As one group sat, waiting on the museum steps, the other group drove through side streets slowly approaching the outside of the alley where Kamara’s car and the van would hopefully be. The streets were too empty, too quiet. It seemed everyone had evacuated but them, and the dead.
Samir called it in. “I see the vehicles. And there are about, I’m counting roughly two dozen zombies at this point. The rest must have moved on.”
“What are you going to do?” Kamara asked at the other end.
He looked to his friends.
“I think we can take them,” Ian said. “They’re slow, and we have weapons now.”
“I agree,” Klaus said.
Samir nodded. “We’re going in,” he told her. “We’re going to get your car and the van back.”
He hung up. The zombies looked up as he revved the engine and drove in full steam, slamming into three of them that were not near either vehicle. The automobile shuddered with the impact as two of them went over and one went under the car. The tires climbed over the zombie in its undercarriage breaking bone and squishing meat.
The three of them stormed out of the vehicle with weapons raised, rushing into the remainder. Samir skewered several through the neck with the bayonet, bringing the brunt of the stock down on their heads when they fell. Ian smashed their heads in with the mace, while Klaus swung his sword with fervor, stabbing foreheads, slicing heads down the middle, and severing heads from bodies. The zombies
never stood a chance.
Klaus drove the van back and Ian took Kamara’s car, as Samir drove his own car back. Their exit from the alley took less than ten minutes. They drove the vehicles back to the museum steps to the sound of cheering.
***
Watching in amazement as Marina pulled a shotgun, two black Ruger pistols with a ten mag round, and an AK-47 out of her closet, Samir barely noticed when he handed her the box.
“Shells, for your Springfield,” she said.
“My...what?” Samir asked.
“Your civil war rifle musket. You needed rounds. Here they are. Never thought I’d actually have use for them. It was more of a novelty, but here they are.”
She pulled out several boxes of ammo for the four weapons she was taking with her.
“Jesus, how much weaponry you have?” Ian said.
“Not nearly enough.” She strapped the two Rugers to a spare ammo belt she cinched around her waist, and carried the AK-47 and the shotgun in either hand. “Just in case.”
Kamara frowned as she placed the two larger weapons in the trunk of her car.
“What?” Marina said, noticing.
“Nothing. I just don’t like guns.”
“Why not?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Okay then. You’re not required to shoot them, but if you ever get in a pinch they’ll come in handy. Believe me.”
Kamara nodded. “I can do just as much damage with this,” she said, raising her battleaxe.
“Just as much? Doubtful. An impressive amount? Maybe.”
***
They arrived at Jomo’s house, packing his mother, father, sister, and brother into the van.
“Where to now?” Marina asked.
“Try to get out of the city,” Kamara said.
Jomo’s father said, “I’ll drive the van,” to his son, “You go with your friends. Follow behind us. I know the quickest route.”
So it was Kamara, Jomo, Xinga, and Marina went in Kamara’s car; Samir, Ian, and Klaus continued in Samir’s car; with Jomo’s family taking the van. Exiting onto the highway they soon learned where all the people had gone. The highway was congested with automobiles, with people trying to flee the city. What they had accomplished instead was gridlock. There were people getting out of their cars in the heat, antsy, sweating, cursing God, and cursing each other. There were several accidents and an ambulance stood on the shoulder, tending to wounded. EMTs were carrying someone on a stretcher into the waiting vehicle. There were two cop cars further up with lights flashing on the side of the road.
“Where’s the military? The National Guard?” Klaus wondered. “This is a major disaster.”
Samir shook his head. “I have no idea.”
The group in the other car was wondering the same thing.
At the first opportunity the van steered into the shoulder to take the next exit off of the highway. There was going to be no clearing of the traffic jam in the foreseeable future. The cop whooped his siren as he did this and then the two other cars followed suit. They didn’t give chase. They already had too much on their hands to worry about people using the shoulder to exit.
They entered a little podunk town that seemed to have nothing but an unserviceable gas station, a railroad track, and a few homeless souls wandering about. The rest was trees and boarded up homes.
“I don’t think this was the intended destination,” Marina said.
“My father will find a way out,” Jomo assured them.
SIX HOURS EARLIER
Elsa set out breakfast- a stack of pancakes, and lightly buttered toast with eggs sunny side up. A mug of coffee and a glass of orange juice already waited.
“You’re too good to me,” Klaus said.
She smiled. “Yeah, you just remember that.”
“Can I get regular pancakes just once though?” he asked.
“Sure, if you make them yourself. If I’m making breakfast you get buckwheat pancakes, organic eggs and multigrain toast.”
“Okay, you win,” Klaus said, digging in.
“Of course I do,” she smiled.
A news brief from Alaska transmitted on the TV at the kitchen counter. Neither one of them were paying attention as the newswoman spoke of a rash of cows recently discovered with the dreaded Mad Cow Disease. Already officials were recognizing this especially virulent strain, and several men at the farm had fallen ill with flu like symptoms after consumption of the cow’s milk. The first case of what would be known as the Mad Cow Flu in the continental US would present itself minutes later as a man named Robert Walker would disembark from a plane at the Atlanta airport.
***
She watched the news from the couch in her dormitory as she ate a blueberry muffin. It was captioned with her preferred language- Chinese. They were speaking of some strange disease on a farm in Kenya. Xinga watched with dismay as she ate, absorbing what she could about it. She thought immediately of Jomo, the new addition to their group, not knowing that they would all come face to face with the disease this very day. She changed the channel to something happier, finished her muffin, and smiled as she prepared for classes.
***
When Ashley left for her class Ian finally got up from bed and made himself breakfast. He was not a morning bloke, and unless she was waking him up with sex it pretty much wasn’t worth getting up for. But he did have class himself in forty five minutes, so he had to make a quick meal and get in a quick shower. Seeing her from his bed in a bleary state was typical. She’d sleep over and do her routine, then go home, and possibly change for a date that night, depending on the evening. If he’d suspected what might happen later he might have made more of an effort to send her off, or possibly he’d have kept her there. But Ian had no idea this was the last time he’d see her alive.
***
Tired after a double shift at Gilly’s Yacht Club the day before Marina woke groggy. She’d hit the snooze three times, and now it was time to seriously get her butt out of bed. Breakfast consisted of burnt toast and orange juice. Her mother phoned from Russia, a rarity. They loved each other but were never close, and with the distance between them, both emotional and geographical, and the cost of long distance calls, they spoke maybe every couple of months. The call was cursory, to see how she was getting by, if she was doing all right. She put her father on the phone for a bit as well. They got along slightly better. The entire call was shorter than ten minutes, which was fine because she had less than twenty to get to the school.
She eyed the guns in her closet as she picked out her clothes. For some reason she almost wanted to take one with her, as if it would protect her from something, but of course the school didn’t allow weapons of any kind, let alone guns. She didn’t know why she had this odd sense of impending tragedy, but she was probably just rattled by the unexpected phone call. Marina dressed and left for the day, opting for her boots rather than sneakers.
***
His mother called him from the kitchen. Jomo was excited and ready for his day. His parents had set out healthy fruits and vegetables, and milk and orange juice on the table. His mother had also made a bowl of steaming oatmeal for Jomo with raisins in it as he liked. He smiled up at her as he sat, and she smoothed the back of his close cropped hair with her hand as he looked down at his meal, admiring her boy.
“Are you ready for school?” she asked.
“Yes ma’am,” he answered her.
She nodded approvingly. “Eat up.”
His father sat across from him at the table and said, “Good morning Jomo.”
“Good morning Father.”
His mother joined him and his brother and sister at the table, and they all sat and ate in companionable silence.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away in their homeland, unbeknownst to all, a plague was beginning.
***
The attendant at the drive thru was unbearably slow, and Guadalupe only wanted to get her shake and fries and go. She was already running late for her first class, even though her parents had practically pushed her out the door to get her going. She wasn’t one to get irritated easily, but they were consistently slow. Lupe only went to this burger place because it was along her route.
She considered skipping school altogether. She wasn’t really in a school mood anyway. But Lupe had to keep her grades up. It was more than not wanting to go to school though. It was more like dread.
That was weird. Why would she dread going to school, especially today when she didn’t have any tests, or any tough classes? Lupe shook her head. Ah,
screw it.
“Never mind!” she yelled toward the window agent who was just out of sight in the back, probably picking his nose or something. She drove off.
“Hey! Hey!” she heard someone yell seconds later. No time to turn back now. Guess she’d have to be hungry a little longer.
***
Samir didn’t know what to make of the odd illness that had struck at a dairy farm in Mumbai, but he ate his meal nevertheless, perusing his notes for study group. He wanted to make sure he hadn’t missed anything important, and that it would be both educational
and
entertaining for his friends. It was a testament to his research and his ability to connect with them that the group was still fully functional. Still something in his brain said he’d be called upon to do more than cite research and entertain. It could be the Mad Cow scare in his homeland had him spooked, but still that unnerving feeling was there.
***
She picked up the phone on the third ring, without looking at the caller ID.
“Hello?”
“Hey Kamara. It’s me.”
Her ex-boyfriend Darius.
“Oh hey,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
“Look, I’ve been thinking about things a lot, and about the way I ended things...”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I just thought we should give it another
chance. I miss you.”
“Well, I missed you too. But I can’t go through that again. You being into me, then you’re not sure, then you want to try. I can’t do it anymore. My heart
can’t take it.”
“I know, and I’m sorry. This time I’ll make it work. This time I’ll be committed to you. I promise. I swear!”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t. I can’t trust that it’s going to be any different this time.” There was silence on the other line. “Darius, did you hear me?”
“Yes. I heard. All right; if that’s what you want.”
“That’s what I want.”
“Okay.”
“Bye.”
“Bye,” he said solemnly.
The moment she hung up she cried. Two minutes later she blocked his number. She didn’t know what else to do.
Her cat Bella jumped on the sofa beside her, looking up at her with concern, and then leapt onto her shoulder, nuzzling her face. She was hardly ever this affectionate, but as animals do she sensed her owner’s distress and did her best to comfort. Kamara kissed her on the top of the head, caressing her pelt. She didn’t know if it was her state of mind, but something felt unnervingly wrong about this day.
***
Four and a half hours after Darius hung up he heard a pounding on the door.
“All right, all right! I’m coming!” he said. Darius peeked through the keyhole but the person behind the door kept shifting. All he could make out was a white lab coat. If he had seen the blood on it he might not have opened the door, but he did. The banging on the door wasn’t knocking, but the sound of something smelling him, and trying to get in. The moment he unbolted the door, opening it just a crack to look, the thing behind the door shoved through. It was a man but with the face of a demon, seemingly possessed. It gnashed with its teeth and tore out his throat. Blood spurting from the wound, he staggered back and fell to the floor. The man/demon crouched atop him, eating his face as the last breath in him died.