The Complex: (The Reanimates) (3 page)

"Mom." Trent started, his voice firm and clear, "You don't. You and dad stay with Kristen. We'll be fine. When things get settled we'll come there but for now we need to all stay put. We'll go get the dog, probably raid your cupboards for food, and I want to get my tools... Yeah, we'll get all the dog's stuff... No, I think it would be easier on Drew if we stayed here. But thanks for offering your place. Yeah, mom we need to go. Drew is waking up. We'll text you later... I love you too. Bye."

Trent looked at me and said, "Cali how are we supposed to tell Drew?" Heh. I'd been trying to figure that one out for a while now. My son who is so innocent and happy, who believes in the goodness of people, is about to have a bomb dropped on him. I could tell that my husband was thinking the same thing because his eyes teared up at the same time mine did. His eyes had been dry until then.

As though on cue, Drew opened the door to his room. His blond hair stuck out in gravity defying angles. His still small frame was outgrowing his favorite Wall-e jammies, proving that indeed he was growing by showing a bit of bare belly. He saw the light on in our room and noticed the TV playing the news. He stood there, puzzled at us and tentatively asked what was wrong.

"Come here, bud." Trent called.

Drew climbed up on the bed and crawled over to me leaned onto my side. I breathed in his little boy smell, a mix of bath soap and sleep sweat, and I never wanted to let him go. Trent looked at me with an expression that read 'I can't do this' so I started it off.

"Kiddo," I began, "you know how I'm really into zombie books and dad and I would talk about when zombie apocalypse happens but it was all just make believe?"

He turned his head up towards me and said "Yeah. It's a game that you and dad play. Weird game but you two are weird so it makes sense."

With a deep breath I looked him in his eyes. He has the same crystal blue eyes his dad has. "Baby, it's not a game anymore. Today the guys on the news said it's not a game anymore."

Drew sat up and looked flat out annoyed at both my husband and me. "This is stupid mom. If they were real they'd be beating on the doors. You wouldn't be telling me there were zombies. They would be here." He started to get off the bed in annoyance when the breaking news jingle went off. The anchor man sat up straight and tried to convey confidence that wasn't truly there.

"Breaking news just came across the news desk. Confirmed cases of Shelton's, popularly being called the zombie virus, have been made in Los Angeles as well as outlying areas. Be extra vigilant in all activities. Do not go outside unless it is an emergency. Do not open your doors to people that may have become infected. Stay tuned for further information as it becomes available.”

Drew stopped moving. His jaw fell open as he watched the TV. Shock was etched across his face, his eyes were as wide as they could possibly be. He looked at Trent and me back and forth for a moment, too stunned to speak.

"It's really real? Mom? Dad? It's really real?" With that he landed in my arms. I expected him to cry. He just sat there. We sat quietly for a bit until he sat up and said, "OK then what do we need to do?"

Time For Action

That was what it took... a simple OK, what do we need to do. I was still scared, but it was a scared with a purpose. When I turned to Trent I could see it in his eyes too, a quiet strength and resolve. “Hey, with all the time spent talking about zombies we already know what we need to do. Time to get to work.” Trent turned to Drew and said, "First, we are going to grandma's house to get the dog and some tools and whatever else we need. Then we'll go from there."

The world that I drove home from work in was very different than the one now. That world had a spooky quiet to it. That world was a prior-to-confirmation world. A prior to the CDC rocking of the world damn near off its axis type of world. Now was chaos. No one was content with the instructions of staying inside like the news suggested. As we walked to the truck people ran around us in a panic. More than once I heard "el diablo" and "Did you get the pictures?" with the occasional sobs thrown in. Our downstairs neighbors were moving things out in a frenzy. They were shocked to see us not moving stuff out. When we said we aren't leaving our home we just are getting the dog it was as though we were speaking French. They wished us luck and we did the same to them. More people than not were taking the evacuation route to cope with the news. It didn't matter that there hadn't been an order for evacuation. Everyone seemed to want to be with their family to wait out the end of the world. Or maybe to survive in it.

Roads were thick with cars in the residential neighborhoods. So many people were trying to leave. An image popped into my head that I couldn't shake by seeing the cars like this. In the movie "Titanic" the rats were running from the water trying to save their own lives. The packed roads were the same way. Some people were running on foot dragging a wagon or pushing strollers filled with stuff while the children sat on the shoulders or backs of the bigger people. I had seen this once before when wildfires ripped through the city many years ago. That time people were all running from the fire but there was a calm courtesy in the fear. Traffic moved well. People waved others through the intersections. Strangers in sport utility vehicles pulled over to offer transportation to safer grounds. It wasn't like that this time. Before we all knew what the enemy was. It was flaming trap driven all around us by 90mph winds that the fires helped build. Here the rules had changed. You didn't dare to help others; what if they are infected? What if doing the good Samaritan thing meant you signed a death warrant, not just for you, but everyone with you? The trek to Mom's house was only five miles away but getting there felt like an eternity. When we opened the door the dog barked with much joy, so grateful to not be alone. Tesla is a wired haired terrier who was high energy and high maintenance. When they decided on the name Tesla I rolled my eyes and thought the name apt. Tesla could hear all sorts of chaos from the neighbors and I felt bad for her. Tesla rarely left my feet. When she did she found the next set of feet to hide between.

I started Drew on the job of getting all the pillow cases off the beds and filling them up with pantry goods as I collected cleaning supplies and medications from around the house. Trent loaded tools into the truck. We worked quickly so we could get home.

Just before we left Trent's mom's house we decided to turn on the television for a quick update on the situation. Situation. Ha. That's the understatement of the year. We had the apocalypse falling on us and I'm here calling it a situation.

The screen clicked on and what we saw was a shock and a half. Helicopter shots showed Los Angeles as a war zone. People were running from things that weren't alive. They couldn't be alive. Some were missing arms with bone exposed. Some had strips of their face missing. They didn't seem to notice their injuries at all. They just seemed intent on getting their prey.

The helicopter crew zoomed in on one of those zombie things chasing this woman who was wearing a blue business suit and high heels. She stumbled in those shoes a couple times and the cushion of space she was enjoying closed a bit each time she faltered. She stumbled one last time sliding down on her knees and that was all the zombie hunter needed. He was on her and laid his teeth into her neck. Blood sprayed with each pulse pump all over the pavement. The zombie kept on biting her, ripping strips of flesh off of her and stuffing those pieces into his mouth covetously, consuming her as she laid dying. Another zombie showed up and started ripping into her abdomen eating her alongside of her pursuer. They were just sharing a meal together, though any time the second zombie got too close to where the first zombie had been the first one made an aggressive posture so the interloper was reminded of who was the boss with this chunk of meat. If it was Kristen's husband narrating in that chopper he would have surmised that the zombie was thinking something to the effect of get your damn own.

The reporter in the helicopter just kept repeating over and over this isn't happening. He couldn't wrap his mind around this any more than I could. The news anchor popped on the screen interrupting the video feed. He stumbled in his words as he tried to thank the aerial crew for that update. He looked for a smile that wasn't there as he told us he was going to check in on someone else on the ground.

A perky blonde woman with an intent look popped on the screen with an LAX terminal in the background and started saying that things were absolute chaos. She explained that there seemed to be a massive outbreak in the airport and that the security checkpoints were restricting the ability of people to leave the airport. Effectively creating a bottle neck by the exit only points.

The perky blonde reporter stopped a woman who was trying to leave for a quick statement. "People were biting other people and those bitten people seemed to be killed from their injuries." she explained. She was speaking fast and somewhat incoherently. 

The camera focused back on the reporter who continued to speak. "The most unbelievable part of this, taken from eyewitness accounts, was although they seemed to be dead, a few moments later the fatally wounded victims would wake up and walk away from their injuries. We were told that they started to sniff the air and listen for people that hadn't been bitten yet until they found their first victim. People were tearing out the security check points so they could escape this airport prison they were trapped in. We spoke to one man who told us that before they ripped the security addition from the walls people were trapped like cows in a slaughter house."

She stopped talking for a moment and her eyes were wide in horror. She was staring off to the side. The camera man turned to see what she was looking at, decided it had to be the glass doors of the airport where they were pushed open by a stumbling hoard of bitten and torn people. They moved in a half run, stumbling and brokenly, like puppets on tangled strings.

"Jim is that them?" The pretty reporter asked her camera man for conformation to a question she already knew the answer to. "Jim? They seem to be coming this way! Get the shot!" The camera man spun back to the reporter who was staring intently at the building. She never noticed the one that had showed up behind her. The camera man recorded the zombie laying its teeth into the reporter's shoulder as she started to scream. Jim dropped the camera to assist his coworker. She came back on the screen when she fell to the ground landing on her side, the bitten shoulder under her. Her blonde hair once perfectly styled was disheveled and turning auburn with the blood that was flowing from under her and from blood that traveled in small rivers across her face where teeth had savagely torn off her ear. The zombie lifted her shirt and kept working on consuming her as though she were a barbequed pig. Jim popped on the screen trying to pull the zombie off of her. He was so intent on his task that he never saw the three others that then grabbed him.

The anchor cut in then, no longer having his happy face on. He said that there was an update by the President of the United States of America that would be aired in moments. Just then the screen flicked to the White House press room.

The president stepped up to the podium with an intense aura of determination etched on his face.

"My fellow Americans. Your government is doing everything it can at this time. Military is on duty with all active members of all branches attempting to gain the upper hand. I have issued mandatory recall of all the enlisted and recently discharged personnel and we are attempting to neutralize the situation at hand. Things may seem to be moving slowly and we realize services like 911 are not available at this time, which is understandably frightening, but take comfort in knowing we are working to bring these things back online. The best advice we can offer you, and we all sincerely hope that you will take it, is at this time please do not leave your home. Stay there. Lock your doors. Secure all entrance points including windows. We are trying to get to you. You have not been forgotten. If you have been bitten or scratched by an infected person please isolate yourself behind a secured door. Place a sign in a window to indicate to rescue personnel that you have been in contact with an infected individual. This will speed up the triage process in getting you the care you need.

"We are continuing to work to find out what this disease is and to offer a cure and an immunization to this horrible infection. We are going to get through this.

"My next announcement will be from a secured location, as my security advisor has determined The White House is an insecure area. We are going..."

I turned off the TV. The point was made. We were up a creek without a paddle. I didn't believe the president at all. I didn't believe for a moment that there were a wad of heroes shooting their way up to us. I didn't believe in this magic cure fix or immunization idea either. Not this soon. I resented the speech because the government had to have known what was in the works. There were cases before this, the CDC had confirmed that it had been around long enough to mutate for Christ sake and there had been no super important presidential announcement then. Before it might have done some good. Now? I didn't really see the silver lining that the president was trying to sell us.

Trent stood up, sighed, then said "It's time to go. We have to get back now if there is a chance." I saw the world weigh heavy on him. He didn't look like that presidential address made him believe in the government, just like he didn't believe in them yesterday. Trent believed that the only way the government did work was because all the sheep out there were willing to accept the government as an authority.