Pandora (Book 5): Behold A Pale Horse Read online

“I should go and try to find her,” Patrick blurted out.

  “Pat –” Mike started.

  “She may be hurt,” Patrick said.

  “Patrick,” Mike said, “listen to me.” He took a deep breath. “I hate to be the guy to point this out, but you know Anne had Pandora. You know what happens to all the previous victims of it. I’m sorry if this sounds cold, but you have Dwayne and Erica. What would happen to them if you go looking for her and get killed? Or infected, also? You know that they’re saying now that if you get bitten by one of them, you’ll get it, too. And it’s fatal. Period.”

  Patrick sat in silence. Although he knew exactly what Mike was saying, he just couldn’t process Anne in that mixture.

  “Pat,” Mike continued, “you know I’m right. You can’t take the risk of leaving your kids all alone to fend for themselves. You have to think of the big picture.”

  Patrick put his head back and closed his eyes. His brain was spinning. Taking a long, calming breath, he responded, “Okay, Mike. Okay. You’re… you’re right. I can’t leave my kids, and I couldn’t take them with me. It’s too dangerous right now.”

  “We’ll wait and see how this plays out, Pat,” Mike said, relieved. “Oh, by the way, I talked to mom just before. She’s safe for now.”

  “Good,” replied Patrick.

  “And another thing, Pat,” Mike said. “If this all pans out the way I think it’s going to, I want to talk to you about driving down to our house in Jersey.”

  “I think it’s a little early for that,” said Patrick. “Why?”

  “Remember when I bought the house eight years ago? And I found that fallout shelter on the grounds? Well, I’ve been fixing it out. I stored a bunch of stuff in there, just in case.”

  Patrick chuckled, “I don’t know if I’m ready to go and live in an underground bunker just yet, Mike. Like you said, we’ll see how this all plays out. I’ve been meaning to ask, how’s Randy doing? Have you heard anything?”

  Randy was Mike and Samantha’s son. He was twenty-two and in the Army. His last posting was in Germany, outside of Bremen.

  “The last time I talked to him, he was gearing up to leave,” Mike said. “He said that it was an absolute clusterfuck on base. He told me that so many of his battalion came down with the mutated Pandora that he wound up fighting them. He told me that in private, as the military have hushed up the fact of how many men they’ve lost in Europe, and especially in Asia. That last time I spoke to him, he said that they’ve lost contact with a large number of Southeast Asian US bases.”

  “Shit,” said Patrick, shaking his head in disbelief.

  “Turn on the news,” Mike said. “Things are getting way out of hand. Listen, Sam needs me for some things here. I’ll talk to you again. Stay safe, Pat.”

  “You, too, Mike,” said Patrick. “Give Sam my love.”

  After their goodbyes, Patrick did turn on the news. The first thing he saw was a newscast from Paris. They were televising from what looked like a basement. The video showed a body lying on a board, laid over a table. The reporter was telling how the man lying dead on the table had been bitten and died. The several people in the basement seemed to all be waiting for something. The camera remained focused on the corpse.

  Then, right in the middle of the reporter’s remarks, the body twitched. And then it twitched again. Its fingers began to curl and uncurl as the head moved. The corpse then groaned and opened its eyes. The audio ramped up as everyone in the room gasped and commented. Then the dead man turned his head to look at the camera. With a snarl, he started to rise. At first he moved with great difficulty, but soon was able to stand. His milky eyes gazed about the room. He leaned forward and started to viciously snarl, when the picture wobbled, then went dark as a shot sounded.

  As Patrick stared at the screen, the anchor came on and said, “He was dead. He was dead, then reanimated: getting up and walking. This has been happening to all previous survivors of the so-called Pandora virus.” Patrick switched channels.

  “… to all victims of the previous virus –” Click

  “… I repeat, if you come into contact with one of the reanimated victims and are bitten, you too, will become infect –” Click

  “… Prime Minister of Great Britain has declared a national emergency and is requesting all –” Click

  “… two hundred and fifty-six people killed this morning in an airline crash outside of Memphis, Tennessee –” Click

  Patrick finally stopped on a channel showing a debate between a doctor and a novelist. It had already disintegrated into a shouting match. The word zombie was continually batted about between them. He turned the volume down and called Erica’s cell phone number. She picked up after two rings.

  “Daddy,” she said.

  “It’s me, sweetheart,” he said, “are you all right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I’m okay, but, Daddy; you can’t believe what’s happening out here. Oh my God, it’s just craziness.”

  Patrick got up and paced the floor anxiously as she told him about the George Washington Bridge, LaShawn, the hospital, the people on the roads and finally the attempted carjacking at the gas station. Her increasingly anguished account made his heart race.

  “I’m just so glad to hear your voice,” she said. “Is mom there? Can I speak to her?”

  “Uh, she’s not home yet,” answered Patrick. “She’s out picking up some things.”

  “Oh,” Erica said, disappointed.

  Wanting to change the subject, Patrick asked, “When do you think you’re going to be home?”

  “I guess we should be getting there in around an hour, maybe more. Hard to tell with what has been going on.”

  “Okay,” said Patrick, “get home as soon as you can, sweetheart.”

  “I will, Daddy,” she said. “I’m going to turn my phone off for now. The battery is getting a bit low and I want to conserve power. I’ll call right before we get there, okay?”

  “Okay, Erica. Be careful,” her dad said.

  § § §

  The rest of the trip home was fortunately not as hazardous as the previous passage was. Twice, there were detours they had to work around and once a zombie walked out in the road as they neared home. Jason had to veer around it. As he did, the creature spun in confusion trying to grasp the moving automobile.

  But the most awful, most horrific sight they saw was the school bus they had wound up behind when they first turned off of the highway. They had left the highway and took local roads the rest of the way. The yellow school bus with Milford School Board stenciled on the side had pulled out in front of them. As they drove behind it for the first mile, they noticed the students in the back start to become unruly. Jason was looking for the first opportunity to pass the bus, when the amber lights started flashing in the back. The school bus slowed, and then stopped. The lights turned red and the stop sign sprung out from the side.

  As they watched, the sounds of shouting and screaming started. Looking on in horror, they could see boys and girls fighting in the center aisle. A splat of red splashed on the back window. Teenagers started running from the now open doors of the school bus. They were dropping their belongings as they ran. Most had seemed terrified and were bloodied.

  Greta screamed as one boy started pounding on the glass of the rear windows and shouting. He kept looking behind him. Then a girl jumped on him from behind and they both fell. Jason tried to back up but there was a car behind him. He kept pounding the horn while creeping back in increments. The other driver, finally aware of what was going on, backed all the way up and turned around with a screech of tires.

  Jason was about to put his foot on the gas when a young girl banged on the hood of his car. Spinning his head to look, he saw a tall girl with wavy, red hair snarling at him. Her mouth was smeared with gore. A long runnel of bloody saliva hung from her curled lips as her milky white eyes stared into his. Terrified, Jason hit the gas in the Camaro backed up fifteen feet before he hit the brakes. Th
is caused the girl to stumble forward. Her hands curled into claws and she growled loudly, mouth opened wide. She started running toward the Camaro when Jason put the shift into drive and floored it. He hit her as she attacked the car. Flying back, she hit the rear of the bus and bounced off, landing on her face in the street. Veering around, he sped away.

  Erica gaped wide-eyed as they passed and saw two kids ripping at the bus driver, still buckled into his seat.

  By now, they were almost home. Erica was glad she had talked to her father, but still had a nagging feeling that something was not right. Still, she grabbed Greta’s hand and squeezed it.

  “We’ll soon be safely at my house, Greta,” she said reassuringly. “Don’t worry.”

  As they neared closer to home, they could still see families hurriedly packing their vehicles. Some of the family members didn’t look well. As they turned onto the main street of their town, they had to detour once again. The street was blocked off by the police and fire trucks. It seemed that the local diner was on fire. Flames shot out from the old building as the fire company was trying to keep it under control. Disconcertingly, Erica saw five bodies; three on the street and two on the sidewalk. They weren’t burned, but appeared to have been shot. That was when they noticed that the policemen standing guard were all heavily armed.

  Ten minutes later, Jason pulled up in front of Erica’s house. As they were taking their belongings from the trunk, the front door opened and Patrick appeared. Seeing him, Erica ran up and hugged him tightly as he stepped onto the walkway. After a warm and tearful embrace, they went back to Jason’s car.

  “This is my friend from school, Greta Steiner,” Erica said, introducing her to Patrick. They shook hands briefly and then Patrick gave her a hug.

  “Welcome, Greta,” he said warmly.

  Patrick then went over to Jason. He gave him a smile and held out his hand. “Thank you for keeping my daughter safe, Jason. I owe you a large debt.”

  “That’s okay, Mr. Shannon,” Jason said. “No problem.”

  “Rough trip?” Patrick asked.

  “The worst,” said Jason. “You wouldn’t believe what we saw.”

  Patrick nodded soberly, “I think I would. Do you want to come inside? Maybe get a bite to eat?”

  “No,” said Jason smiling, “no, thank you. I want to get home to my folks. I’m worried.”

  Patrick put his hand on his shoulder and said quietly, “Listen, Jason, if you run into any trouble on the road and can’t make it there, or if you find you need somewhere to go, you can always come back here. You’re welcome any time.”

  Jason nodded, suddenly choked up and got back into his Camaro. Waving at everyone, he continued on up the road. As he came to the corner, he paused at the stop sign. Looking around, he noticed a man sitting on the porch stairs of the corner house. He had a rifle lying across his legs and his hands resting on top. His white shirt and face was splattered with blood droplets. The man didn’t move; he just sat there looking straight ahead with a vacant stare. He seemed to be catatonic, as if in shock. As a shiver ran down his spine, Jason turned the corner and headed for home.

  Jason made it home without much trouble after dropping off Erica and Greta. He turned into his street and then up the driveway of his parent’s large home. Hearing him arrive, his parents, Carl and Rachel stepped outside.

  Jason was already walking up the path carrying his belongings when they ran over and hugged warmly; all three relieved that he was finally home.

  “Oh, I was so worried about you,” his mother said, giving him a kiss.

  His father put an arm around his shoulders and said, “It’s good to have you home, son.”

  They went inside and Rachel fixed him something to eat. They sat at the dinner table while Jason told them all about the arduous trip home.

  §§ §

  Patrick and the two girls entered their house. Dwayne was downstairs and gave his sister a hug as she entered. She introduced him to Greta.

  Dwayne turned to his father and said, “Billy is asleep on my bed.”

  “Let him sleep,” said Patrick. “Why don’t you show Greta the spare room, Erica, and let her get settled in. Then come down and we’ll fix us all something to eat.”

  “Aren’t we going to wait for mom to come home?” Erica asked.

  Patrick grinned painfully and said,” Get Greta settled in and then come downstairs.”

  Erica raised an eyebrow at the cryptic answer, but said, “Okay, Dad. I’ll be right down.”

  Looking at his watch, Patrick was surprised to see that it was already six o’clock in the evening. He led Dwayne into the large kitchen and they started bringing out food from the refrigerator. Patrick was taking down plates and glasses from the cupboards when Erica entered. Patrick said, “Have a seat at the kitchen table, guys. We need to talk.”

  When they were all seated, Patrick leaned forward and held the hands of his children sitting on each side of him. Steeling himself, he started, “I’m glad that you’re both here now. You both unfortunately got to see some awful things today. I know that you both understand what is going on in the world with this Pandora virus and the mutation that they say is happening.” Patrick looked into their eyes. He wanted to cry but forced himself not to. “You know that this is happening in our country now, and that it is affecting all of the people who had Pandora before.” They nodded again, now looking extremely fearful as they knew where he was headed.

  Patrick’s voice got raspy at the next sentence. “And you also know that your mother had Pandora, too.”

  Erica, eyes brimming, said, “Dad, where is Mom?”

  Fighting hard, Patrick shook his head. “She didn’t come home. We both needed to go out and get supplies today…but she didn’t come back. I called her phone over and over but she’s not answering.”

  “But, she’s out there,” Dwayne choked out. “We have to find her. She’s out there somewhere.”

  His eyes now brimming too, Patrick looked at his kids. Erica had her hand to her mouth and was shaking her head as tears ran down her face.

  “Dad… no,” was all she could say.

  Hanging his head down, Patrick said, “Billy Dwyer is staying here now. Both of his parents had Pandora when it first appeared. Just like your mom. I went over to check on them and they both had turned. Whatever it is that’s happening to these people, happened to them. They’re both… I don’t know what. Infected? Reanimated? Zombies? I… I don’t know.”

  “But, we have to find out about mom,” Dwayne pleaded. “We have to know. Don’t we?”

  “If there was any way, any way at all, she would come back home,” Patrick said. “If she could find a way –”

  “We can’t abandon her,” Dwayne yelled.

  “We’re not abandoning her,” Patrick said a little too loudly. His kids sat back frightened.

  Tears running down his cheeks, Patrick said softly, “We’re not abandoning her. We wouldn’t do that. I wouldn’t do that. But we know the reality of what’s happening and what’s out there.” He looked at his children. “If I go searching for her, and something happens to me… What then? I’m not certain exactly where she is. I don’t know how long it would take to look for her. What if I get bitten? You will be all alone. I can’t let that happen. I can’t risk your safety.”

  Both children rushed to him and they all embraced. They cried until there were no more tears.

  As night fell, they all made dinner. Greta came down and helped. By the time everything was on the table, Billy had awakened and made his way to the dining room. They all ate quietly, the conversation muted. After dinner they sat in the living. Dwayne turned on the television and they all sat and watched the world change before them. They realized what they were watching but were still too numb to react.

  Sunday…

  While all in the Shannon household slept (a fitful sleep though it was), the Pandora 2 Mutation was continuing its devastating wave across the country. By now the entire country, and h
ence the entire world, was consumed by the zombie apocalypse. The virus’s mutation became symptomatic differently in different people. Whether it was the severity of symptoms in the onset of the first Pandora virus, the strength in constitution of an individual’s immune system or just plain luck of the draw, the time it took for the mutation to fully take effect differed in each person. Although a few did succumb to the virus in the United States on Friday, the majority of Pandora victims turned during the long Saturday. The rest, mostly on the West Coast, would be reinfected by Sunday, and at the end of the weekend the effects of the Pandora 2 Mutation would be complete. It was now a worldwide pandemic.

  The national quarantine of Pandora victims proved to be a day late. While still taking place, its belatedness caused different towns and cities to make on-the-fly changes in its implementation. Some communities continued to try and keep everything on track with the original recommendations. But what was intended to be a controlled culling of the sick from the uninfected, turned into urban warfare. The quarantine’s eventual demise was really a combination of many things. The most obvious was of course the miscalculated timing of the event, but other factors contributed also. Many people, hearing of the quarantine prematurely (through a leak from the White House to a reporter), elected to take their sick family members and try to whisk them out of the area. They assumed that they could return in a day or two. Despite continuing news broadcasts and frightening videos from overseas, most average Americans couldn’t quite absorb the reality of the dead rising and attacking the living. The jingoistic zeitgeist was that it just couldn’t happen here. The combination of those two alone meant that the police officers and national guardsmen calling on the residents from their lists would most likely find either no one home or zombies on the other side of the door.