The woman and two boys began to feast on the bodies before them. The banquet was interrupted as three police officers entered the screen with guns drawn. The woman looked up and hesitated for a moment, torn between the ample food before her and the prospect of more food fifty feet away.
The officers spread out as they hesitantly drew closer.
As with all predators, the prospect of a living quarry won out. She rose upright and canted her head sideways, looking at the officer in the center. A moment later, she charged.
Still crouched on their haunches, the two boys watched as the center officer’s gun bounced in his hands, the recoil from each shot kicking the barrel up. The woman staggered momentarily, but continued her charge, quickly closing the distance. The end of the pistol continued to bounce up and down as the officer rapidly pulled the trigger. Each bounce resulted in the woman jerking as a bullet ripped through her flesh, but still she continued her onslaught. The officer must have emptied his gun because he dropped a hand to the magazine pouch on his belt. He was too late. The woman launched her body, bowling him over.
One of the partner officers bolted to his fallen comrade. He screwed the end of his gun to the side of her head as she tore into the prostrate policeman. An effusion erupted from the opposite side of her head as she slumped to the ground and lay motionless, her body draped across the dead constable beneath her.
The boys lost interest in the feast in front of them. Both rose to their feet and advanced on the officer who had slain the woman. Whether their advance was due to anger over the woman’s death, an instinctual response to food, or out of self-preservation was unclear. Whatever the motivation, they charged at full speed. The second officer’s gun barrel began bouncing up and down on the television screen as the duo closed the distance to his partner. The third officer lifted his gun, but it didn’t recoil immediately. When it did, the older boy’s head rocked backwards. His feet stopped moving and his body crumpled to the ground, skidding to a stop. The second boy lunged at the officer, leaving his feet in a flying tackle. At the last moment, the officer moved to the side with the agility of a rodeo clown sidestepping a two thousand pound bull. His gun tracked the body as it crashed down and slid across the tile floor.
The boy immediately pushed himself up on his hands and knees and redirected his attack as he came to his feet. But before he was completely upright, the officer’s gun jumped a final time. The boy’s head popped back in response to the violent collision of lead and bone. He sank to his knees and slumped backwards to the floor.
The officers shifted their guns from one corpse to the next as if they expected them to rise again and continue their offensive. After several seconds, one officer looked at the other. A moment later the first nodded his head. The second officer holstered his pistol and turned to his fallen partner while the other kept the three bodies covered with his weapon. Seconds later, another officer burst onto the screen. Two more appeared ten seconds later. Within a minute, the screen was filled with officers milling back and forth, most congregated around their fallen brother. A backdrop of spectators gathered behind, looking on in horror.
The screen returned to the commentator who had remained silent during the scene in the airport. She understood the power of letting the video speak for itself. With the recording concluded, she resumed speaking.
“The uncensored carnage you have just witnessed is not isolated to the airport. It has been spreading across the country, popping up here and there in isolated incidents which are growing more and more frequent. People all over the United States are coming down with a mystery illness. Within hours, the virus proves to be fatal. On an average of thirty minutes later, the dead are coming back to life as you have just witnessed.
“Early reports are indicating that these outbreaks of violence are caused by a highly contagious disease. So far every reported case has led to death.
“Additional reports are stating that the only way to stop the infected is to inflict massive head trauma. Officials are advising that everybody avoid the infected at all costs.
“If someone you know becomes infected, notify the police and immediately get away from him. We are being asked to advise the public to stay where they are. If you are at home, stay there. If you are at work, remain there. We don’t have official confirmation, but unofficially the sickness is airborne and is highly contagious.
“Coming up next will be Doctor Clark at the Centers for Disease Control. He will fill us in on the details of the infection and recommend precautions against it.” The image on the screen returned to video of violence and carnage from across the country. All the clips showed the infected attacking and ravaging terrified citizens.
Zeke stood motionless for five minutes, spellbound by the images of death and mutilation flashing across the screen. Although the droning of the commentator’s voice filled his ears, he didn’t register what was being said. Her words had no meaning to him. He was so disturbingly drawn into the visual stimulus, the audio was lost. Finally, he broke free from the hypnotic trance that had held him and looked at the others. None of them had spoken. They, too, were in a state of mesmerized hypnosis.
Zeke hesitated, afraid to speak, almost as if doing so would break some unknown etiquette. Finally the words came out, shaky and unsure, which was unusual for him. “Is the disease here?” he asked.
Meagan, the receptionist, turned, noticing him for the first time since he walked into the room. “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “It sounds like it’s everywhere, but they haven’t specifically said anything about Atlanta. I came in ten minutes ago, for coffee. They may have said something about it before I got here.”
“It’s here,” James said, without turning away from the screen. James was a broker who had been with the company for about a year. “Before Meagan came in, they put up a map of the country with reported cases shown as red dots. It isn’t as bad here as on the west coast because they are quarantining people from the flights that landed last night, but a few flights landed before the quarantine went into effect. As of a couple hours ago, they shut down air travel, and most states have put up roadblocks along their borders.”
“Do they think they can contain it?” Zeke asked hopefully.
“I don’t know,” James stated flatly. “They say they’re trying, but who knows. There hasn’t been much information at this point. It’s caused by some sort of disease, but beyond that, they either don’t know or won’t say. Some people are saying it’s a virus, some are saying it’s a bacterial infection. Others are saying it is a terrorist chemical attack. My impression is nobody knows what’s causing it. The only thing everybody seems to be agreeing on is that it’s best to stay wherever you are.”
The screen changed to a small stage with blue curtains in the background. A man with thinning gray hair approached an oak podium emblazoned with a blue graphic containing the letters CDC. His wrinkled button-down shirt and the puffy, dark colored skin behind his large frame glasses suggested he hadn’t slept last night, or if he had, he had slept in his cloths and hadn’t gotten much rest.
“Good morning.” he said, as he placed a sheet of notes on the podium. “My name is Dr. Clark, and I work with the Centers for Disease Control. As you all know, we are faced with an unprecedented situation. A devastating virus is currently sweeping across the nation. The death toll is rising at an exponential rate. There are many things about the virus that are unknown. What we do know is the virus is airborne and is extremely virulent. Current figures are showing that the virus is fatal within six hours of exposure. As many of you have seen in news reports, those who die from the disease are coming back to life approximately thirty minutes after death occurs.
“There are some precautions we are recommending that people take. First of all, stay where you are. If you are at home, do not leave your house. If you happen to be at work, stay there. The best way to protect yourself and your loved ones from the virus is to prevent exposure to it in the first place. We are asking people to remain calm. Panic will not help the situation.
“If you come in contact with someone who is infected, we ask that you notify the nearest hospital and quarantine yourself for at least six hours. Do not go to the hospital because, as of right now, there is nothing they can do for you and you are going to risk exposing large numbers of people.
“People who succumb to the illness and come back from the dead are easy to recognize. They move very erratically. They are unable to speak and their cognitive abilities are decreased to an instinctual level. If you see such a person, notify the police and stay away from the individual. They are extremely aggressive and, as you have probably already seen, will attack without any provocation.
“We don’t know a lot about the revived dead, but we do know that they undergo drastic metabolic changes. The only certain way to stop them is to destroy their brain. We are not advocating that people begin hunting the revived dead, but if you encounter one and are forced to defend yourself, injuries that would kill a normal human being have no effect. The infected are able to function indefinitely without their lungs. We believe they need their heart, but even destroying the heart does not produce immediate death. It is believed that they can live for upwards of twenty minutes without a beating heart.
“I am not going to take questions at this time. We will be making regular statements when more information is available. At this point, all I can say is stay where you are.”
As Dr. Clark folded his notes and placed them in his pocket, the reporters in the room exploded in a raucous uproar of questions that prevented any one individual from being heard.
Dr. Clark raised his hand and the room quieted. “I will make another statement as soon as there is more to tell.”
As he turned to walk away, a booming voice erupted before it could be covered by the others. “Doctor, how bad is it?” the man asked.
Dr. Clark stopped mid-stride and turned back to the sea of reporters. “It is the worst case scenario we could have imagined. It is imperative that you shelter in place. Stay where you are.” And he walked off the stage, disappearing behind the curtain, chased by the din of questions reverberating through the room.
The broadcast on the television returned to the commentator. Apparently, Dr. Clark’s speech had the same effect on her as it had on the viewers in the break room. She sat silent for several seconds before she started. “We have just heard Dr. Clark at the CDC shed some light on what is happening. We learned the infection is caused by a virus. Dr. Clark has advised everyone to take shelter wherever they are. It is your best hope to avoid contact with what we are learning is a highly contagious disease.” Even the studio makeup and lighting couldn’t hide the pallor that washed over her skin. She had lost the objectivity and indifference newscasters strive so hard to portray. She had just as much at stake as the viewers. She was susceptible to the same fears and emotions as everybody else, and she had reached the limit of what she could hide.
In an uncharacteristic act of vulnerability, she turned to the side and asked, “Could somebody please bring me some water?” A young woman quickly and self-consciously walked onto the set with a clear plastic bottle and set it on the desk before scurrying out of view. The anchor twisted the top and chugged half the bottle before recapping it and setting it out of view below the desk. She continued speaking, obviously disturbed.
Bruce, who was sitting at the right side of the ring of chairs, turned and asked, “What do we do?”
“Do whatever you want,” James said as he stood up. “I’m out of here, though. I’m going home to get my wife and we’re heading to our cabin in Blairsville. We don’t have a lot of room, but anyone who needs a place can come with us. We have plenty of food there and we have a well with good water on the property.”
“But they said to stay where we are,” Meagan interrupted.
“I’m not begging you to come. I’m just offering an out of the way place to hide out,” James retorted. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care. What about you?” he asked, turning to face Zeke.
“I don’t know.” Zeke hesitated. “Blairsville is a two hour drive on a good day. Traffic was really heavy leaving town when I came in. With the announcement we just heard, it’s going to be gridlock. I appreciate the offer, but I think I like my chances here in the building. There’s food and water and we can lock up and stay secure. I’m afraid it’s going to be anarchy out there.”
“All right,” James said as he started for the door. “Anybody else want to come?” Several people shook their heads no, while others simply stared at the floor, wondering if they were doing the right thing by passing on a place to escape outside of the city. “Good luck to all of you,” he said as he walked out the door.
“Wait a minute,” Bruce said, standing up. “I’m coming with you.” He nearly toppled his chair in his haste to not be left behind.
After the two left the room, Zeke turned his back to the TV and the others in the room and walked to the window which overlooked the empty street. Looking as far as possible in either direction, he saw no one except an old bum burrowing through a trash can. After several minutes, James’s Infinity pull out of the side street and start east toward the freeway.
“Why don’t you turn it to a local station and see what’s happening here?” someone suggested. The local situation was different, but not better. Five minutes was enough for Zeke to realize he should have turned around before he made it to work. The clips didn’t show the infected mauling people. Instead it showed healthy people looting and mugging other people. Gangs were leaving their neighborhoods in mass, having already plundered the local stores. Moving to higher-end shopping centers, they were killing anyone who got in their way and walking out with whatever they could carry.
Scenes from grocery stores were just as bad. Soccer moms were heaping weeks’ worth of food into over laden carts and simply pushing past objecting employees without paying. Mini vans were exiting the premises with groceries stacked up to the windows. Within half an hour of the CDC announcement, shelves were picked clean of anything useful. Many owners simply refused to open the doors of their businesses. Armed guards for hire became the top commodity in the city. They defended businesses until somebody with a bigger gun wanted to shop. A lone man could do little against a determined, armed mob.
There seemed to be a unanimous sentiment that leaving the city was a good thing. Those who had cars hit the freeway. Bus drivers absconded with city buses and began offering high-dollar, overcrowded rides out of the city to anyone who would pay.
A taxi ride that cost eighty dollars yesterday cost a thousand today, cash up front. The freeways became impassable. Rather than wait an hour to fill up with gas, people tried to make it out of the city on fumes and ran out of fuel. Even if they could have moved to the shoulder, it wouldn’t have mattered because the shoulder had become another lane of travel. People simply left their dead cars in the lane, and began walking. Lanes into the city became lanes out of the city, but it made no difference because they plugged up, too.
City streets fared no better. Any street with a gas station had lines half a mile long or more, effectively preventing any through traffic.
The police were out in force, but they could only do so much. They began responding in groups of four. 911 lines were inundated to the point that calling was of no use. Units were self-dispatched by the sound of gun fire rather than the radio. Looting was overlooked so long as it occurred peacefully, and more than one clip showed on-duty officers themselves looting. For the most part, though, law enforcement efforts were focused on keeping the gangs and general anarchy in check, and they seemed to be effective to some degree.
“I don’t understand,” Meagan said, looking out the window. “The TV says the roads are all blocked, but there isn’t a single car on this one.”
“It’s because there’s nothing of value on this street,” one of the IT guys said. “We’re in the financial district and the road doesn’t go anywhere. There’s no reason for anybody to be here.”
“He’s right,” Zeke agreed. “This is probably one of the safest places in the city. I can’t think of any reason people would come here.”