Infection: Alaskan Undead Apocalypse (8 page)

Soon, the three of them were sitting in a thick and growing pool of red that coursed out on the tiled floor and found its way under the door and into the hall.

Officer Ivanoff, the Anchorage policeman in Dr. Caldwell’s group, was dispatched to retrieve the three wounded people, so the group could continue on. When he rounded a corner, he immediately saw the blood on the floor. He stopped and stood motionless and quiet. The door to the office was still shut and anything leaving the room would have to pass through the crimson puddle and would thus be forced to leave footprints wherever it trod. There was absolutely no evidence of anyone or anything having left the office. He stood there for a moment or two not sure of what to do. He did, however, instinctively remove his pistol from its holster.

He couldn’t bring himself to just leave without at least verifying his and the doctor’s suspicions, so he asked tentatively, “How we doin’ in there? Anyone awake?”

He started to step forward but jumped back, his eyes wide with shock, when the face appeared in the window of the office door. It was the woman in the short skirt. Her once smooth, dark skin was faded almost gray except around her eyes which were darker than her skin had been before. Her hungry eyes looked into the hallway and caught sight of Officer Ivanoff. From behind the door, he could hear her deep, chesty grunting and moaning that resonated with a primal hunger that turned the police officer’s stomach. It was the first time he had ever felt like prey, and the feeling sapped all of his strength.

The grey-skinned woman started to press herself against the door, trying to get at her quarry. He couldn’t move. He was revolted and terrified and utterly paralyzed. She leaned into the door harder and harder, pressing her face against the glass and streaking it with the blood that had spurted from the open wounds on her neck onto her cheeks.

Dr. Caldwell was then at his side, having responded to the sounds he was hearing. He was standing to the side and slightly behind the police officer when he saw the woman behind the glass. He stood there and watched.

Officer Ivanoff, never taking his eyes off of the woman, asked “Did you lock that door, Doc?”

“No. I’m guessing you didn’t either.”

“Nope.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing. One good piece of news.”

“And what’s that?”

The doctor nodded his head and thought aloud, “Perhaps these things are not able to even retain the simplest of motor functions. Opening a door with a turning door handle may actually be beyond them.”

“Well, how have they been getting through all the doors all day long then?”

“My guess is that...”

“Your guess? Your guess? What do you mean, your ‘guess’?”

“You act like I’m an authority here on this. Until a short while ago, I would have said that all of this was an impossibility that only could happen in science fiction. Again, my
guess
is that the other doors were opened by sheer weight of numbers. When the door is actually pushed from its frame, it doesn’t matter whether they can use door knobs or not...they’re comin’ through.”

Out of frustration over not being able to get through, the woman finally smashed her head through the glass of the small window on the door. Still unable to pass through, the only immediate result was that now one of her arms was extending into the hallway and her moaning was that much louder.

Her moaning solo soon became a trio as the other two recently expired souls joined her. Dr. Caldwell, shaking his head, unnecessarily uttered, “We’d better get going again. It won’t take long for the three of them to force that door open and the others can’t be that much farther behind us now.”

“Yeah. I know. Ya know that pretty soon we’re gonna run outta places to run to, right? We only got so many floors before we get to the top.”

“I know, officer.”

“Well, what are we gonna do when we get to the top?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m hoping that Simon has the answers.”

And with that, a phone in an open office next to them started to ring.

Neil and the group with him were traveling west on Northern Lights Boulevard. That was really the only option left to them after they finally exited the Fred Meyer and Tesoro parking lots. The maelstrom had nearly reached them and was actually beginning to envelop their north and southbound escape routes.

Neil just kept thinking to himself,
just keep moving...get away
. It didn’t matter to where. All that mattered was getting there.

Jules looked over the back seat through a crack in the piles of looted supplies. She didn’t know what she was looking at or why she was looking anymore. All she knew was that somewhere back there was her family. All of these strange grownups were acting scared and really nervous and that made her scared and really nervous. It was frustrating though, because she wasn’t certain why she was made to feel scared and nervous. Events had unfolded so quickly that she hadn’t really been able to keep pace. All that she could really remember was that her brother was sick and her mom and dad were trying to get him better. If Danny wasn’t with her, she doubted that she could be there either. She would have been too scared to go with these strangers, even though they seemed like kind people that only wanted to protect her. She trusted Danny though.

And Danny. He wasn’t quite sure what he was feeling. He was terrified of the possibilities and yet... Inside every adolescent boy is a hero myth waiting to play itself out. The hero rising above catastrophe to triumph and everything always worked out for the best. Sometimes the hero died but usually he found a way out. That was how the movies were. That was how video games were.

He wasn’t in any hurry to start volunteering to fight, but then again, the best heroes were always the reluctant champions. He would watch the grownups with the guns and learn how they worked. Maybe he could stick close to Neil. He seemed smart and like he actually knew what was going on. He was the one who had got all this stuff in the back of the van and then put them on the road. Danny hoped that they were on a road out of town, but just to be moving felt good.

Unfortunately, there were only two roads that led out of Anchorage: the Glenn Highway that headed north toward the Matanuska-Susitna Valley and the Seward Highway that headed south toward the Kenai Peninsula. They were currently on neither road, but they were headed in exactly the opposite direction from which the noise and commotion had come. Danny knew none of the information about the roads. He was keenly aware of the last point and was very grateful for that decision by Neil.

Dr. Caldwell’s group was one floor away from the roof, but had his hands full with getting there. They were ambushed at the main exit to the roof and were forced to retreat deep into some administrative offices. Unfortunately, most of the doors behind them were glass.

He answered the ringing phone on the room’s desk. “Hello, Simon.”

“I don’t have much time and neither do you. Above your heads is a heating duct. If you spread yourselves out enough, it should be able to hold your collective weight. Head north in the duct and find an access panel on your right about a hundred feet in. Go through it, climb the ladder and you’ll be on the roof. Transportation will be there shortly. You’ve got the last ride outta here, Doctor.”

“Will we see you there Simon?”

“No, I’m afraid I am trapped in the control room and it’s just a matter of time. Nowhere to go, you know. Glad I could help.”

The line went dead.

“Okay, Simon says we got a way out above our heads. Up through the ceiling and into the duct. I guess I should go first since I know where we’re going. Let’s get moving right away. He said we haven’t got much time.”

Simon was right. Officer Ivanoff was the last up into the duct. He reached back with his foot and kicked away the chair they had used as a boost. Hanging precariously, he saw entire walls of glass come down as their pursuers tracked them relentlessly. The sound was terrific and shook the duct beneath them.

The doctor found the access panel and was soon on the roof, but there was nothing there. No magic carpet to ferry them away from danger. How long did they have? he wondered. He looked over the side of the tower to the ground below. It wasn’t the tallest building in Anchorage, but it was tall enough to know that it was suicide to jump. Besides, the bedlam below was staggering. It was a scene right out of Hell. Neither Milton nor Dante could have imagined a more vivid depiction of absolute terror. And he was about to become a part of it.

He vomited over the edge. He leaned into the railing and wretched the early morning breakfast he’d eaten. Chunks of moist bagel with a broth of Earl Grey tea sprayed out of his mouth, burning his nose and back of his throat as it exited. He was pretty sure that he was crying but it didn’t even really matter anymore.

He stood himself up straight and wiped his face clean with his once-white lab coat. He turned and looked at his party of followers. “I’m sorry. There’s nowhere left to run. Maybe Simon’s chariot already left town without us,” his words, voice, and demeanor were all swollen and heavy with regret.

The roof access door, not far from where they all stood, was suddenly jarred from the inside. One of the maintenance men, Nestor, said approvingly, “Those doors are locked. Maybe they’ll get bored or forget about us or something. Maybe they’ll just wander away.”

Officer Ivanoff bit his lower lip and counted his remaining bullets. It wasn’t good news. They were defenseless and trapped. Shots suddenly rang out from the opposite side of the hospital. And there, sitting gracefully and eager on another rooftop was the red, white, and blue Air Evacuation Helicopter, the rotors already starting to turn as the beautiful bird came to life. The shooter, an apparent crewman, was running across the helipad and threw himself into the open side door just as the chopper was lifting into the air. Hot on the heels of the liftoff was a crowd of the monsters, several of which hurled themselves over the edge of the tower as they tried in vain follow the helicopter.

To everyone’s relief, the helicopter abruptly turned and nosed itself toward them. It was an excruciating moment before the aircraft was hovering just above them. The pilot lowered the craft slowly and then stopped just short of the surface.

Dr. Caldwell correctly surmised that the pilot was not touching all the way down. He and Ivanoff helped lift one after the other of their group up into the doorway. Dr. Caldwell was the last to be hoisted onto the helicopter, so he was closest to the still open door as they motored away. From this vantage point, he could truly appreciate the gravity of the situation from which they had been removed.

The carnage that he had been able to see while they were still on the tower was merely the tip of the virtual iceberg. The UAA bookstore was smoldering and its recently refinished parking lot was littered with corpses; dozens of bodies, some of which were moving, were lying twisted and contorted amongst the bright yellow stripes. Dr. Caldwell knew full well that the moving bodies weren’t survivors or merely wounded. They would soon join the ranks of the ghouls that were streaming down Providence Drive below.

Early morning motorists that chose to listen to self-help tapes, sales training demos, or CDs instead of the radio drove, tragically unaware that they were headed straight into the open mouth of hell. The doctor shook his head in disbelief.

The pilot motioned to his headset and then pointed to another hanging on the firewall behind him. The doctor connected the cords as he had done in helicopters in Iraq and gave a thumbs-up signal.

The pilot said, “Simon said good luck.”

“And Simon?”

“I was on with him when those things got through the door. It didn’t sound pretty.”

Dr. Caldwell chewed the inside of his cheek and nodded.

“Hey, Doc, I got some more not so good news.”

“Yeah?”

“I got about enough fuel with this many people aboard to get us airborne long enough to find another spot to land. I’m guessing Merrill Field is a mess already or soon will be so I’m not heading us that way.”

Dr. Caldwell suggested, “What about out toward Kincaid? Kulis is out that way and we got Anchorage International between there and here.”

“Yeah, but that ain’t necessarily a good thing Doc. It could get kinda dicey through there if people are in a hurry gettin’ outta town, ya know.”

“Got any better ideas?”

“We’re on it. One more thing, Doc. Can you help out Stan here? I think he may have had a closer call than he wanted.”

“What happened?”

Stan, in the co-pilot seat, looked back and showed Dr. Caldwell the bite wound on his right hand. His flight suit’s sleeve was already saturated with blood that was flowing heavily out of the swollen tear in the skin and muscle tissue in the fleshy part of his hand between the thumb and index finger.

Dr. Caldwell held his breath and did his best to not betray his feelings and said, “I’ll do my best,” and smiled.