When the Dead Rise (Book 1): The Beginning (5 page)

"Hello? Did someone call nine-one-one?" a male voice called loudly, followed by three more heavy bangs on the front door.

Maggie stumbled to her feet, trying not to put too much pressure on her wounded leg, and stumbled towards the front of the house.

"We're responding to a call made to nine-one-one. We are entering the house in case you are unable to answer the door yourself," the voice shouted again.

Maggie rounded the corner, a warning on her lips, just in time to watch the paramedics push the front door open. The Tyrone-shaped zombie fell through the door, latching its teeth into the closest paramedic and bit deeply into his neck.

There was a grotesque gurgling sound followed by the second paramedic shouting, "Get off of him." He pulled at Tyrone's arm, as his partner struggled beneath the big man's weight. When that didn't distract the zombie from his gorging, he pounded on its back and head. Maggie watched in stunned horror as Tyrone ripped chunks of flesh from the man's neck and shoulder, oblivious to the man standing above him. When the man beneath Tyrone stopped fighting and stilled, his attention turned to the living man standing over him. The paramedic gasped and stumbled back as the zombie reached for him. Opening its gore-filled mouth open, the zombie let out a low, inhuman moan that started from deep within him. The sound made Maggie shudder.

She watched, unwilling to draw attention to herself by calling out a warning as the paramedic turned and dashed into the house. He swung the door closed behind him, but wasn't quite fast enough. Tyrone stumbled to his feet and reached through the doorway, stopping the swinging door before it was able to fully close.

"It may have saved him if he'd gotten inside sooner," Maggie snorted as she watched the zombie push open the door and disappear inside. Within the minute, she heard the screams of the second paramedic before those too were silenced.

Hobbling across the yard as quickly as her leg would allow, Maggie prayed that Tyrone hadn't taken her spare set of keys from the glove compartment of her car. He'd always hated knowing they were so easily accessible to someone who might want to steal her beat-up-hunk-of-junk. She flung open the door and fell onto the seat, slamming the door closed behind her. Ignoring the searing pain in her leg and the lightness of her head, she ransacked the glove compartment; there was momentary panic when Maggie couldn't find the spare keys amidst the clutter. When her fingers touched the cold metal of the keying, she breathed a sigh of relief and turned her attention to her leg. Blood pooled on the floor of the car. She knew that if she was going to make it to her sisters while she was still conscious, she needed to wrap the wound and stop the bleeding.

In the back seat, Maggie found a cotton t-shirt she'd left in the car after one of her more grueling shifts and quickly tore two strips from the bottom of the shirt. She wadded up the remainder to use as an absorbent pad. With practiced skill, Maggie staunched the flow of blood in under a minute and cracked open a bottle of water.
Fluids after blood-loss is a must!

Just as she was putting the key into the ignition, movement in her peripheral vision made Maggie turn her head. It was the first paramedic; he stumbled into her car door. She cranked the key and the car roared to life. Throwing the car into reverse, she stomped on the gas. It flew down the drive. The tires squealed when Maggie spun the steering wheel as far right as it would go. The car swung onto the street then stopped, swaying from the violent turn. Maggie fumbled with the shifter as she watched the paramedic stumble towards her. With the car finally in drive Maggie sped past the house just in time to see Tyrone and the second paramedic stumble off of her porch.

Poor choices...

Maggie didn't remember the eight-minute drive to her sisters or her frantic banging on the door; she only remembered seeing her sister's panicked face when the door finally opened.

"Oh God Maggie, what happened to you?" Anne exclaimed after taking in her sister's state.

Maggie collapsed, bawling, into her sister's open arms. "Tyrone..." she gasped, unable to catch her breath, knowing she was going into shock.

"Tyrone did this to you?" Anne asked incredulously.

"Yes... No.. He's dead Anne." Maggie managed to get out between sobs.

"Dead?" Now it was Anne's turn to be shocked. "How?"

"He was dead but now he's not. He's walking around biting people Anne and they die and get back up to bite more people." Maggie looked up into her sister's frightened face. "I'm going to die and come back like them. I'm going to eat people too."

"No baby," Anne stroked Maggie's hair gently as she spoke in a calming tone, but felt none of the calm she was trying to impart to her sister, "you aren't going to die or eat people. I don't know what you've been through, but you're a mess; you're in shock. Let's get you inside so I can take a look at you."

Maggie went wild, thrashing against her sister's embrace. "No, not inside. I'm not going to put you at risk. If I die I'll come back and eat you."

Anne looked down and noticed the wrapping on Maggie's calf; Anne's blood ran cold. Something very bad had happened to her baby sister. She was going to find out who'd done this to her and make them pay. "What happened to your leg sweetie?" Anne asked, unsure if she truly wanted an answer.

Maggie's hand went down to the makeshift bandage, loosening the ties. Anne gasped when the cloth fell away revealing a nasty bite and a missing chunk of skin. "Who bit you?" she asked, unable to mask the horror in her voice.

"Tyrone," Maggie wailed.

"Well we're going to take you to the hospital..."

"No!" Maggie screamed. "No hospital!"

"Well baby, if I can't take you inside and I can't take you to the hospital, what do you expect me to do with you?" Anne wasn't sure what to do; she'd never seen anything like this before.

Maggie looked up to Anne with glassy eyes. "Do you have any orange juice or lemonade? I need to keep my fluids and sugar up because of the blood loss."

Anne sighed; for someone in shock she'd at least retained her medical training. "Sure thing baby. You wait right here and I'll be back in a few minutes with some juice for you." As Anne hurried back into the house to pour a glass of juice she remembered the sleeping pills she'd been prescribed a year earlier. If Maggie wasn't going to be reasonable, then she'd just have to make sure she was calm until Anne could get her to the hospital. It didn't take Anne long to crush the tiny blue pill, mixing some of the powder in with the juice. Before long, she was handing the spiked drink back to her sister, who chugged the whole thing in one breath.

Anne sat rocking Maggie on the porch of her home, trying to decide what she'd do after dropping Maggie off at the hospital. She could go confront Tyrone, but the big man frightened Anne. She could go to the police and report the incident - but what would they do... Maggie had been bitten.
Is biting considered abuse? Assault?
"It sure as hell is," Anne said indignantly.

Maggie gave a soft groan from Anne's lap; she was asleep at last.

Volume 3: Wildfire

Shifts end...

Officer Rick Powell and his partner Officer Brett Lewis pulled into the stations parking lot, glad the day was finally over. Their final call of the evening had been a domestic dispute where the woman refused to press charges against her dead-beat husband; those type of calls always infuriated Powell. He'd been a cop for twenty-one years and knew he'd never understand why a battered woman would always stand by her man once the cops showed up.
At least the day's over.
He was looking forward to going home, taking a long, hot shower, and spending an evening with his wife and children.

"What are you up to tonight Lewis?" Powell asked his partner as they exited the patrol car.

"I was going to grab a drink with Tanya from booking when her shift ends." Lewis gave his partner a lewd look and Powell rolled his eyes. Lewis was twenty-six and fresh out of the academy. He hadn't yet learned that dating the women he worked with was a bad idea. That knowledge would come with time and experience.

"Are you still..." Powell began but was cut off by a screech of tires. Both officers looked to the end of the parking lot as a car swerved around the bank of parked vehicles. "What's this now?" he sighed, lifting his arm to flag the car down.

"Watch out Rick!" Lewis grabbed Powell, yanking him back, just as the car swerved in their direction and smashed into the cruiser next to them. Both officers ran to the driver's side door. It opened and a short woman with bleached hair struggled to free herself from the wreckage.

Powell immediately took in the woman's condition; her wild eyes were glazed, she had a cut just above her left eye and he noticed her side was drenched with blood.

"Get on the ground," Lewis shouted as he drew his weapon.

"Easy." Powell placed a hand on his partner's arm, forcing the rookie to lower his weapon. "She's been hurt - let's get her out of the car and see what's going on." It took some manoeuvring but soon the woman stood on shaking legs, glancing wildly around the parking lot.

Powell took the woman by her shoulders and gazed into her glassy eyes. "Where are you hurt? What is your name?" but his questions weren't to be answered; the woman collapsed in his arms. Lewis stood gaping, his mouth moved but no words came out. "Help me get her inside Lewis," Powell barked.

They carried the bloody woman into the waiting area, laying her across several of the plastic seats. He gingerly lifted the side of the woman's shirt and both cops gasped when the shirt peeled away from two bloody holes in her side. Powell turned to his partner, who looked at the woman in shock. "Go get a first aid kit and tell whoever's working the desk to get another officer down here to take this woman's statement."

Lewis didn't move. "Why didn't she go to the hospital?"

"Does it look like I can ask her?" Powell snapped, motioning to the unconscious woman. "Just go do what I asked - and have whoever's there call an ambulance."

Lewis had just disappeared from sight when the woman moaned and her eyes fluttered open. Powell squatted beside her, taking her hand in his large one. "Ma'am?" She moaned again and mumbled something he couldn't make out. "What is your name ma'am?" Powell spoke loudly, trying to draw the woman back to consciousness. The woman screamed, sitting bolt upright, and then grimaced as she grabbed her side. Her eyes met Powell's and the terror he saw there frightened the veteran cop. "What's your name ma'am?"

Her whole body shook as she spoke in a trembling voice. "Roslyn. Roslyn Macpherson. Where am I? "

"You're in the police station. You crashed into one of the cars in our parking lot." Powell paused for a moment, giving Roslyn time to acclimate herself with her surroundings; she still looked like she was in shock. He spoke in a low calming tone, "What happened to you Roslyn? Why did you come to the police station and not go to the hospital?"

"They're eating my neighbours. They tried to eat me. My neighbours have gone crazy. They've started attacking and eating people. I couldn't go to the hospital because someone needs to go there and stop them from eating people," Roslyn rambled.

Powell sat in disbelieving silence; this woman was further gone than he'd thought.
She must have lost a little too much blood.

"My daughter... my daughter will be home soon and she doesn't know that he's going to try to eat her too." Roslyn shifted into a sitting position, grimacing with each movement. "You have to go warn my little girl and arrest my neighbours. They're killing people."

"Can I look at your side Roslyn?" Powell said calmly, although he didn't feel calm. His guts twisted a little more with each word Roslyn spoke. She'd obviously been through something traumatic, but he couldn't bring himself to believe that there were people in his city eating one another.

"You'll go right?" She reached out with a bloody hand and clasped Powell's arm tightly. "You're going to go..."

"I promise to send someone. My partner is getting help right now." That seemed to appease her and she lifted her shirt, baring her bloody side for Powell.

The bleeding appeared to have slowed but Powell couldn't make out much beneath all the blood; he'd have to wait for Lewis to come back with supplies. To the veteran cop, it looked almost as if she'd been bitten by another human. Cold chills ran down his spine. "Is this the only place you're hurt?" he asked cautiously, unsure if he wanted to know the full extent of the woman's wounds.

"My back." Roslyn tried to pull her shirt up further, but it was too painful for her and Powell sat beside her, lifting it for her. He was glad she couldn't see the horror on his face as he inspected the long scratch marks on her lower back. He bent closer; there was something imbedded in her skin, at the bottom of the longest scratch, just above her pant line. Without thinking Powell pulled it out, making Roslyn cry out in pain. He studied the crescent shaped object, wiping away the blood from its jagged surface. He felt bile rise in his throat as he realized what had been imbedded in Roslyn's back: he'd just pulled a human fingernail from the poor woman's flesh.

"Tell me what happened Roslyn," Powell said in a tone he hoped didn't alert her to how shaken he was.

"I don't know anymore. It just doesn't seem real." She looked at Powell; fear, confusion, pain, and uncertainty radiated from her eyes.

"Just tell me what you remember, no matter how unbelievable it may seem." He was surprised when Roslyn took his hand in hers, squeezing it tightly.

She inhaled deeply, letting the exhalation out in a slow, controlled breath before beginning. "I'd just gotten home from the grocery store. I'd been kept late at work and picked up tacos for dinner because it was quick. The kids love it when I make tacos for dinner." Tears splashed down onto Powell's hand, but Roslyn went on without noticing. "I called to Peter, my son, to come help me unload the groceries. I was angry that he'd left the garage door open and his skateboard in the driveway again, so I'd shouted loudly for him. I began pulling bags out of the backseat when I saw his shadow. I started to say that if he didn't get his stuff put away properly that I'd take it away for a month and it would teach him to take better care of his things." Roslyn looked up at Powell with more tears shimmering in her eyes and a small sad smile on her lips. "Do you have children Officer?"

Powell nodded, remembering the many time's he'd done the same thing to his twelve year old son Stevie. "I have a son and a daughter," he said around the lump growing in his throat. He wasn't sure if he wanted Roslyn to continue with her story; he had a very bad feeling about the direction it was headed.

"Then you know how they are." Roslyn's tears spilled over, leaving streaks on her cheeks. "He was always such a good boy; strong like his father and smart like me. He just had a problem putting things away."

She broke down into sobs for what seemed, to Powell, like forever. He was used to dealing with hysterical women - it was part of his daily job - but this was different and his gut knotted with anxiety. As a cop, he always trusted his gut instinct and now it was telling him to grab his family and head for the hills. No matter how badly he wanted to trust his instinct and go, he knew he couldn't do that. "Go on Roslyn," he gently prodded.

"Well I'd started to scold him when I felt cold hands on my back. I yelped because the cold was unexpected and I started to back up so I didn't hit my head on the car roof. Then pain shot up from my side and I began to scream; he'd bitten me hard enough that he'd broken skin. My first thought was that it wasn't him, that some sicko had hold of me. I scrambled over the groceries in the back seat and had just gotten the passenger side door opened when he pulled me back through the car and bit me a second time. I managed to get out from under him - get through the car again - when I felt his fingers dragging down my back, trying to find another hold. There was another stab of pain in my lower back but I kept going. I knew that if I didn't get out, I'd be eaten alive right there in my car. My groceries would get all bloody and dinner would be ruined." She let out a small mirthless laugh, "Silly isn't it?"

More tears splashed on Powell's hand and he squeezed reassuringly; he wasn't sure if he completely believed Roslyn's story... no, he believed her - he just didn't want to.

"I fell out the other side of the car and kicked the door closed behind me. I think I was already going into shock at that point. I got to my feet and starred into the car - into my son's face; but it wasn't my son... not really. It was his body clawing at the window sure, but my sweet little boy was gone. His eyes were cloudy and white. He had part of his neck torn out and his mouth was filled with blood and skin - my blood... my skin..." another sob burst out, and Roslyn's small body shook. Powell wanted to tell her to stop. Tell her he didn't want to hear more but knew she wasn't done.

Roslyn took another shuddering breath and continued with her story. "I noticed movement behind me in the window's reflection. I turned and saw old Mrs. Demarsh stumbling around the corner of my house. I think I gasped when I saw her blood covered nightgown and that her arm was missing below her elbow. She stopped when she saw me, and her belly puffed up. It was so strange. Then she moaned." Roslyn shuddered as if recalling the sound. "It was the most horrible, unnatural moan I've ever heard. I heard Peter moan in the car and then there were more moans coming from the surrounding houses. It was like Mrs. Demarsh rang the dinner bell and everyone was coming for the feast. I knew I couldn't stay there but I didn't know where to go. Thankfully I noticed a car idling in the street. The door was open and so I ran to it and jumped in. I didn't look back as I turned around and drove away." Roslyn ran a hand over her face, leaving a bloody streak on her cheek. "I wasn't sure where I was going to go until I saw the station. You know the rest."

Powell wasn't sure what to say once Roslyn finished her story. Only then did he notice Lewis standing down the hall; eyes wide and his dark skin unnaturally pale. "I'll be right back Roslyn." Powell squeezed her hand once, before pulling it from her iron grip.

"Don't leave me," Roslyn half shrieked. She clutched at Powell's uniform, looking up at him with fear.

"I'm just going to go talk to my partner." He spoke slowly as he motioned towards Lewis, "I'll be right back with some first aid supplies to clean your side and back. Will you be okay for two minutes? You'll be able to see me the whole time. I promise." Roslyn nodded, slowly releasing her grip on his uniform. Once free from her clutches, he hurried over to Lewis who handed him the first aid kit. "How much of her story did you hear?" He asked in a low voice, not wanting Roslyn to overhear him.

"Enough," Lewis croaked.

"Did you call an ambulance?"

Lewis nodded, casting wary glances over Powell's shoulder to where Roslyn sat. "No one's coming though."

Powell frowned. "What do you mean no one's coming?" he hissed.

Lewis looked as if he were about to hurl. "There was a disturbance at the hospital. They called in and requested several officers to be sent over. A woman apparently came in, went into cardiac arrest and then started biting people." Lewis lowered his voice to a whisper as he leaned towards Powell, "They told dispatch that there were a lot more patients biting people now and they needed help controlling them. They sent over three units and when they stopped responding to dispatch, they sent another four units in riot gear to see what was going on. They've lost contact with those units as well."

"What the hell is going on?" Powell growled. "What are we supposed to do with her?" he jerked his head back towards Roslyn who sat crying silently.

Lewis shrugged. "Clean her up, bandage her wounds as best we can and put her in a conference room until they figure out what's happening." Powell sighed; his hot shower would have to wait. "There's one other thing... and you aren't going to like it."

Powell scrubbed his hands over his face. He was supposed to be off duty and they were sending him back out. He wasn't happy with the turn in events, but overtime was often part of the job. "Give it to me." He motioned in a 'bring it on' gesture with his hand.

"There are two paramedics who responded to a call early this afternoon in Pecan Valley. They haven't returned. With all the confusion at the hospital, no one's reported them missing until just now. They've asked us to head over there and see what's going on."

"Did you just say Pecan Valley?" Roslyn called from her seat behind Powell; Lewis nodded. "That's where I live... Swan Forest, just off of Southeast Drive. That's where everyone's gone crazy. Will you go and find my daughter? Will you keep her safe and bring her to me?" Roslyn's eyes were pleading with Powell; how could he say no to a woman who's been through so much already.