36 Hours (41 page)

I wanted to return to that dream. Return to that kiss, so passionate and full, so real, to feel her shivering in my embrace, forgetting the wilds and cares of the world. I eagerly gripped the blanket and closed my eyes, a refugee from the world of reality, running from nightmares in hope for a dream, escaping the Alcatraz of the present for the shore of the past.

“My cousin is sick.” She was sitting in the chair, staring out the window. “He
died last night. They don’t know what it was. Rabies from a dog bite, they
think.”

I tried to touch her arm. She pulled away. This wasn’t the memory. Cheated.

“I wasn’t really close to him. But it bothers me because… because they lost
his body.” She looked down at me where I sat beside the chair. “How do
doctors lose a body? It wasn’t on the straps in the morgue. It’s like someone
stole it, but the nurses don’t claim anyone left with a body. They would’ve seen
that. Gosh. It’s eating me away, driving me crazy. How can that-“

The glass windows before her shattered, two hands reaching in, a bloodied
face screeching. Glass rained down all over me and I fell backwards. The hands
grabbed Hannah. She screamed as the arms wrenched her towards the little
boy’s mouth. She reached for me, but I didn’t move, was too petrified. Blood
gushed all over the wall, all over the boy’s face, as he bit into her jugular. She
screamed and kicked and cried as her neck was shredded by his teeth.
He let go and she fell backwards in the chair, flying into the dresser. She
rolled on the floor, cupping hands over her throat, blood seeping through, a
waterfall. The boy at the window smashed at the glass, trying to enter. I crawled
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over to Hannah, yelling. She writhed back and forth, kicking her legs, blinking
her eyes, moving her mouth like a fish out of water. “Hannah! Hannah!” Her
eyes glazed and she lay still.

The boy smashed at the window.

Hannah’s eyes opened. She looked at me, except they were… different.

“Hannah?”

She snarled, her voice torn and jagged by the throat wound, and she
scrambled up towards me. I reeled backwards and ran out of the room, yelling.
Blood was all over the walls, in the food of the kitchen, and everyone had
mottled purple flesh, sunken eyes, furled lips. They screeched and ran after me.
Melanie, Amanda, Drake, Chad, Rachel and Tyler, rushing me with a bloodlust.
I turned and stumbled into Hannah. She knocked me down and jumped on top of
me. I tried to stand but the others jumped on top, too. My arms split in pain as
they were ripped from the sockets; my stomach was torn open, the innards
wrenched out, eaten by my friends. My eyes rolled into the back of my head and
all I felt was that pain, like a million daggers churning in my guts, and I heard
those screams, and-

Hannah shook my awake. I wheeled around, gasping.

Hesitant, she asked, “Are you okay?”

I took several deep breaths. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

“You were shaking in your seat and you were making crying noises.”

“Was I?” Her eyes were filled with life. I just wanted to hold her and cry.

“Thank you.”

She nodded and lay back in her seat.

Shelley announced, “Look at that, guys!”

We all scrambled to the cockpit, Ash holding the baby. We had already passed over the Rocky Mountains and were descending to a city full of lights. Lights. A city, breathing and alive. My heart cackled with joy. The radio rumbled: “This is San Francisco International Airport, 52CDB4E. Your aircraft has been spotted on our radar. Please tell us your situation immediately.”

Another voice! It was wonderful!

Shelley grabbed the radio. “San Francisco, it’s great to hear your voice! We are flying from Clearcreek, after a small delay at Missouri International.”

“Missouri International is out of service.”

“We know,” he said. “But we’re all okay.”

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“How many passengers?”

“It’s me and three teenagers. And a baby.”

“A baby? We have planes flying all over, but since you have an infant, you’ve got first priority.”

Shelley gave me a thumbs-up. I grinned.

San Francisco: “Descend to Emergency Runway Seven. You will be assisted upon landing.”

“Buckle up, guys,” Shelley said. “It’s over. We’re going to eat and sleep good the rest of the night!”

If we would’ve known, I imagine we’d have stayed in the air.

5:00 a.m.

No restitution

“I hate you.”

Morning

Army and National Guard trucks littered the sides of the runway; the Caravan came to a stop and we popped open the door. Shelley went out first; the moment he dropped to the ground, he was approached by a soldier wearing a steel black M16. Behind him were several more soldiers, huddled together. A plane rumbled overhead, landing further down the strip.

The soldier told Shelley, “Up against the plane, sir. Please cooperate.”

Shelley beamed, “Of course,” and stood against the Caravan’s fuselage. Hannah dropped out, then Ashlie with the baby, and I was the last one out. The inside of the plane was stark cold, but here it was warm. Palm trees lined the edges of the main building, glowing in the night. Trucks rumbled past, bearing several people, tired and worn, some bloodied and beaten. The soldier took the baby from Ash and handed it to another soldier, who took it to the truck and lay it in the back, and proceeded to undress it. The soldier had us line up and said,

“Tell me what happened. Everything.”

We told him our story, from Clearcreek High School to 25 Rosebud Avenue, the trek to the grocery store, then the stop at the police station, the overrun hideout at 430 Wellington Way, the experiences at the farmhouse, the escape from the business complex, our dumpster story from the Coffman Family YMCA, and finally our take-off and deluge at Missouri International. Shelley Anthony Barnhart

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spoke of how he’d gone in for work; how one of his co-workers had been bitten, was feeling sick, and really agitated, saying, “I saw some woman walking around, she looked dazed, and she had gotten in a car wreck, so I got out of my car and tried to help her, and she bit me!” He got really sick and Mary attended to him, then he turned and Mary was fatally bitten, turned, and it spread through the employees readying for an average day of work; Shelley had been the only survivor.

“Has any of you been bit?”

Shelley shook his head. “No. If we would’ve been bit, we’d be turned.”

“That depends on the severity of the bite and its proximity to major arteries.”

“We know, we know,” I interjected. “We saw the News. Before it went to the emergency broadcasting system.”

“Clearcreek fell fast. Most of Ohio did. In less than three hours. Populated places were wiped out fast. New York City went under in less than an hour, though we believe there are maybe hundreds or thousands of survivors there. We know there are survivors everywhere. If we’re getting this many on planes, then how many can’t fly out? We’ve already gotten close to five thousand refugees from the air, and that’s just here in San Francisco. There are refugee camps all up the West Coast. Canada has a few, and most other countries do, too, despite rumors they’ve been completely overrun.”

Ashlie asked, “Is it going to end?”

“We have some ideas,” the soldier said. “We think so.”

One of the soldiers near the truck shouted, “The baby’s clear!” and began to dress the infant.

The soldier nodded, yelled over his shoulder, “Daniel! Grays! Vince!” The three soldiers ran over and stood beside him. The first soldier – the Captain or what-not of the band – said, “All right. We need you guys to strip completely down. Just undress. Please hurry so we can get your plane off the runway.”

Scattered glances between us.

He explained, “We’re checking to make sure no one is infected. We have to halt the spread of infection.”

Shelley rolled off, “I told you, none of us are bitten.”

“We need to make sure. Please undress.” He lowered the weapon. Shelley looked at us all. “Okay, guys. Let’s do what he says. I can understand what he’s saying. We’ll be happy if they’re doing it for everyone else.” He began to take off his shirt.

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I took off my own shirt and started on my pants, feeling more than embarrassed. Did we have to strip all the way down? Hannah was undressing, but I didn’t even care. Ashlie was slowly taking off her shirt. I looked at the plane that had flown over us to land. About fifteen soldiers were facing about four people; they raised their weapons; the people were crying, broken – the guns fired. The people dropped down, backs of their skulls bursting open and spraying the cement. Shivers ran through me.

We all stood naked, exposed. I felt so humiliated. The soldiers came forward and turned us around, inspecting every nook and cranny of our bodies. My own face burned, and I saw that Hannah was trying to cower into a corner, but the soldier inspecting her kept pulling her back. Ashlie lowered her head, staring at her feet. The soldier looking over Hannah unwrapped the bandage on her arm; the cut had gone yellow, issuing puss; flakes of dried skin and gunk littered the ragged flesh and torn muscle. She gasped in pain as he inspected it. The soldier inspecting me said, “Clear! Lots of cuts and bruises, nothing bad –

no bites.”

Shelley got the same report.

Hannah’s soldier said, “She’s clear, too, but this gash on her arm will need immediate medical treatment. It looks like it might be infected. Not with
Copernicium arretium
, but something… normal.”

Ashlie’s soldier looked up. “Captain?”

He abandoned Shelley and walked over. They whispered together. The captain closed his eyes and turned. “We need you three to step back, please.”

“Step back?” I asked. “For what?”
The people being shot.
“No, tell-“

“Step back,” the soldier said again. He turned Ashlie around and pointed to her shoulder blade; there was a small bite, already beginning to swell and grow purple at the edges. Ashlie began to cry.

“No, no, look, let’s treat it, maybe if we put some antiseptic or ointment or something on it, maybe-“

“There are no known cures,” the soldier said. “Did you watch the news? A bite is a death sentence.”

“It’s so small!”

“It’s already infecting.
Step back.
”

“That’s my sister!” I yelled, stepping forward.

The soldier guarding me pointed his gun at me, growled, “Don’t.”

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I shoved him away and ran forward. He struck out with the butt of his gun. Spots danced before my eyes and I fell onto the pavement, head cracking and searing with pain. The soldier pointed the dangerous end of the assault rifle at me. I raised my hands, sobbed, “Please. She’s all I have left. Please.”

Hannah shivered in the cold. I felt awkward lying naked, exposed, but Ashlie was going to-The soldier grabbed my hands and dragged me across the pavement. Dirt and pebbles tore into my back. I kicked and hollered; Ashlie looked at me, pleading for help. I kicked at the earth, got a hand free, reached for the assault rifle. More soldiers ran forward, beating me down; I crawled on the ground, tried to get up, but was delivered a kick in the small of my back. Shelley and Hannah were driven back by the soldiers.

Ashlie was pressed against the fuselage. The soldier pointed his M16.

“No! No! Please! Shoot me! Shoot me instead!”

The soldier didn’t hear me. Ashlie looked past the gun, right at me, the soldiers kicking me down.

Curses and swear words spew from my mouth, raining down condemnation and damnation on the soldier as he aimed the gun at Ashlie’s face. I cried out to God, cried for his deliverance, cried that he would make it all better, intervene with his angels, anything! But there was just the wind, the rumble of trucks. Ashlie cocked her head to the side, looked up to heaven. God!

A single gunshot; the back of her head splattered all over the fuselage. Her body teetered and fell to the pavement. The soldier lowered the M16.

“Murderer!” I screamed. “Murderer! She was all I had left you dirty %#$*!

You %*$&ing a$$!”

The soldier said, “Take them away. Get the girl to the ward. Get them beds and hot food.”

I was ripped to my feet. The smell of death lingered in my nose. “She was all I had left! You killed my only #*$&ing family! I hope you get bitten and die you rotten @#^$!” I couldn’t say anymore, just cried and sobbed as the soldiers threw me into the back of an Army pickup truck with wooden rails. Hannah and Shelley crawled in next to me. I cowered in the corner. The soldiers got inside. I whispered more curse words under my breath as the truck left the Caravan behind and an Army pilot began to taxi it to an unnamed hangar. Hannah held me in the darkness, hung head over me, and I shook all over. This was worse than Ashlie being bitten, then Ashlie being killed by one of Anthony Barnhart

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them. Being killed by an animal was a lot better than being shot by a cocky soldier. I looked at that soldier with the most hate, the most vehemence, the most thirst for revenge I’d ever experienced. I considered just taking one of those guns and shooting him, shooting him so many times until his body was just tattered rags and flesh and bone in a bath of blood. The soldiers tossed us our clothes, “Get dressed.”

We dressed in the truck as it rolled to a stop beside a building with a Red Cross logo on the awning. The soldiers pushed us inside. The waiting room was filled with men, women and children. Most were cut, bruised, and bloodied. A lot were crying. Had they lost friends and family members due to the ‘safety measures’ too? No one connected eyes. We were all survivors, but we were all disconnected. We all had stories, we all had experiences – sleep would bring us all nothing but nightmares. No one wanted to talk. No one wanted to reach out. You were alone? Big deal. So was everyone else.