Pandora (Book 5): Behold A Pale Horse Page 16

  “When the doors burst open, we all ran to the elevators. By the time the elevator doors finally opened they were upon us. Several of us were able to get in, but it was horrific. We were pushing them out, but every time the doors closed, they hit the arms of the infected reaching in and opened again. Luckily, I was jammed into the back of the elevator; because a few people inside were dragged out before we could get the doors fully closed.”

  “Sweet Jesus, Mom,” Patrick gasped, “that’s unbelievable. It’s so horrible. Are you all right? Did you get hurt?”

  “No, no, I’m fine,” she said. “But we can’t get to the lobby anymore. It’s full of them. We even have the elevator locked. There is going to be another meeting in a half hour to discuss our alternatives. Some people have suggested going down to the parking garage and trying to get out that way. The gate is down so maybe it will be clear.” Patrick could hear whistling in the background. “Oh, my tea is ready, Patrick. I have two friends staying here with me. They both lived on the second floor and didn’t feel safe there. I have room so they’re staying with me for now. I’ll talk to you later, son. We’re going to have a cup of strong tea and then get to the meeting.”

  “Okay, Mom,” Patrick said, “I’m glad that you are safe for now. Please call me back after the meeting. I want to know what was said.”

  “All right, I will, Patrick. Talk to you soon.” They both hung up.

  Patrick’s mother turned to her two guests.

  “I made some tea for us,” she said, standing up. “But before we do that, Lillian, help Janet into the bathroom. I think we should take a look at that nasty wound. My, that is a terrible looking bite mark. We should try and stop the bleeding. Don’t worry Janet, we’ll put some Neosporin on it and get bandaged up quickly.”

  §§ §

  After talking to his mother about her neighbors’ disastrous supermarket run, Patrick went into the kitchen and pantry to make a list of all their food supplies. After counting everything they had, he looked very disappointed. When they initially did their shopping, they hadn’t counted on two more people to feed. Even if they rationed, which they now would have to, he doubted that they had more than a couple of weeks’ worth of food to last them. He knew by now the supermarkets and grocery stores would probably have been picked clean. Besides, making that trip was too dangerous. The closest market was a couple of miles away. That was when he had an idea.

  Patrick got a couple of heavy-duty, black plastic garbage bags. He still had Billy’s house key. He told the kids where he was going. Billy said that they also stored extra cases of water and soda in the garage. He loaded his pistol again and put it in his waistband.

  Seeing the street empty, he ran across the road and into the Dwyer house. He had his phone so that they could call him if there was any trouble outside. Patrick walked into the kitchen. He opened every cabinet and cupboard. He piled all he took out onto the kitchen table. With everything then in front of him, he sorted out what was usable and placed these into one of the large trash bags. He left out very little. That done, he walked over to the door leading into the garage. Placing his hand on the doorknob, he paused. This is not going to be easy, he thought. Then, opening the door, he stepped down into the garage. Not being air conditioned, the air was warm and sticky. The bodies of Steve and Stephanie Dwyer were laid out exactly where he had left them. A flap of rug had partially slid from the bodies. His nose twitched as he could already smell the rank odor coming from the bodies. Spotting the cases he was looking for stacked along the side, he walked past the rug. A couple of flies flew off the bodies, and then landed back again.

  Patrick quickly hauled the cases out of the garage, stacking them outside the door. He was winded, as he had held his breath the entire time. Finally finished, he walked out and closed the door behind him. He let out a rush of air, bending over and placing his hands on his knees. Then taking long, slow gulps of air, he caught his breath. Looking down at his haul, he counted three cases of water and one case of Diet 7UP. Excellent, he thought.

  He then went to the refrigerator and looked inside. He took almost everything from there, and also from the freezer. These, he put in another trash bag. Feeling a bit like an intruder, he ran upstairs and into the master bath. From the medicine cabinet he took out aspirin, antibiotics, Band-Aids and anything else he thought necessary. These he stuffed into a pillowcase he took from the bed. Then, remembering the past conversation with Steve, he went back downstairs and into the kitchen again. He stood there looking around until he spotted a white, ceramic cookie jar. Walking over, he took the top off and reached inside. Patrick pulled out a wad of cash. This was Steve and Steph’s “just in case” money. It was just about a hundred dollars in small bills. Patrick didn’t know if he would need it, but knowing that walking into his Bank of America branch and making a withdrawal was no longer an option, he figured anything helped. Picking up the two filled trash bags, Patrick walked to the door. Stepping out, he carried them across the street and deposited them inside his front door. Running back, he did the same thing again with the four cases.

  They spent the next hour stocking the new provisions away. Taking a beer from the refrigerator, Patrick sat in the living room and spent the rest of the day and night getting depressed watching the news programs.

  § § §

  In the adjoining den, Dwayne, Erica, Billy and Greta were sitting together with a bag of chips.

  “All I’m saying,” Dwayne said, “is that we have to do our part now. Pull our own weight.”

  “I agree,” said Erica. “I… I don’t want to be babysitted. We’re all old enough to take care of ourselves. It’s not like we’re ten years old.”

  “You’re right, Erica,” said Billy, “I’m only here because your dad took me in. We’re like family now.”

  “Okay,” said Dwayne, “tomorrow morning we confront our father and explain our position. We just can’t let him bear the entire burden.”

  “Agreed,” Erica and Billy said.

  Erica looked at Greta and said, “You’ve been silent. Where are you feeling?”

  Greta sat collecting her thoughts. She looked at her companions earnestly. “All I wanted in my heart was to just go back home. But I can see that is not going to happen. You all took me in without hesitation. No conditions, no questions asked. If not for you Erica, I would probably be dead now. And your father, too. I know that I’ve been feeling sorry for myself for a while, but I am willing to do anything I can to help you all in any way I can.”

  They all joined hands, their pact understood.

  Two weeks later…

  The world had become a different place. India, Indonesia and China had already gone dark. Whatever semblance of government remained had completely lost control of its citizens. Local government was almost nonexistent. Besides the constant threat of zombie attacks, the loss of governmental control soon brought about a sudden resurgence of tribal, religious, political and wars. Under the guise of the eradication of the infected, personal and ethnic vendettas soon emerged. All of these extra killings only meant that Asia soon had more zombies than living people.

  Chinese Communist leader Xi Jinping, acting on his own and without party agreement, detonated two small technical nuclear weapons in interior cities where the dead had taken control. And, though unspoken, where certain ethnic and political minorities were located. The vast unpopularity and fear of continued use of these weapons led to a coup resulting in Chairman Xi Jinping’s assassination.

  This only led to more chaos. And as communications, the media and transportation came to a complete stop, soon the power grid also failed, plunging the vast country into darkness. In fact, all of Asia experienced a complete loss of electrical power.

  In Russia, the rise of the criminal underworld and mass desertions in the military were causing Vladimir Putin a massive problem. Deciding for now to let the warring factions of the Russian Mafia kill themselves off, he led the newly reprised KGB to take back control of the country
. The Russian government cut off outside communication and handled the matter in their own draconian manner.

  The African continent became a huge assemblage of mini-strongholds, as incompetent and corrupt governments fell and military juntas or local warlords took over. Most of these just walled themselves up in former government palaces and waited it out with whatever loyal soldiers and sycophants survived.

  Radical fundamentalists in the Middle East put the blame of the pandemic on Israel and the Western infidels. As Hamas, ISIS, Iranian and Syrian attacks multiplied, Israel, itself reeling from its own zombie infestation, showed no recourse but to push its own nuclear button.

  In both the Eastern and Western European nations, the Pandora 2 Mutation had already surpassed the mortality rates of the Black Death plague of the Middle Ages.

  South and Central America also fell into complete chaos as governments imploded and the occupants of the larger cities began to flee the big city death traps and disappeared into the jungles and rural areas. Certain drug cartel barons tried to exert control, but their members were too busy battling zombies to care about taking political power. The drug gangs lost a vast majority of their soldiers from the Pandora virus itself, primarily from being located in the heavily overpopulated slum areas of their countries. Packed into ramshackle barrios of thousands of people living on top of one another, and suddenly having one third of them turned into zombies, led to an almost complete eradication of whole populations of the poor.

  The North American countries of the United States and Canada had maintained their central governments, albeit with the loss of a number of influential and important leaders. The CDC and the WHO still kept in contact with European scientists to work out a cure for Pandora. But at this juncture, it was no closer to a discovery that it was on day one.

  All business and transportation had come to a screeching halt. With most major highways and roads logjammed with stalled and abandoned vehicles and teeming with wandering undead, they were virtually impassable. This was especially true in the vast metropolitan areas around the major cities and population centers. Any looting and rioting that had started in the earlier hours of the pandemic were quickly quelled. Not by law enforcement as much as by the increased presence of infected in the streets. Most looters coming out of a store, carrying a television or clothing, soon found themselves in the arms of the zombies waiting for them. Although, a certain lawless element did revel in the anarchy.

  With the reduced manpower of the fire departments, coupled with them being besieged in the streets by the undead, local fires became raging infernos taking whole blocks in their wake.

  When the pandemic started, most of the United States was experiencing an unusually warm period of weather. Air-conditioners had been turned on throughout the country. As the virus took its toll in the deaths of the infected, or in the deaths of people they killed, many household appliances such as air-conditioners, televisions, lights, electrical appliances and such, remained on and running in the various affected houses across the country. With no one alive to shut them off, they ran 24/7. This put a lot of strain on an electrical power grid that was now manned only by a skeleton crew. Soon, brownouts started to become prevalent as harried workers tried to cope with the overload. A few small areas had already experienced a blackout. It was just a matter of time before this became nationwide.

  §§ §

  Patrick, Dwayne, Erica and Billy looked out over a hand-drawn map of their neighborhood. Greta was sorting through the bread, throwing out slices that were already moldy. She would then make everyone peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

  “How about the Sadowskis?” asked Patrick.

  “Yes,” Billy said. “Pete had been sick with Pandora when it first came around. And he was missing from class last Friday.”

  Nodding, Patrick circled the crudely drawn house on the paper. “That makes four so far. All right, next door, we have the Shapins. I saw her outside a week ago. And I know that Hy is all right, too.” Patrick drew an X across that house.

  They had drawn up a map of their street. On it they drew boxes to represent all of the houses on their block. They were trying to determine who was infected who was not. The people that weren’t infected and were home received an X. The residents that were infected had their box circled. Those that weren’t home were rewarded with a dark multi-circle. They wanted to know which houses would be available for them to raid for food and water. They were getting very low and needed more supplies.

  The X boxes were ignored, as they were still inhabited. The multi-circle boxes were prime, as they didn’t have anyone there, nor would they. The single circle houses would be left for last. These, most likely, still had infected inside. Because of the danger that existed to enter them, they would be a last resort.

  Patrick already knew that the front doors of the infected’s houses had been already marked by the police during the quarantine. But using that as a guide was now impossible. The swarm that was led loose from the school gymnasium had fanned out through the area.

  Four days ago, a pickup truck had come racing up the street. He didn’t know where it originated from, but Patrick and Erica had been looking out the window at the time. They heard the engine roaring and tires screeching even before it came into view. He stuck his head out of the front door. He saw a black, pickup truck weaving its way up the street at high speed. The driver kept jerking the steering wheel back and forth making the truck veer sharply from side to side. As it hit a parked car at the curb, he saw the driver, a bearded man in his thirties, grimacing as he stared straight ahead. A woman sat next to him, terrified. The immediate objects of her fear were on the truck.

  Dangling from the driver side door handle was a male zombie. He was hanging on with both hands, while his lower body scraped along the asphalt as it swayed back and forth. Three more zombies were standing in the truck bed, pounding on the roof and trying to reach over the side into the windows. Patrick noticed another female zombie holding onto the rear bumper and being dragged along the street. The lower half of her was a bloody mess. He saw that below her torn and tattered dress were the shredded stumps of what was left of her legs.

  As the truck sped by, a lone zombie, who had been standing on a neighbor’s lawn all day, ambled out into the road between two parked cars and directly into the path of the truck. The grille slammed into the zombie full force and he flew through the air. Startled, the driver swerved to the left and sideswiped a row of cars, scraping off the zombie hanging from the door. All that was left was a red smear on the mangled door. The driver then overcompensated and veered right, smashing into an SUV parked two houses down. Two of the zombies standing in the pickup bed went sailing over the roof of the truck and SUV. The first landed, bouncing across the lawn and into a row of bushes in front of that house. The second hit the telephone pole in front of the SUV head first. His head shattered like a cantaloupe and he fell out of sight.

  The pickup was still running and the driver began to shift from drive to reverse, turning the wheel back and forth. He was trying to get his car unstuck from the mangled SUV, its grille tangled in the crumpled door. The screech of tortured metal and spinning tires echoed through the street. Smoke rose from the burning of the tires. The rear of the truck swung back and forth as he attempted to free himself. The one zombie still on the back of the truck had reached into the shattered passenger side window and grabbed a hold of the woman’s hair. Her desperate screams added to the din.

  Finally, with the wrenching shriek, the pickup truck tore free. It flew back before the driver slammed on the brakes. The truck came to an abrupt stop and the zombie went flying back holding a handful of hair. He bounced over the rear gate and tumbled across the street. Patrick noticed that the woman who had been hanging onto the back of the bumper was gone, but when the driver hit the gas again and sped away, she came rolling from underneath the chassis, as the rear tires drove over her.

  For a few seconds all was quiet. The smoke from the tires dis
sipated into the air, although the acrid stench of burning rubber remained. Then, the zombie that was thrown from the back stood up on the road. He moaned and started to plod ahead. From across the street, a rattling from the bushes signaled the rise of the zombie who had been thrown over the roof. He stood shakily, his head tilted unnaturally on his shoulders. As he too, shambled down the lawn after the disappearing truck, he dragged his left leg behind him.

  As the two moaning zombies hobbled their way up the street, Patrick heard a rumbling drone coming from the other direction. As he leaned out the door toward the source of the sound, his jaw dropped and he quickly ducked back inside.

  Shutting the door, he turned to Erica, frightened, and said, “Get away from the windows.”

  As the eerie humming noise grew, it became the sound of the moaning undead. Soon dozens of plodding zombies came marching up the street, using the road, sidewalks and lawns in their obvious pursuit of the pickup. Patrick couldn’t believe how many there were. This is what the driver must have been running from, Patrick thought.

  “My God, there’s so many of them,” added Erica, holding her hands over her mouth and shock. “Where did they all come from?”