Deadlocked 2 (6 page)

Then it was quiet for a long time.

"Get up, Laura," I whispered to myself. "Get your ass up." Fear had frozen me in place, the same as it did on the dock when David died. I couldn't move and I trembled in the chair of the security shack.

I thought of Annie's pale, pretty face, quietly lying in the boat as the infection ravaged her. I was the only hope she had of a cure. If I stayed here, she would die, and so I forced myself to stand.

I found courage as I thought of my daughter, Kim. She had ignored the pain in her back so I wouldn't worry about her, and that strength drove me forward. I had to keep my promise to survive and return to her.

The street was ominous as it stretched out ahead of me. I charged up the hill with renewed vigor and listened for the sound of feet from behind. The city had seemed abandoned before, but now it felt teaming with vicious intent. Every empty alley promised new horrors as I passed, and every window was a view on my vulnerability. When would they see me? How long would it take for them to follow my trail?

The scream started again, and it was closer. I couldn't see it, but the creature was somewhere in the projects. Its voice had an emotionless droll to it, but it sounded as if it were right on top of me. That's when we saw each other.

I glanced up, and it looked down. The zombie stood on the fifth floor of the building to my right and had been aimlessly wandering in one of the apartments. The person must have died there, and was left to search the abandoned project for someone to eat once it was reanimated. Now it found me, but it was trapped up there and I thanked God for that.

Then it jumped over the railing.

The male zombie plummeted to the ground and landed feet first. Its legs buckled and I heard the femurs crack and split as the creature crumpled to the ground. Sheer white bone poked out of its leg and black, rotten blood leaked out like a broken bottle of molasses. His face was grey and torn at the temples, as if he had been clawing at himself in death. He landed across the street from me and was deathly still, twenty feet away.

I whimpered at the sight, but carried on, a trail of bloody footsteps behind me. Billy said the pharmacy was just inside the Baylor Projects. I had to be getting close.

Then the zombie called out to me.

Its growl shocked me and I yelled in terror. I thought it died from the fall, but it started to move. The infected man stretched out and scratched at the pavement. Its nails bent backward as it struggled forward. The creature crawled at me as viscous black blood oozed from its gaping jaw.

I couldn't run. I tried, but my leg was too badly damaged and my fervor to get away made me stumble against the wall of the building to my left. The zombie started to move faster than I could as it pulled itself across the street and screamed at me. I hopped on my good leg, but the painkillers hid my injuries too well. The muscles in my body revolted and seized up. My thigh burned as I did everything I could to move uphill, but the zombie gained ground.

I fell and landed on my right side. I rolled so that I sat on the sidewalk, facing the creature that would eat me. I took the metal crutch and ripped the foam pad off the armrest. When the creature came within striking distance I wailed the crutch down on its head, but it didn't stop. I struck again, but I wasn't strong enough to kill it. It grabbed onto my bandaged, bloody foot.

I pressed the armrest of the crutch against its face and pushed, but I couldn't keep it off me. The monster grabbed the bandages on my foot and dragged me to him, which ripped open the wound on my side as my back scraped against the concrete. Fresh, brilliant red blood poured out of me and ran downhill to mix with the zombie's black stream of fetid liquid.

My flesh peeled off as it gnawed into my ankle. The creature pulled the bandages away and bit onto a flap of skin from my open wound. It pulled its head up and my skin ripped back to reveal the bone of my ankle. I screamed out in pain and despair as the inevitability of my death became apparent.

If I let this thing win, I would break my promise to Kim. I would die, and Annie would die, and Kim would be left to face this new, apocalyptic world alone.

No. That wasn't going to happen.

I kicked the creature in the face with my left foot and a strip of my flesh ripped off in its mouth as it reeled back. I sat up, grabbed onto its face, and pressed my thumbs into its eyes. My voice roared in fury as I plunged my nails into the spongy sockets. The left thumb dug in while the right slipped under the ball of the eye and popped it out of the socket. The eyeball dangled on the monster's cheek as black blood oozed out of the left.

Pain didn't faze it though. The zombie lurched forward to blindly grasp at me. It caught my left arm and bit into my wrist. I wrenched my arm out of its grip, but this was a fight I couldn't win. These creatures didn't feel pain, and he would continue to claw and bite until he was utterly destroyed. Punching, kicking, and clawing at them wouldn't keep me alive. There was only one weapon left to use.

I dug my right thumb deep into the creature's socket and shoved its head back. Its neck stretched out before me, and I bit into him.

My teeth sunk into its rotted flesh and the putrid blood gushed over my cheeks as I clenched down on its jugular. The creature wailed as my teeth ripped into him, and then the sound of his voice turned to a gasp as I gnawed into his throat. Air whistled past my ear as it tried to breath through the hole in its neck, but I plugged it with my chin as I pushed forward and opened my mouth to take another, bigger bite. It let go of my arm as it grasped my shoulder to push me back, but I wouldn't relent. The meat tore easily and the decayed flesh peeled off as I pressed the fingers of my left hand into the wound to pull it wider.

The monster thrashed beneath me as I pushed it on its back against the pavement. I surged over him without letting go of the wound I'd opened in his throat. The four fingers of my left hand pushed their way into its esophagus and I could feel its tongue lash around.

My left thumb wormed its way into the creature's throat and my entire hand burst into its mouth. I could feel its spine against the back of my knuckles and I started to slam my fist into the roof of the monster's mouth. The sickening rip of rotted flesh splattered around my ears and I clenched my eyes shut.

Its spine broke and I continued to push its skull forward with my left hand. I bit at the remaining flesh of its neck and felt the skin tighten, then rip. I pulled the zombie's head off and threw it forward, down the hill. It rolled a few feet and then settled in a storm drain as I lay over the decapitated body.

I vomited the rotted meat.

CHAPTER EIGHT - HER BEST SHOT

I couldn't stop throwing up. Even as I made my way to the pharmacy and into the aisles of the well-stocked store, I continued to wretch. My black vomit spilled out over the clean, white linoleum as I dragged my useless foot behind me.

My mind wasn't right anymore. Not just because I'd cannibalized a man on the street, but my vision swam in and out of focus as I stumbled through the aisle. My hand struck the shelves in places I didn't expect as I struggled to stay upright. Nothing around me made sense anymore as I neared the pharmacist's counter. I swung the waist-high door open and stepped into the row of white bottles where customers weren't allowed. Somewhere among these endless rows was the medicine that could save my daughter's life. Mine also, for that matter.

The crutch under my left arm hurt more than it should. The overdose of pain killers that I'd subjected myself to should have taken care of any sensation my nerves could muster, but something was wrong with my arm that was bad enough to break through. I leaned against the shelves and pulled up my shirt to see what was wrong.

Black buboes swelled beneath my skin. I was infected. I was turning into one of them.

"No, please no. Not yet." My body was riddled with the infection. Not only had the creature bitten me, but I also swallowed more parts of him than I cared to recall. The infection swelled through me and it would only be a matter of hours before I would turn.

I started to throw bottles of pills off the shelf as I inspected them. The one I wanted wasn’t there. I desperately turned in circles and looked through the shelves. There was nothing close to what I looked for and I started to panic. My emotions overwhelmed me and I pulled an entire shelf of bottles to the floor as I screamed out in frustration. I'd come all this way, fought this hard, and it was for nothing. The antibiotic wasn't here.

I dropped to my knees and started to slam my fist into the ground. I glanced at the bottom shelves, but they didn't have pills there. Instead, the bottom shelves were filled with powders.

What if it was a powder I was looking for instead of a pill? The possibility hadn't occurred to me. I started to rifle through the bags.

Doripenem. I found it!

I was overwhelmed with joy and started to cry as I held the pouch. It was hard to focus on the instructions as my mind spun from the Oxycontin. The label thankfully had more information on it than the bottle of painkillers that Billy brought me. It was an injectable and needed to be mixed with a liquid diluent. I found needles beneath the counter and shoved a handful into my pocket. I got up and tried to focus on my next task of finding the diluent when the bell over the pharmacy door chimed. Someone had come in.

"I'm just gonna grab a few sodas. You want anything?" asked a man's voice as he came in.

I stumbled to the front of the counter and slapped my hands on it as I tried to call out to the stranger, but my voice was a garbled mess of sound as black vomit trickled from my lips.

"Holy fuck!" said the stranger. He was a police officer and he stumbled back at the sight of me. He drew his pistol and pointed it at me as I struggled to scream out for him to stop.

I fell to my knees, beneath the counter, as the gunshot rang out. The bullet struck the wall behind me and I started to scream until my voice turned from emotional, guttural noises into actual words.

"Stop shooting!"

"You're alive?" asked the officer.

"Yes." I stood up slowly with my hands in the air.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" asked a second officer as he burst in through the door. He nearly slipped in the blood trail I left on the floor and he grabbed the side of the door to steady himself. He was taller than the first and had short blonde hair and deep frown lines that fell from the corner of his mouth beneath his wide cheeks. "Why are you shooting?"

"This chick scared the piss out of me," said the first, smaller cop. He had sharp features and a long nose that hung over his thin mustache. His eyes were black and set deep into his face above dark circles that made him look sickly.

Something was wrong with the way they looked at me. They weren't here to help, and the momentary relief I experienced at first seeing them began to fade. The big one started to laugh and his barrel chest puffed out as he lowered his shotgun.

"You've got to be shitting me," he said. "Is your name Laura?"

I nodded and kept my hands up as the little cop aimed his gun at me.

The blonde one slapped his partner on the shoulder with the back of his hand. "This is the bitch Trev was talking about."

"No shit?" asked the dark haired cop as he lowered his gun.

"Where's your boyfriend?" asked the larger one.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't fuck around, twat," he said and brought his shotgun back up. "The one that was on the boat with you. Where's he at?"

"He left. Went into the city."

The short one interrupted, "Yeah, Trev said he was headed back into the city."

"Where's your kids?" asked the one with the shotgun.

"They're not here. I needed to get this medicine for my littlest one. She's infected." My drug and infection addled mind couldn't piece together what had happened. The things they said to me, and the way they knew so much about my situation, didn't make sense. "How do you know who I am?"

"Our buddy that ran into you in the bay, Trev, called and told us you might be headed this way," said the little one. "Said you had a nice big boat that we could take to go meet up with them. Whatcha got there?" He pointed the gun at the bag in my hand and started to walk toward me.

I dropped my arms and put the bag behind my back. "Medicine."

"Give it to me," he said as he pointed the pistol with his right hand and held out his left.

"No."

"You hear that, Ron?" asked the little one of his partner. "She said no."

"I don't know why you're here, or what you want, but my daughter needs this. I need to get this to her. She needs this." My mind drifted in and out of our conversation as if I'd spent the day downing tequila shots. I felt like I was moving back and forth as I stood rigid behind the counter.

"I'll beat the living fuck out of you, bitch," said the little guy. "Give me the fucking bag."

"I'm a zombie," I said with drugged glee. "I'll bite ya."

"I'll just shoot your ass and take the bag."

"Blood mist vapor and stuff gets in your face and…" I tried to repeat my late husband's witty remark from the day before, but my mind had given in to either the Oxycontin or the infection. I shrugged and said the first insult that came to mind, "Suck a dick."

Ron came around the counter and shouted something at me as he advanced, but I didn't understand any of it. The butt of his gun slammed against my head and I tumbled to the ground. The strike brought the world back into focus a little and I tried to fight with him as he ripped the bag of antibiotic powder out of my hand. I couldn't stop him. I couldn't do anything but lay back and cry. I begged them to leave me alone. I begged them to give the medicine to Annie.

Ron looked at the bag and a scowl deepened the lines on his face. "How'd you know about this?"

"What?"

He bent down and slapped me across the face as he shook the bag at me. "Doripenem. Who told you about this?"

"It works then?" I asked. It was a relief to hear that it might save Annie, but I still didn't know how I would get it to her.

"Yeah, it works." He shoved the bag into his pocket and then pulled out a small glass vial of liquid that he shook at me. "We've got plenty. All mixed up, ready to go. Just sitting here, ready to save your life." He laughed and put the bottle back in his pocket. "Shame you had to be such a twat."

"Why aren't you helping people?" I asked. "If you know there's a cure, why aren't you helping people? You're cops. You're supposed to be the good guys."

Ron laughed at me. "We're not cops, you dumbass."

"Who are you then?"

"None of your fucking business. Dave, find the rest of this." He shook the bag of Doripenem. "Can't hurt to have more. I'll head down to the dock to find their boat. I bet her kids are there."

"Please help Annie. You can take the boat. I don't care. Just help my baby, please give her some of the medicine."

Ron looked as if he considered my request and then laughed. "Nah, I don't think so. Maybe I'll tie your kids together so that when the infected one turns she'll eat the other one. How's that sound?"

"Want me to finish this bitch off?" Dave pointed the gun at me.

"Not with a bullet, dumbass," said Ron. "You already told every zombie within a mile we're here with the first shot. Shoot again and you'll send them into a frenzy after you. Just leave her here. She's good as dead anyway. Look at her. She's a fucking mess. I'm going to head to the dock to see if Chuck made it down already."

"All right," said Dave. "I'll see ya in a few."

"Grab some condoms," said Ron as he peered out the door of the pharmacy to see if the street was clear. "Trev said the chick they got from that boat is pretty hot. She'll be a nice treat when we get to the island."

"Nice," said Dave as Ron left. He started to search through the shelves for the rest of the antibiotic.

"You don't deserve that name," I said.

"What the fuck are you saying over there?" He continued to search through the aisles.

"David. That was my husband's name. He was ten times the man you are."

"You'd do best to shut up, honey," said David.

I spoke louder to muffle the sound of the wrapper coming off the needle in my right hand. "He was strong, and handsome, and so smart. You're just a stupid little piece of shit. You're the kind of guy my husband would've crushed between his fingers. You're so fucking stupid." The painkillers garbled my speech and muddled my thoughts, but I spoke as loud as my lungs would allow.

"Yeah, sure thing." He tried to be dismissive, but I could tell he was annoyed as he tossed bags of powder and bottles around in search of the antibiotic. "If I'm so dumb then how come I just helped put together the biggest terrorist attack the world's ever seen? Huh? You stupid bitch. Shut your fucking mouth."

I yelled over him as I stuck the needle into my right thigh and drew back the plunger. "You're just one of those little, weak, stupid fucks that get picked on all their lives by men like my husband. Men that matter. Men that can make their women happy. Men that don't make their mothers cry in fucking shame. You pathetic, puny, piece of shit." I screamed loud enough to attract the attention of every zombie in the area.

"I tried to be nice," said David as he stomped through the bags and bottles to confront me. "But you had to go be a fucking cunt." He holstered his pistol and cracked his knuckles in anticipation of the beating he would give me. "I won't lie, I'm gonna enjoy every second of this."

"I bet you will."

He struck me across my left cheek and my head bounced off the side of the counter to my right. Stars lit my vision and I wanted to make my move, but he wasn't close enough yet. He still stood over me and the gun was out of reach. I needed to get him closer.

"Did your pussy just fart on me or is that what you call a punch?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you, don't you? All right, fine. You want some more?"

"Yep." I spit a tooth at him.

He grabbed my shirt with his left hand and got down on his knees. He pulled me away from the wall and drew his right hand back to hit me with as much force as he could manage.

"Take your best shot!" I said and jammed the needle into his left thigh. He squealed in shock and I grabbed his gun with my other hand. He jumped away in panic and the gun slipped out of his holster. When he realized what happened he tried to grab the pistol, but I pulled the trigger too fast.

The bullet tore through his right hand and left his middle finger dangling by a flap of skin as a stream of his blood painted my face and the wall behind me. He grabbed his hand and fell against the shelf, which then tumbled backward. Bottles clattered to the floor and he rolled around on them in agony.

"You fucking bitch!" he screamed again and again. "You crazy bitch." The needle bobbled from his waist.

I stood up and callously pointed the gun at his knee. He was moving too much to get a clean shot. "Hold still!"

Miraculously, he did as told. I shot out his left knee.

"Stop it," he wailed. "What the fuck's wrong with you?"

"Hold still." It was worth another shot.

He crawled away from me and I grabbed onto his right foot. I pulled him back and he tried to kick at me, so I shot the back of his leg. I wanted to take out his other knee, but the little guy just wouldn't stop moving. I wasn't sure the wound would immobilize him, so I shot him again.

"Stop," he said. "Please stop. Don't kill me. Don't kill me, please."

"I don't want to kill you. I just don't want you to get away."

"What? Why?"

"I'm going to go kill your friend. Then I'll be back, and we'll talk about you being a part of this terrorism shit. Do you think I should shoot you again? Or are you going to stay put like a good little boy?"