The Reaper Virus (7 page)

* * *

0127 hours:

Moisture welled up in my eyes as I listened
to Sarah try and hide her own tears caused by what I was saying. I
know she was also angry because I hadn’t listened to her and I
wasn’t there with her, at that moment, doing my duty as a husband
and father. Of course, I didn’t tell her what I had just seen – I
even tried muffling the phone to cover up the sounds of gunshots
probably a block away. I don’t know if it worked, but she didn’t
ask about the background noise and I didn’t feel the need to alarm
my wife more than necessary.

Craving a distraction from my situation, I
said, “Sweetheart, I need you to lock the door, turn off all
unnecessary lights, and pull the drapes. For all intents and
purposes, the house needs to look like it’s empty.”

The reality was I had no idea what was going
on in the streets by our house, but I wasn’t taking chances. Then
she asked when I was leaving.

All I could say was that I might need to stay
for a while until the streets calmed down. Hearing her gathering a
protest I stopped her with a reminder that I was in a police
station, and that the place should be one of the safest in the
city. Internally, I didn’t believe a word I was saying. The reality
was that in the coming hours our block would probably become
flooded with panicked and possibly infected people.

I told her that I loved her and the kids more
than anything. She started crying in a much more obvious manner
then. After reminding her that they were all well equipped in the
house I said something I never thought I’d say. “If anyone tries to
get into the house – you shoot first.” She was quiet. “I have one
of those walkie-talkies I bought with me. If the phones go down,
I’ll use it as soon as I’m within range.”

I waited a minute and she eventually let out
a sobbing “ok”. I told her I loved her again and reassured her
everything would be fine, and that before we knew it we’d be at my
parents’ farm waiting this whole thing out.

Minutes after hanging up I realized I didn’t
have the walkie on me; it was in my car…

* * *

0230 hours:

There’s no paraphrasing this. I hate gut
feelings. It was all falling apart. From the
New
York Times
website, my fears became a reality:

“
REAPER VIRUS SPREADS
UNCHECKED THROUGH URBAN CENTERS WORLDWIDE… THE DEAD NOW
WALK!”

People were starting to congregate in front
of the building. If only we could tear down the giant yellow
“CAMPUS POLICE” awning in the front of the building. Other than the
lights acting as a beacon in the desolate block, the awning was a
big invitation for any desperate person around.

What was more concerning was that the power
had been blinking. Our computers never shut down, but the lights
would for a split second or so. It was eerie to say the very
least.

We were hearing more shots outside. It looked
like someone was lying in the middle of the street at the end of
the block. You couldn’t see much from the camera in front, because
even when the world wasn’t falling apart its quality was very poor,
but it looked like three people were crouched around the person. I
hoped they were helping the poor soul; although I don’t think that
was the case.

* * *

0318 hours:

I had to get to my car for my survival pack.
Things were getting worse outside by the minute. I had to step out
of the radio room for a moment just to clear my head. Lance was in
the hall when I ran to the bathroom. He gave me the “why the fuck
are you here!?” look. My response was only, “You live on the south
side of the James so do you have a way back across the river?” His
answer was silence. “Lance, I either need you to come with me or I
need to borrow your gun.”

He shot a puzzled look back at me. Before he
could offer a rebuttal I answered his unspoken questions.

“I have to get to my car on the second level
where I always park. In my trunk there is a bag of supplies that
could help us get through a few days in here. With everything
that’s going on out there, I’d like to have someone to watch my
back or a way to defend myself. I don’t plan on ending up infected
or as a meal for some of the sick fucks out there.”

He nodded and said to meet him by the vending
machines in fifteen minutes.

* * *

0433 hours:

I sat back in the radio room, trying to
fathom everything I’d just experienced. My hands were trembling
uncontrollably.

Just as he promised, Lance was waiting,
fiddling with the Pepsi machine.

“Ten minutes or less. I promise.”

“If not, people will notice we’re gone and
they’ll lock us out. The Corporal is talking about locking down the
building until sunrise when they can get more people to come in,”
he told me in a near whisper.

I took my uniform shirt off, stashing it next
to the drink machine. He did the same but kept his vest on. There
was no point in bringing more attention to us than absolutely
necessary.

We were down the hall about five feet from
the back door when the power went out and stayed that way. Lance
was walking in front and stopped in his tracks. He reached towards
his back on his utility belt. For a second there I thought he was
handing me his gun. Pulling his ASP Baton from its holster, he
flicked it open from its collapsed position and handed it to
me.

Well at least I wouldn’t be completely
unarmed.

Stepping out the door we stopped to listen. I
heard chaos in the background, but the generator drowned out
everything nearby. That was both good and bad. Good, because it
would cover up any sounds we might make – bad, because that worked
both ways.

I eased the door closed. It was thick and
metal, and liked to bang shut. There was a slight alcove in the
brick leading to the door, which provided some concealment and the
opportunity to check out the alleyway. Streetlights were on, along
with some of the emergency lights in the deck. I could hear more
sporadic gunshots coming from all directions, glass breaking, cars
honking, and yelling… yelling from
everywhere
.

The alley looked empty. There were a few
shadows at the far end of the block where the person was laying in
the street. We dashed to the parking deck side entrance. Heel to
toe, heel to toe. Combat boots were a great choice; they didn’t
make a sound on concrete, assuming you watched your step.

Lance was two steps ahead of me, hand on his
holstered weapon. The generator was rumbling behind us, covering
any sounds we made, its mechanical whine blending with the echoing
anarchy of the rest of the city. Wearing only a white undershirt, I
should had been cold in the brisk November air. It would seem that
an adrenaline surge made for a great temporary jacket.

Within seconds we reached the glass door
leading to the stairwell on the southwest corner of the deck. My ID
card was in hand ready to swipe the card reader several steps
before we even made it to the door. No need; power was out and so
were the maglocks.

Great, one more thing to be positive about,
now the whole deck was open. Lance’s expression told me he was
thinking the same.

All university owned buildings with maglocks
connected to a monitoring system. Power failures caused a
communication failure to the building, something we saw on the
monitoring console in dispatch. Most of the exterior doors held a
residual charge in the magnet long enough for us to send a security
guard out for manual locking.

The problem was that it only took one person
to pull on said door hard enough that it opened; releasing the
residual charge and leaving the building vulnerable. During your
run of the mill inclement weather situation, this wasn’t a huge
concern, because plenty of people were available to quickly get to
the doors. This wasn’t your run of the mill situation.

Lance barely touched the door and it opened.
That was all the incentive he needed to remove his Sig Sauer P229
forty caliber service weapon from its holster. He glanced over at
me, and then the dimly lit stairwell ahead of us. I nodded once and
we pushed onward.

My right hand kept the cold steel baton in a
white-knuckled grip while the left muffled the keys attached to my
belt with a carabineer. We slowly and quietly sidestepped up the
dark concrete stairwell while listening to every sound that could
possibly be in our vicinity. I tried not to fill my mind with all
the worst case scenarios. Damn my pessimistic tendencies! Thoughts
of not being able to get back into the station, getting infected,
getting
eaten
or worse, all swirled about
my mind. Focus returned with a single thought of Sarah, Maddox, and
Calise.

When we rounded the second bend in the
stairs, light from the thick glass window illuminated something I
didn’t want to see. Blood pooled over about half of the flat
landing between flights of stairs beneath the window. Handprints,
some so thick with blood they ran like wet paint, trailed from the
pooled crimson to the window above. We stopped to listen, and heard
only distant gunfire and glass breaking from the street. Just a
handful more stairs and we would be at the opening for the second
level.

We picked up our pace when the entryway was
within reach. Then Lance stopped in his tracks. I nearly ran into
him, distracted by what sounded like a car colliding with a street
sign. My eyes followed to where his gun was pointing.

A human form was slumped face down over the
stairs at the next bend. Blood ran down the steps from the figure’s
right arm which was draped down towards where we stood. In the dim
light I could see the black veins trailing over the lifeless arm.
Its face was buried in the concrete, concealed in a flood of red.
This poor bastard had the Reaper virus.

We stood motionless for a minute or two. No
sound, no movement. The clock was ticking; there simply wasn’t time
to spare. Convinced this person was dead, we continued on.

Stepping into the cavernous deck we quickened
our pace. During the day every spot would be filled. Now there were
only a scattered few cars, all belonging to police employees. No
one was around; the peppering of parked cars gave us some
confirmation of that. Open walls provided slightly more light than
the stairwell. This made it possible to see the broken windows and
slashed tires of every nearby car.

I headed to my vehicle, parked straight ahead
of me. Lance moved towards his, which was parked off to the side
where the incline to level three began. As I crept closer I looked
around the corner towards the east side of the deck. Centered in
the drive at the far end, a silhouette stood motionless. I froze
and watched it intently. Its posture reminded me of a scarecrow
with both arms down, slumped and lifeless. After thirty seconds of
eternity I crept across the open drive to my car.

My steps stopped along with my heart the
moment I heard glass crunch beneath my boot. The sound wasn’t what
killed my spirit though; it was the realization that my driver-side
windows had been smashed and the door left ajar. Looking closer I
saw that the car sat at a tilt, both exposed tires slashed.

I glanced back to the other side of the deck,
relieved that the figure hadn’t moved. Exercising caution, I tried
to stay quiet as I walked to the side of the car. The inside had
been gutted, stereo gone and glass everywhere. Even the booster
seats in the back seat were yanked out – a sight that enraged me
more than anything. The trunk, what if they got to the trunk?

I reached through the shattered glass to hit
the “pop trunk” button. The sound of the trunk opening punctuated
the still silence of the deck so well that it might as well have
been a loudspeaker. I immediately ducked behind the open car door
and swung around to see if I drew any attention. No movement from
the scarecrow. The only movement I could see was Lance waving me to
hurry from the stairwell. I threw the trunk open and was nearly
blinded by the trunk’s light. Finally some good news – the trunk
was untouched.

The backpack was stuffed. Almost a comfort of
home, having it put me at ease. The handle of the Kukri protruded
from the zipper, a sight that also gave me some relief. Fighting
the urge to slam the trunk closed (as I always did), I decided to
leave it open. A final glance at the inside gave me a smile.
Peeking from beneath a blanket at the back of the trunk was the end
of my mini crowbar. I must have forgotten to take it out when I
unloaded the goodies from my Home Depot trip. Feeling relief from
any good news I could get, I attached it to my backpack with the
top loop. Now, there wasn’t anything left of value inside. My poor
car had broken windows and two eviscerated tires. And I only had
one
spare tire, which wouldn’t do me much
good in getting home with the virus being so rampant. I’d have to
come up with another plan to get home. If Lance didn’t have any
better ideas I hoped he’d be willing to accompany me.

In a near jog to the stairwell, I looked back
at my dilapidated ride. We bought that car when Sarah was pregnant
with Maddox. It safely brought both kids home from the hospital,
took Maddox to his first day of school, and drove Calise to her
first ballet class. The memories gave me a smile. With the world
falling around me, I knew I’d never see it again. I glanced to
check on the scarecrow before the far end left my view. He was
nowhere in sight.

I quickened my pace. Within seconds I reached
Lance. His right hand still with gun drawn, his left held his own
retrieved bag. Now we just had to get back.

What transpired as we ran into the stairwell
spanned only seconds. However, the moment will inhabit my
nightmares for the rest of my days.