Byron : A Zombie Tale (Part 1) (3 page)

It had occurred to me that if I was going to leave the morgue and got out in public then, I would need something a little more appropriate to cover myself with than just a lab coat. The dim corridor into which I had just stepped had several doors to either side as well as a door at the far end. I hoped that one of these doors would lead to someplace that may have some clothing.

The first door to my left was locked, as was the one directly it’s opposite. However, the next door down on the right was both unlocked and slightly askew. With slight trepidation I pushed it the rest of the way open and stepped inside.

I found the light switch easily and flipped on the overhead lights. It looked like some kind of large stock room. There were vast rows of metal shelves arranged in an orderly fashion throughout the entire space. The shelving was so plentiful that it conjured in my mind images from old police movies of evidence storage rooms. In fact, a receiving window at the far end of the room suggested that this was the room’s very purpose. That would mean that I was in a Police Station!

But, if that were so, then where were all of the police officers? Another thought had occurred to me also. If this was the evidence room, then there may be something here which I could purloin as appropriate cover.

I began searching through the boxes resting upon the shelves and was happy to have uncovered several articles of suitable clothing. It was a nice feeling to finally have something to adequately cover my unmentionables!

During my search of the boxes, I also found some other useful items. But, considering that I was already stealing from a police evidence impoundment, I decided to leave these items right where they were. I stepped back into the hallway and decided to further explore the remaining rooms along the hallway.

The other doors down the hallway, except for one, were all locked tight. This last doorway led to a postage stamp of an office that was overly stuffed with a desk, filing cabinet and a chair. Atop the desk was a desktop computer that had not been shut down properly. I moved the mouse and was happy to find that the computer’s user had not logged out either. Looking at the desk, I could see that there were several photographs sitting there depicting two little girls playing with a rather burly, balding man. A diploma hanging on the wall indicated that the man whose desk this was, likely the same man in the pictures, had graduated from a criminal justice program. Another diploma on the wall indicated that he had graduated from the police academy. This really was a police station.

So, where were the police? The station seemed as though it was empty. I looked at the computer’s clock and saw that it was 11:00 in the evening. Though, as the mouse pointer hovered over the indicator I had to admit that I gasped out loud. Whereas I’d thought that I had been asleep for only mere hours, it would appear based on the computer’s calendar that I had been asleep for nearly a week!

What the hell was going on?

And then it occurred to me. This had to be a continuation of the same ruse which my frat brothers had been perpetrating. There could be no other explanation.

A tab on the menu bar at the bottom of the computer screen indicated that there was an application still open. I clicked on the tab to restore the application to the computer screen. It was an online newspaper article. What I read there was beginning to make me worry a little about the validity of belief that this was a prank.

The article was dated three days prior to the date on the computer with a headline that read:
Police Stressed Over Attacks
. The article explained that there had been a number of attacks on innocent passersby throughout the region. The police had presumed that the attacks were being carried out either by patients who had escaped from the mental health facility two towns over, or by some drug addicts strung out on bath salts. The attacks were vicious and had resulted in the deaths of more than twenty people. Among these were a number of college students, including…

It was there that I had to stop. For, what I saw on the page simply took this joke all too far. I was going to make my frat brothers pay for this. This wasn’t even funny anymore. No. It had crossed over into the territory of sick and depraved. Among the names of the college students identified in that list were two freshman athletes, a girl from my Western Civilization class, and me!

How could I be a victim? Wasn’t I standing there? Wasn’t I reading this very news article. Oh, ha ha ha!
What a joke, guys
, I thought. I hoped that my soon to be former frat brothers were having a grand old time laughing it up at my expense. Because, I’d determined, as soon as I caught hold of them they were in some serious trouble!

I exited the room, not even bothering to close the door back over on the way out. I had to admit that I was pretty pissed off at the extent of this joke. I mean, yeah, we had done some frat pranks before. But, they were things like putting plastic wrap over the toilet bowl, or the old feather and shaving cream stunt, or even short-sheeting each others’ beds. Hell, we had even duct-taped Evan to a table one night after he had passed out drunk. But, all of that was in good fun. And, the extent of it was fairly short. Never had any of us carried a joke this far. The sheer cost of pulling this off must have been astronomical, especially to have the police, the medical examiner, and even some web-design students in on it.

The more I thought about it, the more pissed off I became! They were definitely going to pay for this!

The final door at the end of the hallway led into a large room filled with low-walled cubicles and empty desks. The overhead lights were on, but there wasn’t a soul to be found. The sudden feeling of isolation was simply disturbing. It felt as though I were the last person alive on earth.

Where the hell was everyone?

Walking between the desks, it seemed almost as though people had left in a hurry. There were telephones off the hook, papers strewn all over the desktops and on the floor. Computers were on and running waiting for their users who appeared to have not returned. It was as if there was some great emergency which needed everyone’s immediate attention. I had to admit that it was pretty creepy. This was also adding to the growing doubts about the possibility that this really was an elaborate hoax pulled off by my frat brothers. Admittedly, I was becoming nervous.

Suddenly, I heard something move in the foyer to the police station on the far side of the room. My nerves tensed. I didn’t know whether to run and hide, to dive to the floor behind a desk, or to investigate. I froze. My ears strained in anticipation of hearing the sound again. And, they were not disappointed.

There was definite movement. I decided to walk forward toward the foyer. My throat was still very dry and I croaked unintelligibly in an attempt to hail whatever or whoever was there. Honestly, it was exhilarating that there could actually be another living human here with me. With any luck and all my hope, it would be someone who could help me sort out just what in the hell was happening here.

I continued forward and tried to speak again. But, damn, I really needed something to drink! My throat was parched – as if filled with the sands of some sub-Saharan desert. I moved my tongue behind my teeth to try and form some saliva with which I could lubricate my vocal cords. But, it was to no avail.

Damn.

“Hello?” I called out again. At least, that is what I thought I called out. But to my own ears I could hear something quite different – something along the lines of “huunngggooo.”

A head poked out around the doorjamb. It belonged to a rather mousy young woman with brown hair and hazel eyes. In those eyes I could see something that further bolstered my doubts as to the validity of this hoax. I saw mortal terror. The head poked quickly back behind the doorjamb.

I took a few more steps toward the doorway. She looked somewhat familiar to me. I think she was actually in one of my chemistry classes. What was her name?

I called out to her again. My voice was becoming a little less strained. This time the ‘hello’ came out in a vaguely familiar fashion. I was overjoyed. It took a strong act of will to get my voice to answer my commands.

Her head poked out from behind the jamb again. I searched my mind for her name. I could see her a little more clearly. Yes! She was the girl from my chemistry class. What the hell was her name?

I raised my hand and waved at her while taking a few more steps forward. Pam… That was her name. I called out to her, annunciating each letter as it left my lips, “Paaammm!”

She looked back at me and cocked her head. I smiled back and waved again. But, as I watched, her head disappeared once again behind the doorway.

A few more steps brought me considerably closer to the doorway.

“Stay away!” The girl screamed from behind the doorway. It was her voice! It was Pam! But, apparently I must have done something to upset her because she screamed again, “I said stay back! You son of a bitch!”

I couldn’t help but continue ahead. If only she could see that it was me, someone she should recognize from class, then everything would be alright. I kept walking forward.

Something flashed from the edge of the doorway, however, that made me falter in my steps. At first, I didn’t recognize what it was. But when recognition finally did strike me, I froze instantly. I was staring down the business end of an automatic pistol!

“P.aa.mm,” I forced out, slowly and deliberately concentrating on each syllable. “I..t’s..mmm..eee… B..yr…on!” Unfortunately, I was not able to get many more words out of my hoarse throat. The pistol barked twice in rapid succession and I felt as if somebody had just lightly shoved me backwards. I raised my hand to her to signal her to stop firing. But, she obviously did not understand the message.

She fired two more shots and I felt myself pushed slightly backward. What the hell was her problem?

Another shot echoed through the room. I felt no pain; there was only slight pressure forcing me backwards. I looked down at my shirt expecting to find blood and gore on my torso, but was pleasantly pleased when none was found. Though, I’d just noticed that the shirt had several holes in it, which may or may not have already been there – I was not sure. As I searched myself for damage, I noted that the burning sensation I had earlier experienced was spreading through my chest and upper body.

I laughed at her, figuring that she had evidently missed her target. Either she couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn, or she was firing blanks or something.

Again the pistol barked and I was nudged slightly backward. Throwing my arms down in exasperation I looked at her and said, as clearly as I could, “stop!” But, she did not hear my plea as the pistol burped another bullet.

Maybe the gun was filled with duds, or that “less lethal” police ammunition. Was it a paintball gun she was firing? This didn’t seem right, though, because it would have to have been filled with colorless paintballs. If it’d been a real gun with real bullets I should’ve been a bloody mess… shouldn’t I? It made no sense. I should have been dead!

Emboldened by this revelation, I continued on my path toward the doorway. My throat was still very sore, and my vocal cords were still stiff, but I was learning how to work around that. “Pam,” I said as clearly as I could. “Please stop!”

The girl, who was now standing right in front of me, was trembling uncontrollably. She raised the pistol and pointed it point blank at my chest.

“Die, you damn monster!” She screamed as her finger tightened on the trigger. But, the gun never discharged. I had managed to slip the webbing between my thumb and index finger in between the hammer and the percussion cap. I had managed to prevent the gun from tearing in me a hole which would have proved either exceptionally painful, or worse – fatal!

As I stared into her eyes, seeing the mix of fear and loathing that was awash in her face all I could think was: What the hell was her problem?

I stood there face to face with Pam, a girl I recognized from my chemistry class. Her eyes were filled with tears and terror. It was an awful recipe to see mixed into such a beautiful visage. I couldn’t imagine what it was that vexed her, but obviously it bore with it a deep-seated fear of me.
But why?
I had thought to myself,
What had I done to her?
I couldn’t understand her reaction. But then, I remembered that this was a hoax – a farce perpetrated by my asinine frat brothers. I had discussed her with Evan on several occasions and could see that she must have been in on the whole thing.

The pistol she had been holding – the one that had clamped down on the flesh web between my thumb and forefinger – I cast aside like the toy it must be. After all, how else could I have not been affected by her shots? I marveled at how elaborate this prank was and had to admire my frat brothers for putting it all together.

“Ha ha ha, Pam!” I said slowly through my sluggish mouth and hoarse throat.
Damn!
I thought to myself,
I need a drink!
The unfortunate effect of this dryness in my throat was that my intended words were turned into slightly garbled mumbles semi-recognizable as parts of human speech. They sounded something more like “AA..AA..AA, Pmmm.”

I was really getting tired of my hindered speech.
Dammit!
I cursed in my head,
Why did my throat feel so hoarse, and why was my tongue like a dead slug lolling about?

If I couldn’t communicate with Pam through the medium of speech, then I would have to find another way. And so, I gestured to her. First I pointed to her, obviously indicating to her that I wanted to talk to her. Next, I tapped my mouth and tried to speak. However, the syllabic malaise that poured from my lips was completely unintelligible and sounded more like a sickened moan. I followed this by shaking my head very forcefully to signify that I could not speak. I then gestured to her with the most commonly accepted sign of peace and love – a hug, while smiling widely at her.

However, for some reason, the meaning of my impromptu pantomime appeared to be completely lost on her. Instead of seeing some kind of relaxing from her, I saw instead a growing intensity to the fear shone in her eyes. What had I done wrong?

I reached out to her again, with as wide and warm a smile as I could muster even stepping forward to usher her into my embrace. But, she instead shrank back. Another step forward and my ears were assailed by the most atrocious ear-splitting scream I had ever thought possible to be ejaculated from human vocal cords! I screamed back at her and stepped back.

In my head ran a million thoughts, the highlights of which included:
What was wrong? Why was she acting this way? Couldn’t she see that I meant her no harm? Couldn’t she see that I was a victim in some sick, depraved prank?
And finally, I became perturbed as this last fact – that I was the victim, here, she should have already known!

Aha!
And then it made perfect sense. She was playing into the prank. Her ignorance of my intentions and her fear were only an act!

And so, I pressed forward in spite of her screaming. I smiled as I approached - laughing to myself about the whole situation and starting to feel a little honored to be the target of such a well-designed scheme.

Two more steps forward, however, and something new assailed my senses. It wasn’t the sound of her screaming. It was something else, something that I hadn’t even though of until now – hunger!

To say that there was an ache in my stomach was an unbelievable understatement. My gut burned for sustenance; for some form of nourishment. And, setting it off was something that was nearby, some delectable aroma which graced the air in this section of the police station.

Perhaps, this is where everyone would be found who was in on the joke! Completely distracted by the smell of deliciousness I marched forward with more gusto. My attention was no longer focused on Pam. I needed to feed, and to whet my whistle. I was certain that a tall drink would also aide me in regaining my ability to speak!

As I approached to pass Pam and seek out the scrumptiousness which lay beyond her I was surprised as she threw herself directly into my path. She was intentionally blocking my way; standing between me and what my body desired so! I don’t quite understand what came over me, but I began to lose my temper. She was keeping me from food! And here I had not eaten in God knows how long.

I groaned at her and reached out to take hold of her shoulders. All I wanted to do was move her out of the way. She shrieked and kicked at me. Her foot rose swiftly upward, aiming for my manhood. I guessed that she must have missed and struck, instead, my inner thigh because it simply didn’t hurt.

Despite that her kick had little effect on me physically it did, however, have the result of causing me to stop in my tracks. I glared at her and, with a tremendous effect, managed to blurt out in exasperation, “whaaa sss raaa nngg wwwiiddd oooo?”

Pam appeared to be dumbfounded. I continued my verbal assault. “SSSStttaaa pp hhettnnggg mmmm eee!”

She blinked, apparently unsure of what to think. One single word, spoken from her lips made my heart leap with exhilaration. But, its delivery gave me cause for concern. For, her voice was fraught with terror, skepticism, and curiosity. That one word was the sweetest I had ever heard from her lips – not just because of what it was, but what it meant. That word was “Byron?”

She knew my name! How was it possible that this beautiful creature knew who I was? We only knew each other in a very vague sense, having only taken one class together. But yet, here she was saying my name.

And then it occurred to me. Of course she knew my name! How could I be so foolish to not expect that she would? Hadn’t she needed to talk to Evan for her involvement in the prank?

I smiled at her as warmly as I could and nodded. And, what she did next really startled me.

She started to cry! Why in god’s name was she crying? This made no sense to me. There was no need for these kinds of theatrics for my frat brothers’ prank. So, why in God’s name was she sobbing so?

“Byron!” She said, her words broken by sobs. “Not you too!” More sobs racked her frail frame. I looked into her eyes quizzically and felt almost like a dog trying to do long division as I tilted my head to one side.
What was she talking about?
I wondered. Then I concluded that this was the weirdest damn joke, ever.

I think it may have been my questioning expression that elicited from her a little extra information. She began to speak again. “They’re dead! They’re all dead, Byron!” Again, a flood of tears and sobs out pause to her explanation.

During her intermission, I focused hard on trying to ask, “oooo sssss ddeedd?” My voice croaked out of me, like a dry wind through loose fence boards.

“Everyone,” she replied. “Everyone, except for this officer over here.” She gestured toward a man lying on the ground behind her. I could see that he was hurt, badly. Blood was pouring from a wound in his chest. And, despite the my entire medical training had consisted of a single First Aid/CPR class in high school, I could see plainly that he was short for this world. But as I took in the sight of his broken body lying there I could feel the burning hunger again rising in me.

I saw him lying there. Weak. Defenseless. Tantalizing. Something about him smelled terrific! My gut burned with a desire for sustenance. And, for the first time since I had awoken, I could feel my mouth become wet with juices. I swallowed quickly and could feel the saliva wet my sore throat.

“Hungry,” I said out loud. Wait! I had said that out loud! And, in nearly perfect speech!

My eyes wandered back to the poor soul lying on the floor. That delicious aroma - which had before been the impetus for my attempt to pick Pam up and remove her from my path ; which I had imagined was the precursor to the inevitable orgy of food during the after-party for this devilishly elaborate prank; the aroma which I desired for essential sustenance - was coming from this poor soul.

I approached him. I needed to find where he was hiding this food! The hunger was burning me! It was excruciating! My insides were not only burning with unholy fire, but also twisting themselves around in anticipation for something delicious.

And then, it was almost as if my body was on auto-pilot and I was just a helpless passenger instead of the driver. I fell to my knees and began to crawl toward the man. My mouth was so wet with juices that they frothed forth and down my chin. I had wished I could wipe them away, but my body would not obey any of my commands.

Onward my body crawled until it reached the man’s legs. My hands clasped his pants and began dragging his body toward me.

He screamed like I had never heard another person scream before. There was something primal about the sound. It conveyed to me such a degree of mortal terror that any aspersions I’d had as to this being an elaborate prank were instantly dashed. And, here I was helpless to stop my body from causing this man such fright!

I tried to will my body to stop. It must stop. I would not be any part of this. I could not. For, I could evidently see what goal my body had intended. It wanted to feed. And, this man was on the menu!

With all the will I could muster I pushed myself away from the dying man. With one mighty shove it was I fell prostrate upon my back. Having temporarily regained control of my motor functions, I scrambled backwards trying to remove myself from the vicinity of the man’s alluring scent.

Oh god!
I screamed in my head.
What was I thinking? Alluring?

He smell
s delicious
, part of me seemed to answer. “NO!” I screamed aloud.

Why, by GOD, why was this happening? I had to remove myself from the police station’s foyer – from the temptation which would once again entice my body to the degree that I could no longer stop it from entering some sick kind of cannibalistic auto-pilot. I didn’t stop scrambling until I was hidden well behind the wall between the desk-filled chamber and the foyer.

From the other room I heard a voice, “Byron? What’s wrong?” It was Pam. “We need to help this man. He’s going to die if we don’t do something. He was injured when one of those things tried to kill him.”

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. What would I say? What things? This was all part of a prank, wasn’t it? A joke engineered by my sadistic frat brothers?

I knew the truth now. I could no longer deny it. Props and settings were one thing, but there was no way they could have taken control of my body. No. Something sinister was afoot here. And, I had no idea what it was.

“Pam,” I said, the saliva in my still-watering mouth making speech much easier, “what’s going on?”

“Byron,” she replied with a new tone of concern in her voice. “What do you mean ‘what‘s going on’? Those things are everywhere! They’re killing everyone!”

My mind went blank.
What things?

I hadn’t realized that I’d actually asked that out loud. Pam responded nonetheless, “the bodies… the dead bodies. It’s like there’s some kind of… I can’t believe I’m saying this… Zombie invasion or something.” There was an obvious fear in her voice that illustrated the undisputable truth to her words.

This wasn’t a prank. There really was something going on here. The police station really was empty! And, people were either dead or dying!

But, the most important question that occurred to me was not about other peoples’ well-being. No. It was this: what happened to me?