Those Lazy Sundays: A Novel of the Undead (11 page)

“Suppose to rain tonight,” Mike said after several minutes. His voice was still normal, calm. They were all a little surprised; they expected to hear something about the virus – if that’s what it was – maybe about what the government was advising people to do, how much it was spreading.  The weather was the last thing on their minds.

“Anything coming from the government? Homeland Security? The military? Anything?” Brent asked.

“The state government is advising everyone to stay inside, lock their doors, secure entry points, not allow anyone inside, et cetera et cetera. Still not much word on what is causing it or anything else. They’re guessing as much as we are. Says the Governor is out of the country on some trade mission or something, but is on his way back. The Lieutenant Governor is supposed to make a statement sometime later, but they haven't said when.”

“Figures,” Brent replied. “For all we know they caused all this shit and they’re—“ He stopped.

A cell phone was ringing, a generic dance pop ring tone blaring from the phone’s speaker. Sarah reached into her pocket and pulled out her iPhone.

 “It’s Andy!” she exclaimed excitedly, and pressed the green ‘Answer’ button.

“Sarah, are you guys okay?” came the voice from the other end of the line. Sarah breathed a huge sigh of relief. Though she had not let it on to the others, she had been worried since he left, especially after hearing what the cop, Mike, was reading on the Internet about the disease and its spread across the planet.

“Yeah, we’re fine, Andy. We’re stuck in the police station right now. The two officers are still with us." She didn't tell him that Brent wasn't a cop.  "We’re surrounded, though. Did you get Jack and Kate?”

“No luck. I’m stuck about half a mile down the road from you. A whole bunch of those bastards jumped on the van before I even got down Main Street. I ran over a fire hydrant and smashed up the van pretty good.”

Sarah’s worry came rushing back.

“So where are you then?” she asked, the concern thick in her voice.

“I’m in some dentist office downtown. I was real lucky too. The door wasn’t locked, and I barely managed to get the thing shut. Those people aren’t strong or fast, but get a few of them together and they can be a pain in the ass. One of the motherfuckers bit my fingers when I was trying to shut the door.”

Sarah paused before saying anything. She didn’t know how people caught whatever it was, but if it was a virus, she figured that getting bitten by one would at least increase the chances of catching it. She started to imagine Andy, her boyfriend, his eyes sunk and empty, his skin pale and cold, staggering around, coming at her like he was going to lock her in a romantic embrace – but instead baring his teeth and…

She closed her eyes tight for a second and tried to drive the image from her mind. She was making herself paranoid, she knew, and it wasn’t doing her any good.

She forced herself to speak again. “Are you okay?” she asked in a shaky voice.

“I’m fine honey,” he replied. “Don’t worry. It just drew a little blood, nothing bad at all. I’ve had paper cuts that are worse.”

He sounded convincing, but she didn’t say anything.

“Maybe we can come get you.”

“Don’t,” Andy said quickly. “It’s too bad out there right now. I think we should wait it out and see what happens. There’s a radio here that I’ve been listening to. They’re saying that people need to stay put.”

“Okay. I’m just worried about this whole thing. These phones haven’t been working, and I have no idea when we’ll be able to talk again. And I’m worried about Jack and Kate. We haven’t heard from them at all.”

“I texted them,” Andy replied. “Hopefully it’ll go through and they’ll send something back. Jack’s a smart dude, so I’m sure he’s fine. Probably enjoying the whole thing, like some kind of nerd adventure or something. One of us will hear from them eventually.”

“So what should we do now?” Sarah asked.

“Wait and see. We should probably try to keep our cell phone batteries from wearing out, though. I’ll try to call again sometime tonight.”

“Alright,” Sarah said. "But if anything changes there, please call as soon as you can."

“I will. And same for you. Stay safe, okay?”

“Okay. Love you,” Sarah said.

“Love you too.”

Sarah looked at the screen on her phone until it disconnected.

“That was Andy. He’s stuck down the road in some office. He didn’t find Jack and Kate. One of those people bit him on the finger, but he’s okay.”

“So what are we doing then?” Kyle asked. “Is he going to come back?”

“I don’t think so. He said the van is wrecked. We’re stuck in here and he’s stuck down there. There isn’t much we can do. We agreed to call again tonight just to kind of… check in.”

Kyle nodded. Brent was listening intently, but resisted the urge to jump in. He wanted to tell them how stupid the kid had been to leave to begin with, and that he was lucky he hadn’t gotten his head bitten off out there – but he held his tongue. It wouldn't help anything to antagonize the kids.

The time ticked by slowly, making it feel like they were in an endless waiting game – only for what, they didn’t know. Every so often someone would get up and walk around the room to stretch, or just to break the monotony. The banging on the doors, the hands on the windows, and the moaning continued unabated, but they began to tune it out. Each person became lost in their own fantasy, trying to take themselves to another place, away from the creatures pounding on the doors, away from the police station with the bars on the windows, and the cold, pale fingers grasping them.

Two hours crawled by at an excruciating pace. At 6:30, they raided the refrigerator and ate a few pieces of old pizza and the remainder of a ham and cheese sub. The amount of food wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy any of them, but they welcomed it nonetheless. The darkness set in outside, and the moist smell of an impending rain wafted in through the shattered windows.

Kyle took over manning the computer, providing periodic updates on what was going on. They each took turns on e-mail and Facebook to contact their families and friends. Kyle, Mary and Sarah had each managed to contact their parents, who all, so far, weren't reporting anything strange in their own hometowns, though they were all living in different states, with Kyle and Sarah's families both in Massachusetts, and Mary's family all the way in Maryland.

Twitter and Facebook were abuzz with discussions of what was happening and anecdotes of people encountering "sick" or "crazy" people, but nothing to the extent that was going on in Allentown.

"You think it's just this town?" Mary asked, handing the computer back to Kyle after finishing an e-mail exchange with her parents. "I mean, I know there are some other stories and stuff but, seems like we're the only ones completely trapped by these people. It's the whole town here."

"So far, I guess so," Kyle replied. Mary leaned in close to him and rested her head on his shoulder. She watched him scroll through message after message on his Twitter account. Some of them were about the "sickness," but so many more were just silly or mundane things. Five people trapped in a police station and an entire town gone mad, but the world still went on, or so it seemed.

For now.

Something caught Mary's eye, and she straightened in her chair.

"Hey, what's that?" she asked, putting her finger on the screen. She was pointing at a Twitter post from @andersonp22.

"That's Anderson Porter," Kyle replied.

"The news guy?"

"That's Anderson
Cooper,
Mare," he said, calling her by a nickname that she didn't particularly like, but had never bothered to tell him. "Anderson Porter is a dude I went to high school with. Think he goes to UNH now."

"Well anyway, whoever he is, look," Mary said, pointing again at the tweet.

@andersonp22: crazy ppl pounding on door. 911 busy wtf?

Sarah got up and looked in from behind them. Another post from andersonp22 popped onto the Twitter feed.

@andersonp22: crazy ppl smashed window, try 2 get in. shot 1. still no cops.

The next tweet read: guy dead on floor. need 2 board windows r sumthin.

"Jesus," Sarah said. "He must be terrified."

"Not so terrified that he can't stop tooting," Brent said.

The three college students looked at him.

"Tooting?" Sarah asked. "You mean tweeting?"

Brent shrugged. "Whatever. If he's got time to do that, he's probably fine."

"A dead guy on his living room floor is fine?" Sarah asked.

"It's only a small step down from where we are," Brent replied.

"You posted anything, Kyle?" Sarah asked.

"Yeah, earlier," Kyle replied. "Said we were stuck in the police station in Allentown. Got a bunch of concerned replies. Anderson's the first I've seen in the same boat as us."

Mike, who had been quiet since dinner, stood up and rolled his neck back in a long, slow movement, as if working out a kink or muscle cramp.

“I’m going to lie down,” he said, pointing to one of the cells, and the cot inside. The cot barely looked big enough to handle Kyle, let alone a man of Mike’s size.

He stood up slowly. His movements lacked the grace he had exhibited earlier; he looked lumbering, and lethargic. Brent noticed it, and for the first time, appeared genuinely concerned about something, minus his usual temper.

“Mike, you okay?” he asked his brother.

“I’m fine. Just a little tired. It’s been a tough day.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Mike replied. “Just need to take a rest. Keep checking the news, and watching the door,” he added, and then lay down on the cell cot. His legs hung over the end and reached the ground.

Brent got up from his chair and went into the cell with his brother, taking a seat on a corner, the only bit of white space that Mike's massive frame left unoccupied.

"What the fuck do you think is really going on here?" Brent asked, whispering. "You saw those people. What the hell do you think it is? Really?"

“Honestly Brent," Mike began. "I think they're dead."

"You don't think this can be cured?" Brent asked. "I'm sure all the doctors and scientists and shit they bring in will figure that one out. I'm surprised you're giving up on them that quickly, Mike. You love this town... about as much as I think it's a boring-as-hell shithole."

"That's not what I meant," Mike replied. "I mean I think the people out there are actually dead. They're walking around, moving, but they're dead."

Brent looked at him in disbelief.

 “Come on Mike, you’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“The health department is saying a virus or pollution. That’s kind of their bread and butter.”

“They’re just speculating. They have no idea. I’ve seen them, Brent. I stared into their eyes. I’ve touched them. They’re dead. Hell, you saw it! You shot one of them three times. You really thing a living person, no matter how sick, could take that?”

Brent considered his brother’s point.

 “Jesus,” he said. “Living dead? It sounds like some kind of science fiction movie. Invasion of the Body Snatchers or some shit like that. It's hard to believe, Mike. I can still come up with a dozen more explanations than…” he snickered. “Than walking corpses.”

“I know.” Mike rested his head back against the small white pillow that looked like it had been stolen from an airplane, and might actually have been.

"How about we not tell the kiddies over there about this whole dead people walking around theory, for now. I think they're still a little freaked out from that one dude almost killing the skinny guy."

"That's fine, Brent. You figure out when you want to tell them." He paused. "And believe whatever you want."

Mike shifted in the bed, and let out a pained moan. "You heard from Jenna?" he asked.

Brent shook his head. "No," he replied. "Not any more recently than you have, I don't think."

"She took off on you," Mike said.

"Yeah," Brent replied.

Mike nodded. "I heard."

"I'm sure you did."

Brent left the cell and went back over to Kyle, who was still reading through the news.

“Does it say anything about how people are getting sick?” Brent asked. "Anything new?"

Kyle played with the scroll wheel on the mouse for a moment. “I’ll keep looking, but nothing so far. The State Police and health department are still just telling people to stay inside.”

“Well that’s real friggin’ helpful of them,” Brent replied. “What, do they think we’re going to run outside and start kissing those fucking people?”

Mary got up from her chair and walked around the station, stretching her legs. While Kyle and Brent continued discussing the news on the web, she cautiously approached the front door, her eyes carefully examining the desk and the door behind it.  A few feet away, she heard – or thought she heard, beneath the thumping on the door ˗ a quiet crackling, a noise that reminded her of Rice Krispies in milk.

Leaning forward with her waist touching the front of the desk, she inspected the door knob and lock. The edge of the wood, which should have been flush with the doorframe, was protruding inward a quarter of an inch. Mary leaned in further. Splinters of wood stuck out near the locking mechanism.