Family Reunion "J" (5 page)

She and Ryan talked about what to do in these types of situations—well, maybe not quite this extreme. He always stressed that decision making during a crisis amounted to quick response to simple yes-or-no questions that you had to ask yourself. She heard his voice in her head:
“Get past the immediate danger, then reevaluate, sweetie
.
”
The fact that she could see no immediate threat gave her a chance to do just that.

The temperature was still in the high seventies, the stars were out now, although dimmed by the city lights. She checked the fuel gauge and was relieved to see the tank was nearly full. The urge to escape the area was almost overwhelming, but her brain was telling her to find a place to hide out until she could make a better plan, or at least until she could think clearly. Everything she’d done to this point was purely reactionary crisis mode. The only place she could think of that was somewhat secure was her Pro-Print office. The decision made, she sped up and concentrated on her driving.

Jay saw several more packs of the crazies in the hour it took her to get back to her office, but she steered clear of them using the bike’s speed and maneuverability. They were fast, but they did have their limits,
thank God.
She wasn’t aware of consciously coming to the conclusion that the crazies acted like packs of animals and not groups of people, but the more she saw of them, the more she was convinced that they were definitely no longer acting like people.

The other spaces in the strip mall that housed her office were all dark. She drove the motorcycle just fast enough to keep it upright, ready to gun the engine if needed. The windows of several of the offices and stores were broken. Thankfully, the front of her office was intact. Whoever had broken out the windows of the others apparently had no interest in fingerprinting. Jay rode the Harley right up on the sidewalk and parked in front of the dry cleaners next door. She shut off the engine and remained seated, listening. She could hear what sounded like cats fighting a few blocks away; the warm wind carried the sound to her. The ticking of the hot engine cooling brought memories of her dad. He’d bought her Harley 125 when she was a kid, and they worked on it together, changing the oil, cleaning it. She shook off the memory and patted the bike on the gas tank wistfully.

The office was as she had left it. Jay closed the blinds and turned on the small lamp on the receptionist desk. Putting it on the floor behind the desk to reduce the light, she immediately lifted the phone’s receiver. Dead, but the light on the answering machine blinked at her. Rather than installing an expensive phone system at the satellite office, Dick had opted for an old-fashioned, read
cheap
here, answering machine.

She hit the button and listened. Dick’s voice rattled out of the speaker. “Jay, things are going crazy. Governor Thompson has declared a state of emergency shutting down all public transport and roads. I tried your cell but couldn’t get through. I hope you get this. If you do, my advice is to hunker down and stay where you are. Hopefully they’ll get a handle on this quickly and things will settle down. I’ve been asked to return to duty as a trooper. If I can, I will get one of the officers in Martinsburg to check on the office. Get some water and food if you can, and remain inside at night. I’m hearing some unbelievable stories about gangs of people roaming the streets attacking anyone they come in contact with. Keep an eye out for a state trooper. If one shows up, go with them. Stay safe. I’ll call again when I have more info.” The machine beeped and a second message kicked off. “Jay, this is Dan Stanton of the West Virginia State Troopers. Dick Davis asked me to get this message to you. We have dispatched a trooper to the casino and to your office. Stay put and when you see the vehicle, approach the officer with your hands up. They have your description and will take you to safety. I’m sorry to tell you this, but Dick was killed earlier tonight. I’m sorry for your loss—good luck.” With that, the trooper disconnected.

Dick could be an asshole, but he had always been a good boss and friend. She felt the tears well in her eyes and her chest heave.
No! I can’t lose it; I have to remain in control.
She wiped her eyes and went to the minifridge she kept in the other room of the office. She pulled open the door to find it full of bottled water and a stash of Snickers bars—another of her guilty pleasures. Rather than grab a bottle of water, she went into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. The water was still working. She closed the bathroom door, turned on the light, and grabbed a cup. The water looked fine and smelled fine.
You’re being ridiculous, what would be wrong with the water?
She drank greedily, filling and draining the cup twice more.

She sat down on the toilet and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes, trying to think…
Okay, the messages on the phone were obviously made a couple of hours apart. The trooper may have already come by here but I can’t be sure. My best bet is to gather all the water I can in case it stops working. Then turn out the lights and wait. The motorcycle outside is a beacon for anyone coming by that someone is inside. I have to bring it in here.
She tried to remain calm, but her thoughts jumped from one bad scenario to another.
I need a weapon beside the stun gun and pepper spray.
She remembered there was a pawnshop just across the intersection from the strip mall. There was no way she would go there tonight, but tomorrow a quick trip over there to buy a handgun would be first priority.

She filled every conceivable container she could find with water. It seemed a bit overkill, but you never knew. After filling the last of the three trash cans with water, she turned off the lights and went to the front door. She separated the blinds and peeked out into the night. Seeing no one, she unlocked the door and slipped out. She stood stock-still, listening. The first thing she noticed was the shrieks and gunshots. They seemed distant, but those shrieks were so unnatural. It sounded like an animal being tortured. It wasn’t hot enough for her to be sweating, but she nonetheless felt the heat of her scalp rise, the sweat beads forming on her brow.

The Harley was just ten feet away. It would only take a minute to push it to the front door. She opened the front door all the way, looked down at the stopper to locate it, and pulled it down with her foot. Even before she looked up, she knew she was in trouble.

A group of those things headed toward her from across the parking lot. When she looked up, the one closest to her let out one of those piercing shrieks. She fumbled at the stopper with her foot, trying to get it back into its upright position, but it fell twice, almost jerking the door from her grasp before she bent over and grabbed the stopper with her hand. She backed into the doorway on her knees, pulling the door closed while holding on to the stopper. The door closed with feet to spare as the first of her attackers hit it with a resounding crash. She flipped the lock and scrambled backward on her hands and butt until she banged into the wall. Hyperventilating, she rolled to her knees and bolted to the back office. Once inside, she slammed the door and in the darkness felt for the light switch. In addition to her minifridge, the room had two chairs, a desk, and the fingerprinting equipment on a cart. She shoved the desk against the door, then dumped the cart of equipment onto the desk and shoved that against the door as well. She then sat on the floor with her back against the opposite wall, braced her feet against the second-hand wooden desk Dick must have bought at the discount furniture mart, and prayed.

Wave after wave of the crazies attacked the door throughout the night. It took them only a few minutes to destroy the glass door that lead into the reception area and just a minute or two longer to sniff her out in the back office. Jay’s strength ebbed with each attack, but all that weightlifting was now paying off in ways she’d never imagined.

She woke with a start, drawing a breath as if she had been under water too long. It took her brain a moment to catch up, and when it did, she wished it hadn’t. She listened for a minute and heard nothing. The night blurred together into a collage of terrifying moments separated by terrifying anticipation of the next attack. Her feet were still propped against the side of the desk. When she moved, her thighs and ass screamed in pain. It took her several attempts to get up, holding on to the desk to gingerly make her way around it to the door.

She listened with her ear to the wall off and on for an hour. She ate two Snickers and drank three bottles of water. After the last bottle, she decided it was time to check and see if her tormentors were gone. She had to pee so bad it hurt.

She dismantled her barricade and, with her legs protesting, pushed the desk away from the door. The door did not immediately bang open, which she took as a good sign. She looked around for a weapon of any kind. She unscrewed one of the cart’s four-foot-long legs and hefted it in her hands. It wouldn’t provide much defense, but it was better than nothing. She inched the door open. The morning light shined into the office from the demolished door. The entire front of the office was trashed. The smell was something between sour milk and dead animals. Oh, and shit. She swallowed hard to keep down the Snickers.

There was no sign of the crazies, so she went in the bathroom and relieved herself.
Oh that is glorious
she thought as she peed,
shhwooo.
With that out of the way, she made her way back into the front office. It was all she could do not to puke. Her boots crunched the glass as she went to the door. She unlocked the now-empty metal frame and opened it. The stopper fell as soon as she pushed the door opened.
Hmmm… gotta get that fixed.
Her bladder threatened to let loose another trickle as she remembered the night before. Shaking her head, she went to the Harley. It stood right where she had left it, untouched. She looked up and said a quick thank-you. Going back into the office, she pondered her next move. Not knowing when the crazies might return, she decided waiting for the cops to arrive wasn’t the best plan. She wanted to get home anyway, and sitting around here would solve nothing. She packed up the saddlebags on the Harley with the bottled water and candy bars and left without looking back.

Before leaving, she had tried the cell phone again with no better results. Her first stop this morning was the pawnshop just a couple of blocks away. Keeping her eye out for the crazies, she opened the throttle on the Harley, appreciating its modified power plant as it rocketed her forward. The roads were absolutely quiet. She didn’t see another living soul on her short trip to the pawnshop. When she arrived, she parked the bike and looked at the structure. The front door was ajar, the neon sign in the window blinking
OPEN.
She got off the bike and cautiously approached the store.

The closer she got, the more she noticed the smell. The same sickening sour, pungent decay greeted her. It was then that she saw why the door was open: a grayish-colored arm was visible, propping it open. Her first thought was to get back on Bob’s Road King and ride the hell out of there, but she had to get a gun of some kind. Walking slowly with her weight leaning away from the interior, she made her way to the doorway.

The scene inside struck her like a slap across the face. She turned and threw up into the flowerbed. The bodies were strewn about the business, blood was everywhere, and the flies had already found the feast. They buzzed up around her as she waived them off without success. The place looked like she imagined the battle of nearby Gettysburg must have. The bodies were so numerous that they lay on top of one another in places. She rolled one over with her foot; the gunshot wound still oozed blood so dark it appeared black. The corpse was a translucent pale gray with blotches of what looked like black mold in places. The veins were like road maps under the milky skin; its hair was there but in patches, as if it either had fallen out or was torn away. A noise got her attention; actually, it riveted her to the floor in a frozen panic. Her neck was still stiff from her accident yesterday; with great difficulty, she slowly scanned the entire store. Sitting on the far end of the counter was a large white cat, licking its paws and washing its face, which was covered in blood. It looked like it could care less that Jay was there.

Still not sure what was causing these people to turn into these things, she tried to be careful not to get the blood on her. Could just being in the room infect her? She picked her way carefully to the counter, avoiding the flesh-eating feline. The scene, like a painting, directed her eye to a center point, a place that looked to be the epicenter, the focal point of the attack.