Fear of the Dead (12 page)

There were six recording booths in the station, each with equipment more expensive and complex than Linus had ever seen. As a man whose only experience with broadcasting equipment came from when he used to be a boy scout, Linus had no idea what it was he was looking at. The console had more buttons and slides than Linus could visually count. He may have been a little more tech-savvy than the average chef, but operating a ham radio was one thing. The switchboard contraption standing before him was altogether something else. To say nothing of the machine’s table sized length, it was definitely not going to run on the portable power generator he’d been using to operate his ten pound ham radio.

“
Fuck.”

12:28 PM

I arrived at the KTLU radio station about, say three hours ago. I haven’t been able to figure out what to do, so I’ve been sitting on my ass inside this cheap cafeteria of theirs. You’d think a place like this would have better vending machines. Other than cheap candy bars, there isn’t much left that’s edible in here but some oatmeal on the shelf. I packed some food with me, but I’ve got no mind to double back and get them.

No. Candy bars will have to do for now. I have to get started on the radio. I’ve never seen half this stuff before let alone operated one. Jesus Christ I’ve got a hell of a learning curve ahead of me.

12:43 PM

Before the infection, I remembered there was construction work going on at Mission Street. It was on the same day. Same hour, same time. Guys in hard hats were going in and out of the sewers. They were doing something. I don’t know what. Anyway, the point is that they had a power generator running at the time. Thing was the size of an engine. Maybe it’s there right now. If I can get to it, and if I can bring it back, I might able to power up the console.

I’m leaving my tape recorder here, in case I don’t come back. San Fran was crawling with infected the last time I left. I don’t see any right now, but that could just mean that they’re hiding.

Christ have they gotten good at hiding.

Anyway, I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Wish me luck.

12:58 PM

Linus drove his truck to the nearby construction site. The billboards and posters, which were usually replaced each week on a normal day, now hadn't changed in the long four months since he’d been away. George Clooney, Brad Pitt, and Matt Damon were still on the sides of buses promoting Ocean’s Eleven, which came out on December last year. Another movie, The Lord of The Rings, with Elijah Woods’ face half-cast in shadow, holding a golden ring in the palm of his hand. Other than that, most of San Francisco advertised (as it always had) the same department stores that were located not two blocks away from any given street.

A French chocolate shop nearby made him think of cherry cordials; Kerry’s favorites. He tried to imagine what he would have said to her if they ever met again. It was hard not knowing where she was, and yet seeing her in everything around him. Department stores, outdoor trinket shops, and antiques dealerships. No matter which way he looked, there was always something to remind him of her.

The San Francisco roads were small, and Linus had to compensate for the unreliable steering on his truck by keeping his speed excessively low. Nevertheless, he arrived at Powell much sooner than he'd expected. And much to his satisfaction, all was as it was on the day he left.

The power generator was still there. He could see it on the sidewalk lying next to the orange cones surrounding the open sewer cap.

Cautious as always, Linus looked at every which direction he could before closing in. He parked vertically on the sidewalk so that the cargo end was as close to the generator as it could be without touching the curb. He stepped out, left the door wide open, and slowly opened the trunk. Again, the pull rope went up faster than was preferable. Only time would tell if anyone heard it.

The generator had hind wheels, which saved him the effort of having to carry the whole damn thing on his arms. After pulling the ramp out from under the truck, Linus wheeled the machine inside.

The plan went without a hitch. The only problem now was the fact that the power button on the machine was on, which meant that it had been left on for over four months straight. Not surprisingly it was out of fuel. Fortunately, the truck he was driving wasn’t.

He brought the generator back to the KTLU building, and aligned the fuel cap with that of the truck’s.

Now all he needed was a pipe.

Linus searched the radio station. One of the office rooms had a fish tank. The water was rotten brown, and if there were any fish inside, he couldn’t see them now.

The tank was rested atop a cherry wood commode. Inside its drawers, Linus saw amongst other things, packets of guppy food, a water conditioner, and a cleaning tube for the tank.

The tube was a little small, but Linus was in a hurry to get this done. He took the tube outside, where he connected one end to the truck, and the other a few inches from his lips.

“
Goddamn it,” he cursed out loud, and breathed in a few times before blowing in. It worked, but not without leaving the bitter taste of gasoline in his mouth. Linus spat and spat until all that came out was his own saliva.

Not enough. The taste was still there, and he needed to get it out.

Linus chowed down on a few buttermilk biscuits that he brought with him from his stay back in Costco. It didn’t completely do away with the taste, or for that matter the toxic smell. But after a whole packet’s worth of biscuits, his mouth was as clean as it was going to get. And at any rate, he had more important things to worry about.

With the power generator fueled and ready to go, Linus brought it up to the studio where he left his recorder.

1:15 PM

Hope I didn’t keep you too long. A little later than expected maybe, but better late than never, right?

I brought the power generator with me. I had it fueled with the truck I drove over here. It’s a good thing too. The truck and the generator both take unleaded gas, so it all works out.

Things should go without a hitch now. But don’t quote me on it just yet. Save the celebrations for, say five minutes?

I’m powering it up right now. Fingers crossed.

1:21 PM

The radio console ran on several different outlets. The floor underneath the table was a jumbled mess of power cables and adapters. Rather than put the generator to work right away, Linus spent the last five minutes unfurling and trying to figure out what each wire was plugged to. He took away whatever wasn’t necessary (cell phone chargers, lamp lights, etc), and connected the ones he thought were important to an extension cord, which in turn he plugged into his generator. Not a second after he did it did life suddenly spark before his eyes. The radio switchboard shot to life.

1:23 PM

It works! Jesus Christ I actually got this thing to work. Goddamn it, okay. So uh…what the hell do I do now?

2:11 PM

There was an operator’s manual on the bookshelf behind him. For the past half hour or so, Linus read up on how exactly his machine was supposed to work. During that time he kept the switchboard unplugged so as to save on fuel, and to keep the generator from ringing in his ears.

It took him a bit of time to absorb the information. The manual, though helpful, wasn’t as easy on the layman as he’d hoped. Plus, there was a lot of short-hand at work on the station’s consoles. Everything from wiring to spare equipment, to the labels on the board. Though Linus managed to learn a lot from what he read, he placed his greatest hopes on picking it up through trial and error. It was a slow and painstaking process. But eventually, he got it.

The studio’s switchboard and microphone were all hooked up to a computer that Linus had first wrongly assumed unimportant. He plugged them back inside the extra slots on his extension cord. He primed the power generator and booted back the console. The machine came up, and Linus inched his lips on the microphone.

“
Hello. Can anyone hear me? This is a general distress call to any evacuation units that might preside in the San Francisco, East Bay area. Please. Can anyone hear me? I am in the KTLU radio station. I repeat, I am broadcasting from 99.3 KTLU. If anybody is out there, and if anyone can hear me, please respond.”

Linus paused. He waited, but nothing came in from his headsets. The computer recorded his voice, as did the board. He saw the dials fluctuate with the sound of his voice, going up whenever he raised his tone, then dropping whenever he stopped. The machines picked it all up, which now raised the question; was there a signal?

Linus searched for a portable radio, which was surprisingly harder to find than he’d anticipated.
After a long search, he found one at a drawer inside a conference room. He tuned the channel to 99.3, then recorded once again.

“
If you can hear me, please respond.”

It was hard to make out the words coming from the speaker cupped to his ear. The power generator parked next door was nothing if not intrusive. Linus could scarcely hear himself think let alone speak. Thus, in order to tell for sure whether it worked, he set his recorder to play beside the microphone, then left the room altogether.

The sound of the generator was hard to ignore, even when he was five rooms away. It's high pitched mechanical cackle showed up on his transmission, but then again so did his voice.

My name is Linus Baxter. I am 34 years old. Two hours ago I left Palmer County, where I was living for three weeks with three other survivors. Their names are Grace Minien, Atton Stone, and Eli Desmond. We recently came into contact with another survivor. Her name is Vanessa Lowen. I am recording this tape for one reason only. In the event of my death, I need whoever is listening to this to know that there are four, maybe two survivors located inside a Costco warehouse store at 1232 Prior Lane.

It worked.
2:34 PM
Now that he knew he could broadcast, Linus set his sights to providing a means to receiving messages. He sneered at his own stupidity, for having wrongly thought that he could just tell people to call in. Even if they all had the right number for the station, there were no active phone lines to call from. They'd have to find some other means of reaching to him. And he in turn, would have to find some way to reach them.

That was when he remembered the ham radio inside his truck.

“
Hello. My name is Linus Baxter. If there is anyone that can hear me, I advise that you contact me through a radio transceiver. Again. My name is Linus Baxter. If anyone can hear me, find a radio transceiver, and reach me at the following channel. I will be monitoring the station for as long as possible. Please. If you can at all, do what you can to reach me. Once again, the name is Linus Baxter. I am relaying this message and my signal to anyone that can hear me now.”

Linus repeated the frequency code of his radio transceiver over the air at least fifteen times before eventually giving up, and taking a break. He rested his eyes, and fell half asleep. It'd been a tiring day. And now he wanted nothing more than to rest, finally, in celebration of his success.

4:18 PM

The time according to Linus Baxter’s cell phone was 4:18 PM. Outside, it looked more like six.

Linus stretched his arms and yawned. For the past two hours he’d kept the radio console disconnected, but his transceiver online; the thinking being that while he wasn’t sending a signal, he was ready to receive one at any time.

Linus turned his spine until he joints cracked. He rubbed his eyes until he saw something standing on the doorway. She was tall, blonde, wore a long pink shirt, and jeans with holes on her knees. She was pale, and had a young complexion. Linus recognized her the instant he saw her face.

It was Erin.

Her clothes were clean. There was no blood anywhere on her. It looked like she hadn’t even been bit. And yet from the color of her eyes, Linus could tell she wasn’t alive.

He jumped from his chair, and used it to put some distance between himself and the infected. Erin, or what was once Erin, lowered her teeth and growled. She spread her arms apart to cover more ground, to widen her reach. Linus backed away.

“
Get back,” he said, his lips quivering with fear. “Please. Get back.”

But Erin didn't. Instead she stepped forward, inching her way to her human prey.

Erin unwittingly blocked the doorway. Linus was cornered. There was nothing he could do, and absolutely nothing he could say that would keep her from trying to eat him alive.

“
Fuck,” he gasped soundlessly.

Erin closed in.

“
Fuck.”

So close to finding a way out, and yet so much closer still to dying.

She stepped closer again, and it was now that Linus realized he had only one chance to act. He did what he could to keep his wits about him, ignoring the rush of panic that was prattling throughout his veins.

Only one chance to make it out alive. Concentrate asshole. Concentrate.