The Plague Unto The End (2 page)

The sword was made out of a pair of four-foot aluminum pipes.  I had slid the smaller of the two pipes inside of the other and hammered it flat on one edge.  I left the other edge slightly fatter to help stabilize the blade.  I didn’t sharpen it because I had tried to make one once before and sharpening the edge just split the edge open.  The handle was wrapped in duct tape and it had a threaded-pipe fitting on the butt.  I cut the tip at an angle to give it the look of a ninja sword.  I had always had a fascination with swords when I was younger and this pipe sword became a project that my dad and I worked on when I was about fourteen.  I had held onto it because it had some sentimental value and I just liked the idea of having a sword under my bed.

I put on my jeans and left on the black t-shirt I was wearing under my uniform shirt.  I limped down the hall to tell Thomas off when I saw that mom, dad and Thomas were all watching a special news report.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Something happened not too far from your store,” said Dad.

“Huh, what?”

“Looks like some guy attacked a lady and the police showed up to handle it, but the guy went after the police and they shot him,” said Dad.

“Did they say what his name was?” I asked as I thought about what the officer had told me about earlier.

“No, they said they are going to try to contact his family first before they release his name.”

“We had some guy acting weird out by our store tonight.  Randy called the cops and the officer said some crazy homeless guy was wondering around out there.  I wonder if it’s the same guy?” 

“Might be,” said Dad as he turned his attention back to the computer.

“Hey, did you see what I got you?  I put it on top of your dresser,” said Mom.

“Huh?  No, I didn’t see it.  What is it?” I asked.

“I got you a new sweatshirt.  It was on sale.”

“Oh, okay cool.  Thanks Mom,” I said.

I walked into the kitchen, made myself a plate of casserole and went back to my room to eat it and start studying.  As I passed through the front room on the way to my room I noticed the Playstation was on but the TV was off.  I walked over and turned on the television.  The game I had bought a few days prior was running.  I hadn’t had a chance to play it yet and it appeared that Thomas had taken it upon himself to try it out for me.  I figured I’d teach him a lesson.  He had paused the game and I was pretty sure he hadn’t saved his game yet. 

“Thomas!  I think you accidentally left the Playstation on!  I’ll turn it off for you!” I yelled to him as I shut it off.

“What!  No, I was in the middle of something!” said Thomas as he ran into the front room.

“Yeah, and what would that be?” I asked.

“I had...a game paused on there,” said Thomas.

“Oh, I’m sorry.  What game was it?” I asked.

Thomas just stared at me for a few seconds.  “Well you weren’t playing it and you said I couldn’t play it until you played through it once,” said Thomas as he tried to explain himself.

“Well, I’ve been busy at work and with school I haven’t had time to play it yet.  Just wait.  You’ll get a chance to play it,” I said as I walked back to my room.

I kicked off my shoes, took off my work shirt and changed into a clean pair of jeans.  I pulled out my textbook and my notebook from my backpack and started to eat the casserole.  I tried to make a mental note to remind myself to turn on my alarm before I went to sleep.  Late study sessions could end up badly if I didn’t wake up.  I went through the study guide until I couldn’t stand the thought of reading it anymore.  I almost fell asleep with my book on my lap, leaning up against the wall next to my bed, but I was able to catch myself before it happened.  I put my books back into my bag and stumbled back over to my bed.  I didn’t look at the clock before I went to bed and had no idea what time it was.  It didn’t take but a couple of seconds for me to drift off.

Dream #1...

I pull a door shut behind myself.  I am standing and staring at a dingy off-white painted wall.  I look to my right and see a hall that stretches about fifteen feet.  At the end of the hall there is a beat-up metal door.  The door looks damaged around the handle and the deadbolt.  It is not shut all the way and I can see that there is darkness outside of the door.

There is a lamp with a metal shade hanging from the ceiling halfway down the hall.  The lampshade directs the light into a diffused circle on the worn concrete floor.

I look to my left and see the hallway extends in that direction about five feet.  There is a small workbench at that end of the hall.  The bench has a table lamp with an articulating arm and the lamp is lighting a smaller black object on the table.

I look down at my clothes and see that I am wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt and jeans.  I also feel something heavy on my back and realize that I am wearing my dark-red backpack.  The sleeves of my sweatshirt are rolled up and dirty.  I have a bandage wrapped around my left arm.  I clench my fist and the injury burns.  My right leg has a dark red stain around my thigh.  My right leg feels tight and sore.

I start to walk toward the table, but look behind myself as I begin to walk.  I see that I was standing in front of a flimsy wooden door with a small window in the upper half of the door.  I turn back to look at the bench and realize that the black object is a handgun.  I pause for a moment because I recognize the weapon.  It is my dad’s .40 caliber, Glock 23.

There is a box of ammunition and a magazine on the bench next to the Glock.  I feel the urge to start loading the magazine.  I start taking bullets from the ammo box and begin to shove them into the magazine as fast as I can.  After I force the fourth bullet into the magazine, I hear a noise from behind me.  I freeze.

I stand still and listen.  I hear the wind outside pick up slightly and the door at the end of the hall squeaks as the wind pushes it, but I hear something else, a shuffling noise.  I slowly turn and look at the door.  I can see a light coming from above the door outside.

A hand appears from outside the door and pushes the door open.  I remain still and motionless watching the entryway.  The head of the person at the door comes into view, but the light from the overhead lamp does not reach his face.  I can tell it is a man, but something is wrong with him.  He is off-balance and awkward.  He is wearing a wrinkled, heavily stained gray suit.  I can see the knees of his pants have been worn and he is missing his right shoe.  He struggles to squeeze between the door and the doorframe.

After a brief struggle, he manages to force his way into the hall with me.  Still, I do not move.  I am waiting to see his face, but the glare from the overhead lamp is making it difficult to see.  I can see some kind of dark stain on his chest under his neck.  I tilt my head slightly to cut out the glare.  Just as I move, I see the head of the man move as he notices my presence.  He starts to move toward me. 

The light from the overhead lamp washes over his face.  His right eye has a gaping gash just under his eye socket and his lower jaw appears to have been completely ripped off.  The man begins to take each step a little faster than the last.

I turn back to the table and pick up the Glock.  I slide the magazine into the well and rack the slide.  I feel frantic as I turn to face the man again.  He is only a few feet from me as I raise the gun and begin to shoot.  The first shot flies wide and strikes the wall.  I quickly fire again, and this time the bullet strikes the man in the right shoulder.  His shoulder jerks as the bullet connects, but he shows no signs of pain.  I fire a third shot, which sends the bullet through his open mouth and out the back of his neck.  The shot appears to have severed his spinal cord.

The man’s momentum hurls his body into me and we tumble to the floor.  I quickly push him off of me and see his vacant, gray eyes still watching me.  I stand up and his eyes follow me as I move.  My ears are ringing as I point the gun at his head and begin to pull the trigger.  Through the ringing I can hear something coming from outside the door.  I turn to look through the gap between the door and the frame.

There is movement in the shadows.  The light from the floodlight over the door reveals the first of an endless number of people like the one that had just attacked me.  I raise the gun and remember that I had only put four bullets into the magazine.  I glance over at the box of ammunition and know that I do not have time to fill the magazine.  I can see the crowd surging toward the open door.  I stare into the crowd and know that I am going to die.  Just as the first of them breaks the plane of the doorway, I grit my teeth and pull the trigger.

CHAPTER 2 - The School...

I woke up suddenly, having only a vague recollection of what I had just dreamed.  I quickly sat up in bed and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.  I slid my feet off of the side of my old, squeaky bunk bed and stared at the floor for a few moments.  A small amount of diffused light entered the room from the window beside my bed.  The cool fall days had become dim.  With one look at the dark clouds outside I knew it was going to rain soon.

I had fallen to sleep wearing my faded black undershirt and blue jeans.  My black skateboarder shoes were on the floor at the foot of my bed, where I had taken them off the night before.  I looked up at my dresser and remembered that mom said she got me a sweatshirt.  There it was, on top of my dresser, a gray, hooded sweatshirt.  I tried it on, and felt the early morning chills melt away.  It fit well, although I really was not too fond of the light gray color.  Most of the clothes in my wardrobe were darker colors, but it was nice to have a new sweatshirt.  When I looked down to see how it fit, I felt like I had worn the sweatshirt before, but I knew it was brand new; it still had the tags on it.

Feeling comfortable and ready to get on with my day, I glanced over at my alarm clock to see how much time I had before I had to leave for my English class at Thomas Nelson Community College (TNCC).  It was a Monday and my class started at ten o’clock.  In bright orange digital numbers my alarm clock read 9:41.  The thoughts of everything I had to do before I left for school rushed through my head all at once.

I slipped on my shoes, swiped my keys off of my dresser, and threw my dark-red book bag over my shoulder.  I didn’t have time to have an actual breakfast.  I decided that a toaster tart would have to do until I could get something else after school.  I quickly walked down the hall to the kitchen and pulled out a box of the breakfast snacks.  There was only one pack left in the box and someone had already taken one of the two tarts.  I threw the empty box back into the trash along with the wrapper and began to walk to the front door.

Just as I reached for the doorknob I heard the familiar sounds of a game on the computer in the den.  My younger brother Thomas, he is tall for a thirteen year-old, but he does not stand up straight.  He usually has greasy, brown hair and does not keep it combed or styled.  Thomas had said something I couldn’t make out.  I slowly turned to face him.  I could see him through the window from the kitchen to the den.  He was sitting at the computer.  He was homeschooled and was supposed to be doing his work after he got up.  I walked away from the front door, further down the hall, and looked at him.  He gave me the usual pouting face because he knew what he was supposed to be doing.

“Get off of the computer and get going on your stuff, Thomas!” I said gruffly, “Just because mom and dad are at work, that doesn’t mean you can goof off all day.”

He looked away from me, started to walk toward his books, and said, “I’m going.  I have all day to get it done.  I don’t know why I can’t play something for a few minutes in the morning before I start.  I mean, it kinda knocks off the edge in the morning.”  Thomas had his little smirk on his face, like what he was saying made perfect sense.

“But it never is just a few minutes in the morning.  You’ll sit there and play all day until someone gets home, then you act like you’ve been doing your work all along, or you just say it’s all done, when you haven’t done anything.  You can play the computer for as long as you want after you get all of your stuff finished.  Now get to it, Buck’o!”

“Anyway, I’ve got to go to school now.  I’ve got that English class with all that poetry crap this morning,” I said with a roll of my eyes, as I turned back to face the front door and began to walk.

“Okay, bye, Ty.” Thomas said from the table in the den.

He’s going to get right back on the computer after I leave
, I thought to myself as I walked out the front door.  I quickly flung open the green storm door, jumped off the front porch, and ran toward my truck. It was sitting on the grass in front of the house where I usually parked it.  I put my breakfast in my mouth as I pulled my keys out of my pocket and unlocked the driver’s side door.  I pulled the door open and the edge of it knocked the tart out of my mouth.  I made a fruitless effort to catch it but it hit the ground anyway, and that’s exactly where it would stay.  The five-second rule doesn’t apply to wet, muddy grass.

I grumbled as I sat down to start the engine,
Now I’m going to be hungry all through class.

I raced down our street faster than I ever had before and hoped that there weren’t any cops running radar on the way to school.  As I brought the truck onto Mercury Boulevard, I shoved the only CD I owned into the stereo, and waited for it to read past the heavy scratches.  Thoughts of the papers due by the end of the week flashed in my mind.  I wished the school had been shut down for the day so I could have a day to catch up.  School had never been my thing.  I always preferred the hands-on approach with most subjects, but some teachers don’t know how to do that.  Just as I finished thinking of my upcoming tasks, the unmistakable beginning of the Deftones CD put me in the mood to drive.

Traffic was thin for a Monday, but I
was
leaving a little later than I usually did.  As far as I knew it was not a federal holiday.  I could see some thick smoke up ahead on the side of the road.  I slowed and looked as I passed where the smoke was coming from.  At the far end of one of the cross streets of Mercury Boulevard, a house was on fire.  I didn’t see anyone outside.  Just as I wondered where the fire department was, I heard the sirens of a fire engine in the distance.  I felt relieved just as the next row of houses cut off my view of the burning residence.

I turned onto North Armistead Avenue and didn’t run into the usual backup in that area.  To my surprise, I was making great time.  I had a chance to make it to school on time.  Just before I could make it through, the light at Hampton Roads Center Parkway turned red.  There was a car in front of me, and another two behind me in the turn lane.  I sat and waited. 

While I waited I noticed a ratty looking cat starting to cross the road near the stop bar. 

I bet that cat will make it to school before I do
, I thought.

As I stared at the cat I heard a scraping noise from behind my truck. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw a car flying up the street.  Part of the vehicle’s rear bumper was broken and scraping the ground.  The car made no effort to slow as it came to the light and—
thump
—it smacked right into the cat crossing the street.  There was only a chunk or two and a smear left of the animal.  I could see all of the other drivers looking around in shock, but we all continued through the light as soon as it turned green anyway.

“Man, there’s never a cop around to see idiots like that,” I said to myself as I drove down Hampton Roads Center Parkway.  I felt bad, but I still chuckled to myself,
I guess I was wrong.  I will make it to school before that cat
.

I got off on the Magruder Boulevard exit and pulled up to the light at Butler Farm Road.  The lights were all flashing.  The lights to go straight on Magruder were flashing yellow and the ones for the Butler Farm traffic were flashing red.  The cars in front of me didn’t slow down much at all and kept going on Magruder.  I turned left onto Butler Farm and continued toward the TNCC campus. 

I was used to seeing people walking their dogs or jogging on the way to the campus, but that morning there was no one.  Usually the parking lot was packed and I had to park at the far end of the lot, but I was able to park right next to Hastings Hall.  I saw a few other students, but it was nothing like the numbers I would normally see.  Some of them seemed to be heading to class as usual, but most of them looked as confused as I was.

I was starting to wonder if there was a change of schedule I had missed, but there were too many students on campus to have just missed an announcement that the campus was closed.  I stepped out of the truck and grabbed my bag from the passenger’s seat.  I began to walk to class, but my attention was drawn to a group I could see over by the cafeteria.  They appeared to be trying to get inside the cafeteria, but the doors were locked.  Several of them started to pound their fists against the doors.  I started to look around for campus police responding to the gathering.  When I didn’t hear sirens or see any police cars I ran to Hastings Hall to see if I could find a teacher to tell.

I opened the door only to hear something I had never heard inside of Hastings Hall before.  Silence.  The dull roar of the students rushing to class was nonexistent.  I paused for a moment, but made my way to the stairwell and walked quickly to my classroom.

When I made it there, I found only one person inside the room.  She sat in the rear of the room and just stared out the window.  She didn’t seem to have noticed my entrance.

“What’s going on?” I asked, snapping the girl out of her daze.

“Wh-who are you,” she said.

“I’m in this class.  Who are you?” I replied.

“I’m Gwen.  I think I’m in the class before yours, but I’m the only one who came today.  The teacher didn’t even come.  I guess we get the day off,” she said with half a smile.

“I guess so,” I responded, not knowing what else to say.

I walked over to the window to see if the campus police ever made it out to the cafeteria.  The glass on the doors to the cafeteria were shattered and the group was nowhere in sight.  They most likely knew something that I didn’t know and I needed to know what was going on.

“Have you heard anything about why no one is on campus today?” I asked Gwen.

“There might have been something on the news about it, but I never watch the news.  I only listen to music when I’m in the car, so I wouldn’t have heard anything on the way to school either,” she said.

“Yeah, me too.  You wanna see if we can find someone who knows what’s going on?” I asked.

“I’ve got another class in a couple hours,” Gwen responded.

“Well, I don’t think it’ll take that long to find out what’s going on and besides that, you might not have another class today,” I said.

Gwen picked up her bag and put her books back inside.  I waited by the door until she had all of her stuff.  We both walked back down the hall toward the stairwell, but halfway down the hall, she stopped and stood still.

“Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?” I asked.

“It sounded like a gunshot,” Gwen said.

I stopped and listened.  This time I heard the noise and it did sound like a gunshot followed by several more gunshots.  Gwen and I both looked at each other and ran back to the classroom.  We looked out the window and a campus police car was parked on the grass in the courtyard.  The lights on top of the car were on but there was no siren.

As we stared out the window we heard the noise again. 
Pop, pop, pop
.  The noise was muffled, but it sounded like it was coming from the cafeteria.  We waited to hear the noise again, but the noise had stopped.

“We should call 911,” said Gwen as she pulled out her cellphone.

She dialed and waited.  We waited for what felt like ten minutes for someone to answer.  She was about to hang up when we finally got an answer.  While we waited for an answer, Gwen put her phone on speakerphone.

“Hampton 9-1-1, what’s your emergency?” said the call taker.

“We’re on the Thomas Nelson campus off of Magruder and the campus police are shooting at someone.  We can’t see them but their car is parked on the grass outside of the cafeteria and we keep hearing gunshots,” said Gwen.

“Okay, I’ll get some units to head that way.  I need you to stay on the phone with me.  Are you hurt?” said the call taker.

“No, we’re not hurt, but there might be someone hurt in the cafeteria,” said Gwen.

“Okay, I need you to stay away from the cafeteria.  If you can, lock the doors where you are and stay away from the windows.”

“Okay,” said Gwen as I ran to the door to lock it.

“There have been a lot of calls this morning and I may have to put you on hold for a few moments to handle another call, but don’t hang up, okay?” said the call taker.