south on Cherry Street. Were there people
in the church? Could be... it would explain why there was a crowd
in front.

Yet another thing I would be left wondering
about for as long as I’m alive, but I ducked around the corner
before any of them noticed me.

I passed half a dozen others before my
burning lungs forced me to stop. The whole incident served its
informational purpose. It showed me that I could run past them if
need be, although I doubted I’d be able to do it in a closed
space.

There was a bus stop on the next block. I did
a fast survey and didn’t see any undead occupying the area. A bus
bench had never been so comfortable. My chest was on fire from
panicked breaths taken over the last several minutes. Since fleeing
headquarters I hadn’t run much; jogged yes, but not a whole lot of
running.

The reconnaissance mission with the two
zombies and the body was a catalyst for my panic. It was stupid of
me, really. All my actions leading there were horribly reckless.
Running through a mostly unfamiliar area teeming with reapers all
because a zombie kid freaked me out? I had to get it through my
thick skull that the world I knew was dead.

My sitting alone on this damned street, on
this cold bus bench, was the result of more consecutive wrongs than
I have
ever
committed. The only thing more
haunting than the sight of the infected boy was the thoughts of my
co-workers used as bait.

Questions bombard me every second I didn’t
actively force myself to think otherwise.

Was everyone at
headquarters still alive? Were the gates at the dorm still holding?
was Lance still alive? Did I deserve to be alive after what I had
done?

The only things not plaguing my thoughts were
worries for Sarah, Maddox and sweet little Calise. I knew that they
were alright. I could
feel
it in my heart.
If there were any doubt I don’t know that I’d be able to muster the
strength to continue.

Somewhere south of my resting spot a gunshot
sounded and snapped me back to reality. I had to stop getting so
lost in thought. My goal now was to get to the footbridge and cross
the river. There should be plenty of time to get on the island and
find a place to stay the night. There was no way I could possibly
make it home before sundown.

* * *

1255 hours:

Break time was over. I took a few swigs of
Gatorade and headed south once again. My course would take me in
the direction of the recent gunshot. Maybe I’d find a living
companion. It was sad that I’d been alone less than an hour and I
already couldn’t stand it.

There were a few infected in the area. They
stood alone like rotting statues. If I kept a low profile and
didn’t draw any attention to myself they didn’t even seem to notice
me. Most stood angled towards the east – facing downtown.

It was so odd that they all stared off in
similar directions. Maybe they had all picked up on a food source
in that direction, but couldn’t drive themselves to pursue. The
undead brain knew a victim was close, but the nerve impulses hadn’t
fired to move.

The distinguishing features of each reaper
had started blending together in my mind. Everyone was different,
but I could not bring myself to look closely. Ignoring all but
their proximity to me gave the illusion that I was just passing
through a crowd. If I looked closer I’d notice the missing limbs,
the mortal wounds and the gore and despair caked all over them.

This was the world now… this was a world of
blending into a crowd of unfathomable horror.

I nearly stumbled over one of them while
passing a black Toyota Prius that had sided-swiped two parked cars
that remained against them. The wreck scene was on the west side of
the street. I had been too distracted by the change coming in the
landscape. Ahead of me, the street was becoming lined with houses
only on the eastern side. Hollywood Cemetery, a massive burial
ground for Civil War icons, began its framing of the other side of
the street that would continue all the way to the river. This sight
made me a little excited, because it meant I was getting
closer.

The ghoul had no legs. He looked familiar to
me. His raggedy appearance combined with the fact that his missing
limbs were behind pants tied with a knot made me think he had been
a homeless man that frequented the area. He groaned and took a
swipe towards my feet. I began to walk past him knowing pursuit
wasn’t possible.

I would have continued to walk by if he
hadn’t started making such a ruckus. The handicapped creature began
thrashing around like a fish out of water. It flailed about in a
frustrated tantrum. Everything about the scene reminded me of a
toddler mad that he didn’t get his way.

There was nothing I wanted more than to keep
walking, but the creature persisted. He started letting out a
nauseating mix of moans and gurgles. His jaw snapped open and shut.
The dental nightmare made a clicking noise that nearly kept a beat
when paired with the rest of his motions.

“Are you fucking serious, man?” I cautiously
turned and approached him again. The tantrum settled slightly with
my renewed proximity. He acted like a stray dog who wanted my
companionship and flesh. When I was just out of arms’ reach he
stopped moving. Both arms went to the pavement and he pushed his
corpse up like a pushup. Looking at him closer up and intentionally
was a mistake. The undead were much easier to deal with when you
only looked at them from a distance or whilst fleeing.

He was pathetic, really. All that moved on
him now was his jaw. It snapped open and shut with a determined
frenzy. His stubbly beard was caked with evidence of his undead
crimes. Blackened veins were visibly spider-webbed over any exposed
skin that wasn’t already covered in blood or dirt.

I shook my head at him and turned to walk
away. Again he started making a racket. This time I was worried he
might alert some of his bipedal brethren that dinner was ready.

“Shut your goddamned mouth.” My frustration
was boiling over. If I didn’t calm down, it would be me who alerted
all the nearby zombies. “You’re not going to eat me and you’re too
pathetic to kill.” I turned again and made it all of three
steps.

He protested loudly and pulled himself a foot
closer. I had enough. Cocking my arm back I took a wide swing with
the Kukri. The broad side of the blade smacked him in the side of
the head. I don’t know if I was trying to kill him or knock him
out. I really just wanted him to be quiet. The strike was forceful
enough to jolt his head sideways nearly ninety degrees. He flipped
to his back and stopped his tantrum.

“I’m sorry.” Such an act of violence against
something once human was becoming a nasty habit. I felt no urge to
grieve for what I had just done or for the pathetic creature behind
me.

I picked up the pace and continued south.

Two cars up the street, I heard him
again
. This time he was louder. My rage
bubbled over. I ran back to him ignoring everything but my anger.
The way his head hung mimicked relaxation. Somehow he flipped back
to his stomach.

Once I was in arms’ reach he desperately
grabbed hold of my ankle. In one furious motion I swung my blade
down, severed his arm at the elbow, and brought it back up over my
head to grip with both hands. Tethered by part of his jacket that
didn’t come into contact with the Kukri, the severed arm remained
with his body. He seemed somewhat flustered, but unaffected by my
attack. The ghoul was missing his legs and now his arm. This didn’t
deter his efforts to consume me.

He lifted his head as much as his shattered
neck could manage. I looked down at the abomination as it attempted
to look up at me. Rage blocked any sympathy or remorse.

Both hands gripped the heavy weapon’s handle
as I plunged it into my stray zombie’s head. It entered at an angle
above his right eye. The entirety of the blade’s wider portion
disappeared into my victim. Honestly I had no idea that I was
capable of such an act. Chopping and slicing my way through an
escape route is one thing, but
this
was
driven by pure anger.

If the crippled zombie had dropped to the
ground immediately I would have turned and let my adrenaline carry
me straight to the river. That’s how I would have pictured it
happening in a movie at least, with the “hero” brutally killing the
zombie, it falling to the ground, then him turning and running to
the next member of the undead horde. I needed to learn to let go of
my preconceived notions about what the zombie apocalypse should
be.