Quarantine: A Pandora Novel Page 12

  The man looked around frantically and completely disoriented. Looking down at the bloody white bone sticking horrifyingly out of his leg, he screamed again, then passed out.

  Meanwhile, Austin yanked open the door to the Humvee. The driver was shaking his head groggily, but looked at Austin and said, “I’m okay. Check the rest.”

  The back door opened and Jermaine and the other soldier jumped out unsteadily. Austin rushed over and placed a hand on his buddy’s shoulder.

  “Damn Jer, are you all right?”

  Giving Austin a backslapping hug Jermaine said, “Yeah, yeah, I’m good. Man, that was intense.”

  “Jesus,” said Austin, “your name is Jermaine Willis, not Bruce Willis. Enough with the movie stunts.”

  Jermaine chuckled as the driver came up to them. “Shit,” he said spitting out a mouthful of blood to the side, “that that damn car came out of nowhere.” Putting his fingers to his mouth and pulling them back bloody, he spat again and muttered, “Damn, I must’ve bit my tongue.”

  The third soldier in the truck removed her helmet and shook her curly brown hair. Looking at the two damaged Humvees and then walking back a few feet to look over the scattered vehicles, she called back over her shoulder.

  “Hey, guys? I see a ginormous amount of zombies heading this way. Make up your mind what we’re doing fast.”

  While that group converged to discuss what to do with the injured driver of the civilian vehicle, Cpl. Dean DeLuca, the driver of the first vehicle was standing in the open door of the Humvee with his rifle resting on the roof. He moved it slowly back and forth covering the rest of the men. He was so intent on concentrating on the surrounding areas, that he had at first missed the sound. This time it was louder. A low moan, then a rumbling growl. Dean took his eye from the gunsight and frowned in uncertainty. What the--? he thought.

  Now he heard it again, this time realizing the growling voice was coming from inside the vehicle. For a few precious seconds, the location didn’t register. Then he gasped, “The sergeant!”

  Inside the interior of the military vehicle the gravely wounded sergeant had lost consciousness from massive blood loss soon after entering. During the chaotic drive around the square and then down the city streets, he had died of his wounds. As he laid there unmoving, the alien virus was doing its nefarious work inside his brain and vital systems. Now reanimated, he turned his head seeking the one thing the virus had programmed him for. And that was seeking victims to bite, infect and spread the heinous disease.

  Seeing Dean’s body standing outside the open door, the newly turned revenant growled, then lifted his body up and crawled across the back of the Humvee into the driver seat. Dean had just bent down to look inside, when the sergeant bared his teeth and shot out of the open door. He latched onto Dean’s now exposed throat. The two bodies tumbled to the street.

  Gurgling loudly, Dean tried to push the zombie away with one hand while he struggled to find his combat knife with the other. Dean’s rifle still rested on top of the roof. The terrified corporal found the hilt of his weapon as the ghoul darted his head in again. Teeth tearing, he severed the jugular vein of the bucking soldier.

  Hearing the commotion, Austin ran over to the two men. The zombiefied sergeant snapped his head around and bared his gore stained teeth at him. As he started to rise, Austin raised his M-16 and put around through his head. Then, running over and kneeling next to the dying driver he looked on in helpless rage. The pale, gurgling man reached out one blood-soaked hand and grabbed the barrel of Austin’s rifle. As Austin watched in fear and dismay, the soldier pulled the barrel over and put it against his head. He tried to speak but could only cough spouts of red blood out of his filling mouth.

  Austin looked in his eyes and nodded his head in understanding. The soldier weakly let go of the rifle and closed his eyes as he painfully continued to gag and cough. Standing up now, the reluctant but determined guardsmen pointed the M-16 at the dying man and, wincing, pulled the trigger sending a bullet into his brain.

  As Austin trotted back, he suddenly felt exhausted and totally spent. After agreeing quickly, the group carefully lifted the injured driver out of the wreckage and, placing him in a stretcher, carried him back down the ramp to the parking garage. Fortunately the man remained unconscious. There was an elevator in back of the attendant’s booth in the basement and they press the button to go up. The door pinged open and everyone aimed their rifles into the opening doors. Relieved at finding it empty, they all crowded in and pressed the button to rise, just as the mob of zombies reached the front of the garage at street level.

  They took the elevator to the top floor which was the roof level. They carry the driver out and upon setting him down propped open the door with a heavy cement cigarette butt receptacle. The roof was empty of any other people, living or dead. The five weary soldiers of the “Fighting 69th” slumped down against the wall. Either closing their eyes to rest or grabbing water to hydrate, they all sat in silent repose as they tried to somehow understand what the hell had just happened to them.

  13

  “Dad?” PJ said.

  “PJ,” his father spoke, “are you all right?”

  “Yeah, Dad, I’m fine.”

  “You’re not still in New York City are you?” his father Thomas asked.

  “Yeah, Dad,” PJ answered. “We’re kind of stuck here. But don’t worry, we’re all safe.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Thomas Jordan exhaled.

  “What’s happening back in Jersey?” asked PJ.

  “It’s a nightmare,” his father remarked. “This morning the police came around with some soldiers. National Guard, I think. They were enforcing this quarantine that’s now taking place. They stopped next door and took Ray Moore from his house. He was put in a truck with a bunch of other people. Then they went to the Hanek’s, the Brown’s, the Palumbo’s and brought everybody out that had previously had the Pandora virus. It was horrible. You remember when old Mr. and Mrs. Palumbo were hospitalized and we took care of their two dogs, Lucy and Desi. When the police were taking them out, Connie Palumbo must have passed out. She collapsed on the front lawn and they wouldn’t let her husband Frank even try to get to her. They held that poor old man back as two soldiers picked her body up like trash and took her away. Why, your mother couldn’t even watch, it was so sad.

  “Jerry Goldsmith, across the street, told me that around the corner on Nash Avenue the police had entered a house there and had actually shot the people inside. I tried calling Cousin Julie, because I knew she was sick a few weeks ago, but there’s been no answer at her house for the last few hours.”

  “Jesus, Dad,” said PJ shaking his head, “that’s awful. Do you have enough food there?”

  “Your mother did her weekly grocery shopping yesterday, so we’re all stocked up.”

  PJ heard his mom in the background yell, “You’d think a hurricane was coming, it was so crowded in there.”

  “Listen PJ,” his father spoke, “Jerry Goldsmith is at the front door again, I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you again, bye.”

  “Okay, talk to you soon, Dad.”

  Disconnecting, PJ put his head back in the chair and tried to relax. As glad as he was to hear his parents were safe and sound, it did nothing to alleviate the fact that he was stuck in some apartment in the city and there were freaking zombies roaming the goddamn streets. And it was now two o’clock in the afternoon with no word from his best friend for four and a half hours.

  Mora came over and placed her hand on his cheek. “How are your folks?” she asked.

  “They’re still okay,” he answered morosely.

  “Still no word from mine,” she sighed. “I can’t even get a connection there. Sucks!”

  Just then there was a noise from the hall and Amy and Rick walked in looking tired and frazzled. Everyone ran to them, relieved and excited. Eileen started to cry while holding tightly onto Rick. Nemeeka held Amy and they both kept repeating how much they missed each othe
r, while they sniffled in each other’s ear.

  After the warm and tearful reunion, Nemeeka brought out some beers, which were mightily appreciated by Rick and Amy. They then told the gathered audience of their horrendous trip to the grocery store. The others couldn’t believe the close calls they had experienced in getting to the store and back home again.

  “My God,” murmured PJ, “I didn’t think the Zompox was as bad as it is.”

  Taking a long, cold swing from his bottle, Rick brought it down and said questioningly, “Zompox? What the hell’s a Zompox?”

  Waving his hand around, PJ explained with a slight smile, “This. All of this. The whole apocalypse thing going down here.” As Rick and Amy looked at him as if he were crazy, PJ continued. “There was some pundit on the television earlier and he coined the phrase. He said it was a portmanteau. Blending multiple words together to get a new word. You know, zombie- apocalypse- pox becomes Zompox.”

  PJ had a wide, innocent smile as Rick looked at him with a pained expression. “Yeah, cute.”

  “Well, I thought it was kinda cool,” an embarrassed PJ mumbled in rebuke.

  “Why don’t you take it outside and try it out,” Rick said, jumping up in a burst of anger. “See how that works for you out there.”

  PJ turned away confused and hurt. Eileen hugged Rick and said softly, “Hey, take it easy. It’s all right. PJ didn’t mean anything by that.”

  Rick sat back down and took another sip of beer. Looking down and nodding he mumbled, “I know, I’m sorry. Today just got to me.”

  Looking up at Eileen, and then glancing at Amy and PJ, Rick said, “I have never had to do anything like that before. I… I can’t believe what’s happening out there.” Dropping his head back down and shaking it slowly, he stated, “We are all so fucked.”

  After a minute of uncomfortable silence, Nemeeka asked aloud, “Did you hear helicopters when you were out in the streets?”

  Grabbing her hand and holding it warmly, Amy told her, “Yes. In fact, we actually saw them flying overhead. They were definitely military and I could see soldiers in the open doorways.”

  Nodding his head with her, Rick said, “She’s right. And I think they were responsible for most of that humongous amount of gunfire we heard through the city earlier.”

  “There were some heavy vehicle noises, too,” said Amy. “Not tanks, but some kind of army trucks or something. I could hear motors racing.”

  “Do you think that troops have landed?” asked Mora. “They said they were going to be bringing all the entire military forces home from overseas. Maybe it was some of them?”

  “You heard that?” said Rick.

  “Yes,” answered Nemeeka, “they announced that earlier. They revoked the Posse Comitatus Act and are going to bring our soldiers back so they could destroy all of the zombies in the United States.”

  “Holy shit,” Rick whistled.

  Mora and Nemeeka were right. The president had announced in the special newscast that the Act would be temporarily revoked. The idea was to use the returning military to mount a campaign to eliminate the escalating zombie menace and restore order. The military would be gradually relieved of the security portion of their duties by the augmentation of the existing local and state police forces as soon as they were reorganized and able to. The thought was to also fill out the ranks with a “volunteer” force of able-bodied and former military civilians. The devastation of the Pandora virus had decimated the ranks of troops the same as it had the general population. In fact, those personnel stationed overseas in Asia and some of the Middle East nations had taken more than the standard thirty percent mortality rates. Just as the indigenous populations there had.

  United together again, the six diverse inhabitants of the apartment huddled in front of the television as the afternoon rolled into the evening. They sat in front of the electronic glow sipping beer and watching the end of the world in living color.

  The orange fireball of the Sunday sun began to set in the western sky ending the weekend. The United States as well as the whole of the North and South American continents were now entirely permuted by the second stage Pandora 2 Mutation. The rampant chaos caused by the rapid vicissitude of the altered virus was felt in all communities and in every society. No one and nothing was left untouched. Like New York City, all of the large metropolitan areas were hit the hardest. The sheer congestion of people living in such close proximity to one another made the likelihood of finding zombie free areas virtually impossible. There was absolutely nowhere to run. The outlying metropolitan area suburbs were suburban only in concept. That conceit had ended long ago when the surrounding communities that satellited around the large cities themselves became a congested hive of humanity.

  Looking down the street from the roof of the parking garage they were resting on, Austin leaned out to see both ways down this quiet street. Shaking his head and chuckling ironically, he thought, 42nd Street…. a quiet street. Jesus, who would have believed those words would ever go together?

  The lights in the city were still on and working. Although with businesses being closed, the amounts of neon and bright lights were greatly reduced. The lack of people and traffic on the Great White Way made the place seem otherworldly. Cars would still occasionally be seen or heard revving through the adjacent streets, but they were the anomalies now in an increasingly undead city.

  The last of the dusky light in the sky was just about gone. Noticing a bit of furtive movement down the street, Austin leaned over to look. There appeared to be several families moving from doorway to doorway. Watching them stealthily slip from cover to cover, Austin could see a couple of frightened children among the group. He wanted to call down to them and tell them to come inside the garage. But he noticed several zombies shuffling about the street and didn’t want to call attention to the fleeing families nor to himself. Suddenly, a menacing snarl sounded from the end of the block. In the reflected lights, he could see a number of undead stop and turn toward the families. Realizing that they had now been spotted, the group gave up all pretext of stealth and ran terrified down the middle of the street. The undead’s snarling and moaning was picked up by nearby creatures as they all began to chase the fleeing people down the wide street.

  Austin felt Jermaine come up beside him, and they both watched horrified as the families ran for their lives. The children amongst them were having a difficult time. Either too small to keep up or too afraid to move, they was slowing the group down. The smaller children were picked up by their parents and carried along, but the bigger kids were dragged along by the hand. Some of the adults flatly ran headlong down the street heedless of the children’s plight.

  All of this was bringing the pursuing zombies closer and closer to their prey. When one of the children fell in the street and lay there crying unnoticed by the group, Austin brought his rifle up and sighted the nearest zombie. Jermaine brought his hand up and grabbed Austin’s shoulder. One of the group below, now aware of the struggling child, stopped and ran back. The man reached the little girl, scooped her up and turned to run. A zombie had just emerged from one of the storefronts and headed unseen toward the two people. Looking on in dread, Austin shrugged off his friend’s staying hand and quickly sighted on the zombie and fired.

  Not three feet away from the oblivious victims, the zombie’s head exploded in a corona of red mist. They momentarily froze in confusion, and then ran after their companions.

  “Aw, shit,” Jermaine muttered, “we’re in it now.”

  Placing his rifle to his shoulder, he joined Austin in helping to pick off the nearest of the zombies. Hopefully now, the families had a fighting chance of escaping. The three other soldiers, having heard the gunfire, ran over to the wall to join their comrades in killing the undead. Like a shooting gallery, they were taking single shots to bring the undead down. It was almost cathartic.

  While the fleeing families disappeared into the night, the zombies that continued to enter the street now turned to a p
rey that it could see and hear. At first they crowded in front of the garage and snarled up at the soldiers. Then, as if in an epiphany, started streaming through the ramps and into the parking garage itself.

  As he stopped firing and watched in growing horror, Jeff mumbled, “Oh great! Now we’re really screwed.”

  Turning to the others, the girl (who they now knew as Private Leslie Bach) said, “I thought I saw a door to the next building on the way up.”

  “Great,” Austin said. “Nice work. Let’s go.”

  The five soldiers ran from the roof ledge and grabbed the stretcher to carry it down to the next level where Leslie saw the door. The minute they grabbed and lifted it, the man started to scream again.

  “Oh my God, my leg! My leg!” he cried.

  As he screamed and writhed on the stretcher, Jermaine leaned over him and hissed in his face, “Shut up.”

  The man ignored him and continued to scream out. They could now hear the sound of multiple feet rushing up the winding ramp toward them. Grabbing the man around the collar, Jermaine pulled him to his face and, spittle flying, growled, “You keep that fucking noise up and we’ll leave you here for the zombies.”

  That shut him up and they rushed down the ramp to the next floor. Looking over the ledge as they ran they could see the zombies rushing up to meet them. At the next level they saw the door at the near end. As they ran to the door carrying the bouncing stretcher, the wounded man had his sleeve in his tightly clenched teeth to stifle his cries. They reached the door that said Taylor Building and Austin held it open as they all ran in. Running through at the end of the line, he turned and locked the door. They continued on down a fluorescent lit corridor. They were four floors up.