Endemic Rise of the Plague (9 page)

Roxy's street is shaped similar to goal post uprights. Five houses
are along either sidewalk with each end of her street turning southward. This track of town had been built in the seventies with each home being uniquely apart from all the rest, aside from the fact that they are all single story homes.

Over a dozen frenzied citizens were running wildly in and out of houses
, and assaulting one another. Pocketing her phone, Roxy stood barefoot on her front porch, paralyzed by the sight before her. Sulfur contaminated the summer night’s air, burning her nose as she inhaled, almost prompting a sneeze. Smoke from the flaming car across the street billowed to well beyond the roof tops of the houses within view. The coral and lemony colored flames stretching out of the vehicle licked the branches of a nearby tree, as screaming people ran savagely through the street. An unfamiliar man attempted to get into a neighboring house, pounding his fists in fury on the door. Another man, escaping from a house further down the street, was being chased by two other ruthless-looking men, covered in an oily substance. It took a few moments for Roxy to digest—but not truly understand—the events transpiring in her neighborhood.

What in the world is going on?

Screeching tires squealed two houses down as an Escalade peeled out of the driveway. The white SUV sped erratically down the street, running down two or three pedestrians. Roxy cringed at the sight, nearly covering her eyes but incapable of looking away. The vehicle accelerated, not even a hint of slowing down. As it rounded the corner, a black half ton truck slammed into it. Both vehicles skated across the asphalt, until finally coming to a stop at the corner lamp post. The twenty-five foot pole came crashing down into the road, extinguishing the light and littering the ground with shattered glass. Roxy cupped her hand over her mouth, gasping as tears balanced on her eyelids. She turned to go back inside,
I have to call the police
.

Almost to the door, she felt something take hold of her arm. Breathless, she looked at the intruder holding her arm hostage.
A woman with a fossilized look upon her face stood before Roxy.

“Can I come inside? We’ll die out here,” the woman was barely audible, out of breath, sweating and hemorrhaging.

“Yeah, are you okay? You’re bleeding,” Roxy pointed to the woman’s right wrist. The woman, still holding Roxy’s elbow, yanked her into the house.

“Hey!” Roxy squealed.

The woman said nothing, slamming the door and locking the deadbolt.

“What the hell is going on out there?” Roxy demanded.

The ladies stood poised at Roxy’s side, eerily eyeing the stranger.

“I don’t know, some of the people out there, are…” the woman dropped her head, sighing. “Some of the people out there have gone mad. Strangers, our neighbors, even my own family have gone insane. They are killing out there. I was almost killed…by my own son! He did this!” She waved to her bloody wrist, before cupping her face in her palms and sobbing uncontrollably.

Roxy dashed to the kitchen and seized a towel from stove rack, with her dogs following her every step. The woman slowly followed, her entire body trembling as Roxy grabbed the woman’s arm about half way up and wrapped the towel around her wrist, securing it with a knot.

“This is really bad.
Is that a bite mark? We need to get you to the hospital. Plus we should probably get out of here anyway, at least until the police get everything under control,” Roxy said, tapping the screen of her fuchsia cell phone. A moment later she pocketed the phone. “Nine, one, one is busy. Have you ever heard of that? We should go now. Ladies, let’s load up.”

The dogs impatiently raced toward a door in the kitchen that led to the garage, jumping and barking at it.

“I’m not feeling well, but I don’t think we should go anywhere. It’s dangerous out there. They will kill us,” the woman said slowly. “You don’t understand what’s going on out there. I can barely believe it, and I’ve seen it firsthand.”

Roxy cautiously studied the terrified woman. She looked to be in her late forties, her long, blonde hair saturated in sweat and blood. She wore a white satin nightgown that had an array of mud and blood stains all over it. She stood shoeless in Roxy’s kitchen, dirt and blood seemed to be caked in every crevice of the woman from her fingernails to the wrinkles on her chest, looking as if she had just rolled in dirt mere moments before.

“Listen, what’s your name?” Roxy asked, realizing that they hadn’t even exchanged names. She retrieved her brown blouse and boots and put them on the bar stool.

“Ann, my name is Ann Buxton. I live three houses down, across the street.”

“Well, I’m Roxy,” Roxy said looking at the blood soaked towel wrapped around Ann’s wrist. “Okay Ann, we just put that towel on your wrist about a minute ago, and look at it. It’s almost completely soaked with blood. I’m not a doctor, but this isn’t good. You are losing too much blood. Either we take our chances with the people outside to get you to the hospital, or we can stay here, and you will likely die in, say, an hour, if that.”

Roxy had a difficult time grasping the situation outside. While she had no reason to disbelieve what Ann
explained about their neighbors, Roxy couldn’t bring herself to imagine that this all could, in fact, be happening. She steadily pieced together the things she saw during her brief time outside—the neighbors chasing each other, the SUV that ran down pedestrians in the road, the accident and the account of what happened to Ann. Whatever was really going on out there, she felt certain that it would be dangerous, but Ann could die if not treated for her wounded wrist.
Even with the dangers outside, we have to get to the hospital, and away from this chaos.

“I don’t know,” Ann groaned cradling her face in her hands, then running her fingers through her hair. “I think that I’d...”

Suddenly, a fragmenting shatter from the living room resounded through the house. Both women’s eyes locked on one another, with a
what was that
, look on both their faces. The dogs raced toward the sound, howling and barking. The women sprinted after, rounding the kitchen wall just behind the canines. As they came around the corner, a warm breeze rushed in, wafting over their bodies. The oversized bay window had been shattered.

Three maniacal outsiders staggered through the window toward them, two men and a woman. Roxy stood, feet planted as she studied the scene within her home. This home held many memories, too many to count. The overall feeling of this place had always been of comfort and safety, until now. Whether escaping neighborhood kids picking on her
while she grew up or avoiding the ongoing drama among her friends, her home had always been a sanctuary. These invading strangers were desecrating, vandalizing her home, waging a war on a reluctant battleground.
Who are these people and what is wrong with them? How can this really be happening?
As the trio traipsed through the opening, trampling the drapes and the downed curtain rod, Roxy recalled the tireless shopping trips her mother had made to pick out those window coverings. These intruders weren’t just stomping on a bulk meaningless fabric, they were stomping on the very soul of the home in which she was raised.

All
three trespassers bled from wounds caused by the window shards, and seemed oblivious to the fact that they had just fallen through a glass window. Color had vacated their faces. With blackened-out eyes, they appeared sickly. The woman had a large shard of glass stuck in her neck, and yet she and the others shambled forward. Barking and growling at the intruders, the dogs backed up with every staggered step the strangers made. The blackened eyes of the invaders were void of all life, but somehow seemed to project hysteria.

“What the,” Roxy said pulling both hands up to her scalp, then running
them through her lengthy hair, dampened with perspiration.

“We have to go now!” Ann shrieked, grabbing Roxy’s arm. “They will bite you, let’s go!”

The taller of the two men made eye contact with Roxy, then began charging forward with a newfound surge of adrenaline. Ann dashed to the left, jerking Roxy’s arm and pulling her out of the path of the tall man. He had charged at them with such momentum that he ran right in to the kitchen table. He crashed to the floor taking a chair with him. By now the two others took notice of occupants of the house. The woman screeched in a maniacal tone as she charged toward them with the same intensity as the tall man.

Side stepping to her hutch, Roxy retrieved Kate’s softball bat from the unzipped duffle. With no hesitation, she s
wung the bat at the woman’s skull. The woman’s head whipped over to the side crackling like summertime campfire. She fell to the floor, sliding to a stop near the wall.

Guilt crept
into Roxy’s mind. She had never in her entire life been in a fight or hit anyone with intent to hurt them. Her bottom lip quivered as tears began to filled her eyes. She had no doubt that she had to do whatever necessary to keep these insane intruders away from herself and Ann, but Roxy couldn’t help but feel unnerved at the entire scene before her.

The shorter man’s were eyes fixed on the girls as he staggered forward, but not with the same quickness as the two before him. At this time, the taller of the men,
rose back to his feet. Roxy lost sight of Ann, as she raced toward the taller man and cracked him in the back of the neck with the bat. Ann, returning with a carving knife in her right hand, raced toward the slower man and thrust the blade into his chest. The man seemed unaffected by the knife protruding from his body, instead, he grabbed at Ann’s arms snapped his mouth at her. She wiggled her arms so that he could not take hold of her.
He tried to bite her.

“We have to go! They aren’t going to stop!” Ann shouted running back toward Roxy.

The woman climbed to her feet, with her head cocked to the side as though her neck were broken.

“Come on ladies, let’s load up,” Roxy said
once more to her dogs, she whacked the woman in the back so that she fell again.

Her dogs obediently raced for the door in the kitchen. Opening the door, Ann and the dogs entered the garage first. Roxy snagged her blouse and boots with her free hand from the barstool and followed, backing in through the doorway, bat still in hand. She took one last glimpse, and could see the slow man closing in on the kitchen—knife in chest and all, while the other two were scrambling to their feet. She closed herself in the garage, lowered the bat and took up her keys from the wall hook.

Ann and the dogs were already in the vehicle. Roxy slid into the driver’s seat, starting the engine of her mid-sized sports utility vehicle. She tossed her boots and shirt in the back, sliding the bat behind the passenger seat and buckling up. With Ann following suit by yanking her safety belt on as well, Roxy pressed the button on the remote attached to her sun visor and watched the garage door begin to open.

W
heezing and salivating, Ann held her wrist. The blood-soaked towel streamed blood, as it could not stop the wound from hemorrhaging.

“Okay, we’re outta here, and we’ll get you to the hospital,” Roxy declared, in an attempt at reassurance, although she wasn’t certain if she was seeking to reassure Ann—or herself.

“Yeah, I’m feeling a little light headed. I don’t think I have too much time,” Ann slurred, breathlessly.

When the garage door reached the top, Roxy backed out of the garage and down the driveway. The street upon which she lived was in utter chaos. Smoke lingered in the air as there were several fires now, including the house directly across from Roxy’s. Neighbors were making their best attempts at eluding the murders that pursued them. Most of the murders were charging in the same fashion as two of the intruders in her house only moments before. Although
, a few were also shuffling along like the shorter man that Ann stabbed. At the end of the street, she turned the vehicle and slowly drove down the road, trying not to draw too much attention to her car and not to hit anyone. She also didn’t want another car to come out from nowhere and hit her like the accident she saw earlier. As she rounded the corner to the next street, a man stood directly in her path. Gently, she turned the steering wheel, veering the car the left, away from the man. She watched him as she began to pass. He thrust his body up against the passenger door. Roxy’s dogs barked, jumping at the back passenger window. Blood oozed from the man’s nose and mouth, leaving behind a bloody smudge upon the window before he fell to the ground. She held in a gasp as she accelerated, struggling to control the anxiety that boiled within.

“Okay, the hospital is only a couple of miles away. Just hold on Ann. I’ll get you there,” Roxy said steadily, depressing the gas pedal a little further with her bare foot.

“Do you think that those things,” Ann swallowed hard, “those people, are everywhere, or just in our neighborhood?”

Roxy hadn’t put much thought into this. She hadn’t had time to t
ry to analyze the predicament they were in now, nor the events that had just occurred in her house just moments ago. Things happened so fast. She looked at the time on the stereo.

I just woke up from my nap seven minutes ago, she thought. She hoped that these things, these people, were only in her neighborhood. As she rounded corner after corner and approached street after street, the mayhem seemed everywhere.