The Dark Knight (Apocalypse Weird 2) (9 page)

Cory stood, breathing heavily in the
thick darkness beyond the fence.  The night-scent of the pine trees was heavy
all about him.  He was on the side of a hill that led down to the main road
outside his neighborhood.

His head darted this way and that, looking for something,
anything, familiar.  He followed the slope of the ground downward, the trees
and brush clutching at him, scratching him, pulling at his cape.  His mask felt
hot around his eyes.  He pulled it aside and quickly wiped sweat away.  Then he
donned it again so no one would know he was just Cory.

He was breathing heavily.

“I’m Batman,” he whispered.

“I’m Batman.”

He turned on his flashlight.  Shining it around, he could
see nothing but the close trees rising off into the night above him.  Stars
shone up there in the empty spaces beyond the tips of the pines.

“I’m Batman,” he said one last time and then continued
downhill, weaving in and out of the brush until he tumbled down a sudden steep
drop and landed on a wide cracked sidewalk.

He was on the main road leading downhill from the
neighborhood to the shopping center where the pharmacy waited.

“Go get the bag from Dr. Liu,” he reminded himself as he
began to wonder why he was out in the night all by himself.  Then he thought of
Mrs. Sheinman who seemed very sick.

He looked at the wide curving street.  He had never been
allowed to cross it alone.  Only if he went with someone else.  And only at
crosswalks. 

“When the man turns green then walk across and don’t stop,
Cory.”

The crosswalk was way back up the hill, and the streetlights
were out along the street.  No cars passed him in the darkness.

“Mrs. Sheinman is sick so I have to hurry, Daddy,” he said
aloud to the stillness of the empty road.  Besides, he thought, I’m Batman. 
Batman can do things Cory can’t.  He shot his right hand into the air, aiming
it at a tall house rising from behind the wall of a neighborhood on the far
side of the street. 

“
Bhuuuwwuush
!” 

Then he leapt out into the street and dashed across, arm
upraised and holding onto his imaginary rocket-powered grappling hook.

A van with only one headlight came speeding out of the night
as Cory ran across the street.  Its engine rattled loudly as it swerved, barley
missing Cory, then sped off down the street, turning right into the parking lot
of the distant pharmacy.  Cory landed on the far sidewalk with a small hop.  He
turned and walked down the hill, through the dark, toward the shopping center.

Now he saw the big freeway curving away to the south beyond
the fenced parking lot of the shopping center.  All the cars on the freeway
were stopped.  Some still had lights on.  Only a few.  All of them were frozen
and unmoving.  No horns.  No idling or revving engines for that matter.  Just a
long deep silence that made Cory feel uncomfortable as he watched all those
unmoving cars facing south.

Sometimes when Cory had gone to this shopping center with
his Daddy on a “hike”, as Daddy called it, he’d been fascinated by all the cars
speeding off toward the south along the freeway.  Cory would obsess at the
sight of them and he would need to stand and watch, mouth open, making the same
sounds they sometimes made as they changed lanes and sped ahead of some other
slower southbound driver.

“Vrroooom!”

“Nunuunuuuuu!”

“Rowwwwr!”

Now nothing moved down there along the freeway.  Hundreds of
frozen cars stretched off into the distance.  Headlights glared at stalled
cars.  Red taillights stared listlessly at more cars.  To Cory, they were like
the eyes of many dead demons or the bats that sometimes flew out of Batman’s
cave.  The long lines of unmoving cars wound their way south or, “thatway,” as
Cory liked to think of that particular direction.  The northbound lanes that
led off to the more populated areas of Orange County and on into the very dense
urban zones of Los Angeles were completely empty.

By the time Cory made the entrance to the DrugCo parking
lot, he could hear the sound of the rattling bus that had nearly run him down
trying to start.  Trying to, and failing.  As Cory walked forward into the
parking lot, he started to imitate the sound of the small coughing Volkswagen
bus parked in front of the pharmacy.

“Whhrrrr...whrrr... whrrr...” he said as he approached.

A large man leaped out of the driver’s seat holding a
massive lug wrench.  He squared off against Cory and raised it back over his
wide shoulders.

“Stay back, man!” he shouted.

Cory stopped moving forward.

“Whrrr... whrrr... whrrr,” he continued.

The man looked at Cory, noting the Batman costume.

“You’re not one of ‘em are you?”

Cory stopped making the sound of the Volkswagen bus starter
that wouldn’t start.

He stared at the immense man.  He was young, bristly beard,
shorts and flip flops.  A tank top and a button down Hawaiian shirt.

“I’m Batman,” whispered Cory.

The man shook his head, lowered the large wrench as he
completely forgot about Cory, and turned back to the van.

“It’s not working, Bob,” came a woman’s voice from within
the darkened vehicle.

“We just gave it to her.  Give it a few minutes, Tab.”

Cory looked inside the van.  A young woman, blond, tan,
tired eyes, held a small tow-headed girl on her lap.  The girl was breathing
heavily, gasping for air.  They were sitting on the back bench of the bus. 
Another little girl, blond and only slightly older than the little girl on the
blond woman’s lap, stroked the arm of her gasping younger sister.

Bob the big man had opened the rear engine compartment to
the old van and began to bang around inside, muttering to himself as he did so.

The girl continued to gasp.  Dark circles ringed her wide
brown eyes.  Eyes now watching Cory.

Cory began to mimic the sounds of the gasping girl. 
Softly.  Watching the little girl.  Breathing with the little girl, who slowly,
breath by breath, began to breathe normally again.

The tired blond woman smiled, murmuring.  Then she looked up
at Cory.  Then back down at her child.  “See honey.  It’s okay now. ”

“It’s okay now, Finn,” said the other little girl who
continued to stroke her little sister’s arm.  “It’s okay now.”

The tired looking woman looked up at Cory again.  “Are you
okay?” she asked.

“I’m Batman,” whispered Cory flatly.

“Bob?” she said.

“What?” came Bob’s muffled voice from deep inside the engine
compartment at the rear of the vehicle.

“I think... he’s special.”

There was a sudden bump and the entire vehicle shook.

“Owww!” groaned muffled-voiced Bob.

“Bob, is everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.” Pause.  “I banged my head.”

“Daddy banged his head,” giggled the older little girl to
her younger sister. 

“Shhhh,” whispered their mother.  “That’s not funny right
now, Ollie.”

The tow-headed one on her lap, blond curls, belly sticking
out from under a t-shirt, smiled up at her older sister.

“Bob, I think we need to take him with us,” said the tired
blond.

“Okay, whatever,” said Bob matter-of-factly.

“Do you want to come and get in here? Go with us someplace
safe?” she asked Cory.

Cory shook his large head slowly.  “No. Hafta go and come
right back with a bag for Mrs. Sheinman.”

The tired blond bit her lip for a moment.  Thinking.  Then,
“I think you’d better get in and come with us.  It’s not safe out there right
now.  Not tonight.”

The older little girl, Ollie, rainbow striped heavy knit
sweater and long curly blond hair shook her head at Cory, her punch-stained
lips silently repeating the words, “Not safe.”

“Because of Stranger Danger,” said Cory.

“Ummm?” The tired woman looked around, seeing things not
there, seeing recent episodes.  Seeing things one never forgets.  “Yeah...
that’s one way of putting it....” she paused, looking straight at Cory.  The
unconscious signal humans use to communicate when the other human being
communicated with should offer a name by which to identify themselves for the
remainder of the conversation.  Cory, of course missed the signal completely.

“Batman,” she said softly.

“I’m Batman,” confirmed Cory.

Then her eyes widened as she saw something off over Cory’s
left shoulder.  “Bob, they’re coming!” she shrieked.

Bob banged his head again.  Muttered something lost deep
within the engine compartment.  Then, once his head was out from within, he
groaned an, “Oh, man!”

Cory turned, following their gaze.  At the far end of the
parking lot, shambling up from the freeway, more strangers were coming, weaving
around a few abandoned cars as they stumbled forward.

Bob touched Cory’s shoulder and Cory recoiled. 

“Sorry,” Bob muttered breathlessly.  “What did you say your
name was?”

“I’m Batman,” said Cory flatly, composing himself with a
heavy breath.

“Okay...”  Bob ran to the back of the old surf bus, slammed
the engine compartment shut and locked it on a rusty click, then loped back to
Cory, his flip flops flip-flopping in loud slaps against the surface of the
parking lot.  Bob’s eyes were darting everywhere as the little girl whose name
was Ollie shrieked, “Daddy!  They’re coming!” Then, “Don’t look at them, Finn.”

“Girls, I want you to lay down on the floor,” urged the
tired blond.

“Hey!” it was Bob staring straight into Cory’s eyes behind
the mask.  “I need your help right now, ok?”

The strangers were stumbling across the parking lot.  Cory
watched them and felt that Scarecrow fear wanting to get him again.  Just like
the Scarecrow had tried to get Batman.

“Hey!” said Bob again.

I’m Batman, thought Cory, pushing the fear off and away from
himself.

“I need you to help me push this van right now.  Can you
help me?”

“Bob, maybe we should just all go back inside the store. 
The manager said we’d be safe there.”

“We’ve got to make it down to the boat.  It’s our only hope,
Tabby.”  Then Bob, the father of the two beautiful little blond girls and the
husband to a wife he loved, surrounded by the end of the world and the living
dead, looked at Cory in a way no one had ever looked at Cory.  A look that
said, “I need to count on you right now, man!”

No one had ever counted on Cory.

It just wasn’t done.

Y’know, because he was Cory.

Bob pleaded, “Batman, can you help me push... like this?” 
He leaned against the back of the small van. 

Cory nodded.  They both pushed. 

Nothing happened.

“Stop,” said Bob breathlessly.  “Tab, go up and put the van
in neutral.”  A moment later, they began to push again. 

“Daddy, can we look now?” shouted Ollie.

“NO!” grunted Bob as the van began to roll forward, slowly.

“Daddy!  Finn’s looking!” shouted Ollie from the floor.

“Bob, they’re getting closer!” shrieked the woman.

“Push... Batman!” grunted Bob.

The van was slowly picking up speed, rolling across the
front of the pharmacy.  The fence and the freeway loomed ahead.

Bob knew he’d only get one chance to push-start the old
van.  There would be no second chance this time.  In that moment, he was afraid
as only a father of two beautiful young girls and the husband of a soulmate can
be.  The fear of no second chances.  In that last “nothing else left” moment,
he felt more exposed and in more trouble than he’d ever been in all his wild
life.

Soundlessly, effortlessly, Cory pushed with all his strength
alongside Bob.  The van was beginning to get away from them.

“Keep pushing, Batman!  Don’t stop!” yelled Bob and lunged
away, flip flops pounding across the parking lot as he raced up to the driver’s
seat and leapt in.

“I’ll get it started and come back to get him,” he told
everyone inside the van.

The van picked up speed even though Bob’s immense weight had
been added to it.  In fact, it had literally rocked downward on the driver’s
side when Bob had jumped in.  But Cory was still pushing with all his strength.

Just like he’d seen Batman do.  Jaw set.  Muscles
straining.  Determined no matter what.

“I am the night...” gasped Cory from underneath his hot and
sweaty mask.

And the van rolled out of his grasp and Cory stumbled but
didn’t fall and then watched the van pull away from him.

Whrrr... whrrrr... whrrrr,
went the starter.

“Whrrr... whrrr... whrrrr,” gasped Cory.

Then,
Whrrrr whrrr.... Raa Raaa Raa Ruuuuuuuunnnnnn.

The red taillights of the tiny van suddenly swerved as the
lone headlight played across the mesh fence at that end of the parking lot,
revealing swarming zombies crawling through the ice plants along its length.

Bob swerved toward another mass of zombies tumbling after
the van in the middle of the parking lot and the van died...

... or almost seemed to die as Bob put in the clutch, gunned
the engine and then let it leap forward.

The zombies chased after the van and a few began to lurch
toward Cory who stood watching the van race for the far edge of the parking
lot.  Now there were too many zombies between Cory and the van.  A moment
later, the van reached the exit and disappeared onto the dark road, heading
south, heading “thatway”, heading for the marina and the beach.

In the silence that followed, Cory remembered the reason he
had come all this way, remembering Mrs. Sheinman and the bag he was to pick
up.  Cory turned and ran into the pharmacy.

A woman pushed past Cory without
even taking a moment to regard his Batman costume.  Her eyes were wild and
rolling.  She was covered in a thick sheen of greasy sweat.  Her hand was
bandaged.

“I’m sorry Sir, we’re closed now!” yelled a heavyweight
manager type racing forward, wildly waving at Cory.  He had a red bloody
scratch across his cheek.  A large dangle of keys shook from one of his beefy
swollen hands.

“I need to pick up a bag for Mrs. Sheinman.”  Cory halted
the recitation of his mission orders as though interrogated and awaiting
further questioning.  As though the large, beefy man might ask Cory to next
produce papers before proceeding across some imaginary checkpoint.  But the
manager only raced past Cory, muttering curses as he reached the main automatic
sliding doors to the store.

“Awww hell...” he groaned, fumbling with his keys as he
inserted one into a small hole near the main entrance and watched the undead
mob careen across the parking lot for the store.  A moment later, a steel
security door began to lower itself from a thin slot in the ceiling.  Outside,
the undead shambled across the parking lot, stumbling into the bright light
cast from the front of the store, slamming into the windows at the entrance as
the security door slowly continued to close behind the already shattering
glass.

Zombies crawled across the jagged wounds in the glass doors,
slithering, down into the foyer in front of the security gate in dripping pools
of blood.

Cory stood still, waiting for the interrogation to continue.

The fat manager ran by him again, racing off to the back of
the store.  “I’m sealing the whole store, Dan!” he shouted out over the clean
well-stocked aisles.

The sounds of glass breaking from behind the security
shutters grew muffled and distant as the descending door reached the floor of
the store.  Then a sudden rain of haphazard thuds sounded out like summer
thunder as a chorus of fists began to slam into the rolling metal door.

“I need to pick up a package for Mrs. Sheinman,” stated Cory
above the chaos.  Alone and still standing near the front entrance.

No one answered back.

Cory began to shift from one foot to the next.  Almost a
little dance.  Cory’s dad knew the dance meant Cory was nervous.  Uncertain. 
Worried about what was to come next. 

A moment later, a girl in a maroon shirt, feathered hair
with a pink streak falling off to one side, appeared from the aisles.  She was
holding a price gun.

“I think we’re closed, sir,” she said, snapping some
bubblegum as she took in Cory’s costume.  Then she noticed the security door,
rolled down and in place.  She took the earbuds out of her ear and now she could
hear the violent impacts against the security door.  Each one a tiny eruption
of summer thunder.

“What the...” but the sentence died between her braces.  She
walked forward, standing next to Cory.  “What’s going on out there?”

Cory shifted.

“I need to get a bag from... Dr. Liu,” he stammered,
remembering more details as if that might help him continue on with his
mission.  Or get someone to help him continue on with his mission.  “... for
Mrs. Sheinman.  She’s sick.”  Cory bounced back and forth.  Dancing.  Still
worried.

“What’s going on out there?” said the girl.  A teenager. 
She was looking up at Cory now and there was terror in her eyes.  Eyes that
reminded Cory of a cat he liked to play with sometimes.  The cat was gray and
it never said anything.

“I need to...”

“Yeah, I get it.  Are you stupid or something?  What the
hell is going on out there?!” she shouted at him.

At that moment the pharmacist, Dr. Liu, came running up the
aisle.  He was slight.  He was middle aged with tan skin and sun spots.

“Heather, where’s Tony?” he said in a deep baritone voice.

“I have no idea!  Do you hear... do you hear that out
there?”

A brief look of exasperation crossed Doctor Liu’s face. 
Cory had seen that same look on many people’s faces.  He didn’t know exactly what
it meant but he knew he didn’t like it.  He’d found, in his nineteen years,
that it was best just to ignore the look and keep doing what you were doing and
in time they would stop the look they made with their faces, all pinched and
hard, and let Cory do what Cory needed to do.

“There’s a viral outbreak of some sort, Heather,” said Dr.
Liu.  “I’ve been getting emails from the Center for Disease Control, but I
didn’t see them until just a few minutes ago.  This flu everyone’s been
complaining about seems a little more serious than first reported.”

Something loud smacked into the roll down door, dimpling it
inward.

Heather turned back to Dr. Liu and said, “Uh yeah, that
ain’t no flu.”

A sudden
buzz
and then a
pop
followed by an
electronic squeal and the store speaker system came to life.

“Danny.  Heather!”  It was the voice of the unseen manager,
Tony.  “Do not open the front doors or any of the other doors to the store. 
Corporate just called and told me there’re riots going on everywhere.  We’re to
lockdown the store and sit tight.”

“It’s a riot?” asked Heather.

“Apparently,” replied Dr. Liu.  “Or that’s what corporate
would like us to think at this very moment.”

“I need to pick up... a bag...” mumbled Cory, feeling
overwhelmed.  Feeling very... not Batman.  “I need to go right home to Mrs.
Sheinman.”  Cory shifted from oversized shoe to oversized shoe.  He squeezed
his eyes shut behind his Batman mask.  He didn’t like the loud sounds being
made against the metal door. 

No, he didn’t like them at all.

An hour later, the noise coming from the front of the store
was getting worse as more and more impacts resounded off the steel-shuttered
door.

Dr. Liu, Heather, and Cory stood near the pharmacy counter
at the back of the store.  Cory continued to rock back and forth.  At least now
he was holding the bag of medicine for Mrs. Sheinman, but the nice Asian man
had told him he couldn’t leave.  Not just yet.

“Where’s Tony?” asked Heather who’d been texting non-stop. 
She’d only managed to get a hold of one other person.  Her friend Tracy.  Two
texts.  The first stated that Tracy was trapped in her car.  The second was
unreadable.

“I’ve got to go home,” Heather whispered to herself.  She
already had her jacket and backpack on.

Doctor Liu had been studying his smartphone, reading all the
emails from the CDC.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea right now, Heather.”

“You’re not the boss of me, I’m...” she shouted abruptly and
waved her smartphone at him.  “I’m outta here right now!”

She raced off down the aisle heading for the back door and
the loading dock.  Doctor Liu vaulted the counter and dashed after her, easily
overtaking her by the time she reached cosmetics where he tackled her and she
screamed.

Cory winced.

Doctor Liu hauled her to her feet as she continued to scream
and then began shouting, “Rape!”

“Heather!” he shouted back into her face.

“Rape!” she screamed, repeating the word, this time adding,
“You rapist, pervert creep!”

Dr. Liu slapped her.

She stopped, staring at him in disbelief.

Then, “I’m gonna sue!  My parents are going to sue you for
everything you own!”

She began to hyperventilate as her tirade spun further and
further out of control and then her legs folded and she fell on the ground
crying and gasping for air.  Dr. Liu let go of her.

“It’s not a flu, Heather,” said Dr. Daniel Liu as he bent
down near her face.  “It’s some sort of... insanity.  It’s gone viral, or at
least that’s what it appears to be to the CDC as of three hours ago, but...
“Dr. Liu wiped the sudden sweat from his forehead.  “There are reports of dead
people getting up and walking around out there.  Biting people, Heather. 
Infecting them.”

She stops.

She sobs once.

“If you get bit, you turn into one of those freaks out
there, within the hour,” finished Dr. Liu.

She looked up at him.  Her eyes are filled with tears.  Her
mouth agape.  Braces shining from the inside of her tiny bitter mouth.

“I think,” said Dr. Liu, trying to slow his breathing.  “It
would be best if we all just waited for the authorities to establish some kind
of control.”

They stared at one another.

Heather mumbled, “That lady bit Tony before she left the
store.”

They both turned to look at the manager’s office up near the
ceiling on the back of the far wall.  The windows up there were dark.

“An hour ago,” whispered Heather.

“C’mon” said Dr. Liu immediately.  “Get up now!  We’ll lock
ourselves in the pharmacy.”

“I have to go home to Mrs. Sheinman,” said Cory.

“I’m sorry, Batman.” Dr. Liu had already determined who Cory
thought he was.  “But we need to lock ourselves inside my office for safety.” 
He paused.  “The Joker’s coming to get us and we’ll be safe there, okay
Batman?”

Cory thought about this.

“Stranger Danger,” said Cory.

Dr. Liu scratched his head.  “What strangers?”

“The ones outside.”

Dr. Liu thinks for a moment longer as Heather rises from the
floor.  She seems much older than her fifteen years.

Then, “They work for the Joker.”

“Okay,” said Cory and followed Dr. Liu and Heather into the
back of the pharmacy.  A moment later, a steel mesh gate begins to lower from
the ceiling, cutting off access to the pharmacy.

Later that night, Heather’s cell phone died. She’d forgotten
to bring a charger to work with her.  Dr. Liu gave her a sleeping pill and she
curled into a ball and passed out on the floor of the pharmacy.  An hour later
the manager, Tony, came shuffling up the aisle.  Passing the pharmacy.  Dr.
Liu, hidden, watched him from behind the stock shelving inside the pharmacy.

Tony was gray.  His eyes glassy.  His pants stained.  His
lips crusted with vomit.  He wandered toward the front of the store and Dr. Liu
hoped Tony didn’t retain enough of his former self to actually open the front
door to the store.  Dr. Liu had read all the CDC briefs.  Dr. Liu knew more
than most about what was really going on.  He knew Tony was dead.  He knew all
those people banging on the door out there were dead also.  Technically.  He
knows the emails from the CDC stopped coming two hours ago.

They’re probably dead too.

The last one had said they were switching to an emergency
command bunker and would be unavailable for the next twenty-four hours.

The missing “if ever” was obvious.

Right there, Dr. Daniel Liu made a plan.  He would hold the
store for thirty days.  By then, the authorities would have a better handle on
the situation and he would know what to do.  Most Pandemic scenarios
hypothesized a thirty day window in which the local population would need to
care for itself.  A pharmacy was the perfect place to wait out the downfall of
society. 

It was secure. 

No windows. 

State of the art consumer security due to access to drugs
and medicines. 

There was food and water. 

Hundreds of bottles of water and juices. 

Dried snacks. 

Medicine. 

There was even a chemical shower in the janitor’s closet. 
They could ride out thirty days here no sweat, thought Dr. Liu.

Cory spun back and forth in the doctor’s office chair.  Then
he put his head down on the desk and seemed to sleep.

Dr. Liu looked at his two fellow survivors.  His companions
for the next thirty days

They would depend on him.  He couldn’t count on them.  He
couldn’t decide which of them was the bigger liability.  He knew Heather, in
time, would try to leave, jeopardizing the building’s security.  His security.

A thought crossed his mind. 

He was amazed in that moment at ever having had it.  It was
sudden and then gone, but the memory of having such a terrible thought was like
a painful wound and he was stunned by it.  Amazed really.  Amazed that life had
reached a point so quickly in which he would have ever even had such a thought.

He could kill Heather with a small combination of
medications.

He was ashamed of himself.  He closed his eyes, trying to
think of peaceful times and family.  He thought of his grandmother’s garden in
Hawaii.  It was his favorite place.  The gardenias and their aroma.  The warm
breeze.  The heavy salt air coming in from the sea.  The sound of bells.  His
grandmother shelling peas.

He fell asleep...

... and woke to dead Tony looking at them, his mouth open
and closing with a snap as he bumped into the mesh gate.  The dead manager
screamed silently, his voice now just a rusty guttering whisper emitting from
pale flesh.

It was four o’clock in the morning.  Just after.  Heather
and Batman were still asleep.

Dr. Liu watched the undead fat man rattle the mesh gate
weakly.

We can’t have the store to ourselves until we clear him out,
he thought.

“Destroy the brain of the infected subject to terminate
post-mortem function.”
  That’s what one of the final CDC bulletins had
instructed anyone still on the advisory net to do.  Dr. Liu rose and went to a
drawer near the register.  He selected a key from his ring and inserted it into
the lock on the face of a drawer.

DrugCo Company policy strictly forbade the use of firearms,
or for employees to carry them while at work, or keep them on the premises. 
But after reading one particularly horrific account of a violent pharmacy
takeover entitled
“Drugstore Cowboys Gone Psycho”
in a trade journal,
Dr. Liu had purchased a gun. 

He still meant to take a firearms safety class.

He just hadn’t gotten around to it.