Decay: A Zombie Story (18 page)

I kept thinking about my fish. It had only been a few days and they were probably all doing absolutely fine. Other than being a little hungrier than usual, they were probably swimming around without giving any thought to the current state of things. I envied them.

That’s right, me, a successful news anchor, was envious of a dozen African Cichlids. I smirked at the outlandish—yet true—idea.

S
oon, we had left the city behind and we found ourselves on a quiet road. It seemed quite clear as we looked as far as we could see in all directions. There were a few cars on the shoulder, but for the most part, it looked like it might just end up being smooth sailing for a little while.

The GPS began barking orders and we went straight for six more miles. Six miles on this clear road? Perhaps our luck was turning around. Johnston began stepping on the gas and for the first time during the trip, he exceeded the speed limit. Instead of crawling through mazes of traffic and debris, we were now hitting 55-60 mph!

We were cruising; passing small businesses and a couple of infected people here and there, but nothing like what we’d seen previously.

But then something big happened. A man darted out into the road, a seemingly healthy man. He was running from an infected person. He ran right in our path. Johnston slammed on the brakes and swerved away from him, but when he almost struck the infected person, he lost complete control of the vehicle.

I
opened my eyes and looked at the ground for a moment as I tried to find my equilibrium. After a moment, I realized that the van had flipped over. I couldn’t tell what we’d hit, but we were down for the count.

“Johnston…” I muttered. “You all right?”

I looked over to him, and saw that something had smashed right through his window and basically crushed his head. I reached over and checked his pulse. I knew what the result would be, but I had to check anyways. He was gone. I sat there and looked at him, the man who used to be my boss, a man I grew to look up to.

He was dead and I couldn’t help but think that he might have been the last person I would ever speak to. I wondered if Julia was doing okay. I hoped she’d found her family. I hoped she was doing better than me.

I looked around the van glad to be alive. My side of the van was lying on the pavement with the windows shattered and the windshield smashed up against a telephone pole. I figured it must have flipped and slid on one side until it hit the pole. I was very lucky to be alive, but very unlucky to be where I was. I didn’t see an easy way out of the wreckage. Then I saw that I might be able to climb out of Johnston’s window.

I decided to get moving. I went to unclick my seat belt but it was stuck. The button would not press down. I began to shake in panic. I pulled on the belt, hoping somehow it would open. No luck.

It wasn’t budging. I began searching for shards of glass large enough to cut through the belts. The pieces were pretty small and were from safety glass but I still had to try. I found one that showed some promise, but only ended up cutting up my hand rather than the belt.

I wanted to cry but nothing came out. Everything had happened so quickly. I looked at Johnston’s corpse and thought about the past few days.

I thought about Julia. I thought about the broadcasts and the words ‘stay where you are.’ Perhaps I should never have left the studio. There, I’d been as safe as my African Cichlids.

After thinking about the studio, I remembered Johnston’s last article on the website. I looked at his body and his chest pocket. It was within my reach.

I felt as though I should read it. Work was his life and I needed to read his last act. Somewhat reluctantly, I reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a folded-up piece of paper, slightly stained with his blood.

I unfolded it and began to read:

My name is Johnston Hall. I’m the producer here at Channel Five News. It’s been an honor to report to you the news of this outbreak.

Arthriphagy is something we may never understand or conquer. This is a new chapter in the history of humankind. I hope we will prevail and carry on. I hope that people like Andrew Helms and Julia Blackfield will lead us into the days of tomorrow.

During these last few days, we’ve stuck it out until the end. I believe we won’t survive this. We’ve informed any survivors out there with lifesaving information. This has been my goal in life. I’ve helped bring the most important news ever to the public’s attention.

Perhaps this was my purpose. If so, I’m glad that I’ve had the privilege to help in saving some lives.

I can only hope Andrew and Julia feel the same way. Thank you both. And to anyone reading this, thank you. I wish you all the best of luck in this trying time.

This is Johnston Hall for Channel Five News. Signing off.

I stared at the words on the page. They were powerful. I felt his voice in them. I slowly folded the paper back up and put it in his chest pocket.

“Thanks, Johnston.”

Then I heard some kind of scratching noise. I looked up and saw an infected man trying to reach through the broken windshield.

He was staring right at me with those dead eyes. I was still trapped in my seatbelt, there was no way for me to escape. I looked at him for a moment, then closed my eyes. I waited for the end.

MARC

“
I
t’s for you, Marc! Phone! Marc, get the phone!”

“Okay Mom, I got it, you can hang up now! Hello?”

“Hey, Marc, it’s Rich Jacobs from the store.”

“Oh, hi Rich,” I said. Rich was the manager of the deli at the supermarket I worked at. I was immediately very curious why he was calling me.

“Sorry to bother you. I know it’s Friday and you probably have plans, but would you mind coming in today? You can work the full day for time-and-a-half.”

As I hung up the phone, I nearly did a flip with excitement. I’m going to community college in the Fall and need all the money I can get. I was looking at a solid eleven hours of time-and-a-half today! I quickly calculated it out and saw I’d be getting roughly a hundred and forty dollars. It would all go straight to the bank!

I got ready for work. My mother had the day off, but had been watching TV all day. While I was grabbing a glass of milk before leaving, she barged into the kitchen and screamed, “Where the hell are you going?”

I couldn’t help but smirk and think of all the recent diseases that we were supposed to be scared of, like the avian flu, EEE, West Nile, SARS, bubonic; the list went on and on.

Sure, I understand that these did claim lives and were a big deal for some people. But unless you’re very young, very old, or immune compromised, it most likely wasn’t going to be a threat to you. I didn’t qualify for any of those prerequisites.

I
hopped on my bike and while riding, I noticed a severe lack of people. Cars drove by sporadically and much faster than usual. I had about three blocks to ride before I’d reach the store and I saw absolutely no one outside other than those cars.

When I reached the store, there were about fifteen cars in the parking lot. It looked like an incredibly slow day.

I was greeted immediately by Rich when I entered the store. “Oh good, you’re here!” he said, “Go punch in and start unloading the pallets for me.”

H
ours later, I had unloaded most of the stock. There were only a few customers in the store. One wasn’t looking too good. He was looking for the Pharmacy, only no one had shown up for that section, so Rich had to assist him with finding the most efficient over-the-counter stuff. I felt bad for the man—he really didn’t look too good.

His leg was all bandaged up and he was complaining that the hospital had turned him away. Rich and I talked about it after we helped him out. Rich said it looked like he had a bad infection—not the flu.

Rich still seemed weary of the shopper, as did I. So, after our talk, he decided to go inform Linda—the cashier. She was a middle-aged woman, very nice and mother-like.

She had trained me during my first week and was constantly telling me things like, “You’re such a nice boy, don’t go off to college and become a drinker now.”

I explained to her that it was just community college and I’d still be here part time while still living at home. But, she still seemed concerned that I’d adopt that lifestyle. And, to be honest, I wished I could. I wished I was going away to school, but we didn’t have enough money for that.

We didn’t have enough money for this school either—hence the reason I was working my ass off at this job all summer, and the reason I was one of the only people to show up during this possible pandemic scare.

As I stood there in the soda aisle, pondering over my life choices and for some reason Linda’s opinion of them, Rich’s voice came over the loud speaker and said, “MARC TO AISLE TEN FOR ASSISTANCE PLEASE! MARC!”

I quickly put down the boxes of soda and sprinted down the empty aisle. A couple of aisles over, I found Rich, standing over the sick man. He’d collapsed to the floor.

I quickly ran through the store, calling Linda’s name. I came around the corner and found her standing at the register, reading a magazine.

“Sir, are you okay?” I asked. When I looked past him I saw Rich sitting against the shelves grasping his arm, which was bleeding profusely.

I did as he said and threw the kit. It landed on the floor and the man turned back towards Rich when he heard the sound of the kit crashing against the linoleum. Rich grabbed the kit and started sprinting down the aisle away from the sick man.

I didn’t know what to do, so I ran back to the front of the store and found Linda at the register. She was holding the phone and listening. Then she slammed the phone down on the counter and shook her head.

Rich shook his head and stopped at the register. He plopped the kit down on the counter and held his arm for a moment while shaking his head.