Pandemic Z (Book 1): Pandemic Z Page 5

  Screw this. Harry sprinted back with his heart racing. He felt like he was on fire. He grabbed his bike and hurried away. His tires groaned with his commands, and Harry cursed himself again for not putting more air into them that morning.

  As he zoomed down the little street, his legs burned wildly. He glanced back, hoping to see the local children running after him, laughing. He hoped that this was a joke. Then he could get back to his paper route—which he was extremely late for.

  Unfortunately for him, no kids jumped out. There was only the staggering zombie lazily chasing behind.

  Harry tried to think about his friends to distract him from what just happened. He knew Oliver and George were done with their round by now. Even though George was slower and got distracted easily, he was still efficient at delivering his papers. Often, he’d put them in the little blue protective bags the newsagent used for rainy days so the newspapers wouldn’t get damaged, and he would just throw them at the garden path as he cycled by.

  Although one time, he smashed a garden gnome to smithereens with his projectile newspaper, but the owner never report anything. George liked to boast about his so-called “sniper skills,” and he told everyone about the Garden Gnome Encounter.

  People were often genuinely shocked that someone like George—The Walnut Whip King—could pull off such a daring stunt as he told. But in all fairness, George liked to add different flares to his stories, depending on his audience.

  Harry tried to focus himself on the road ahead and the undead behind him. What a story to tell the others. This would beat George’s garden gnome encounter hands down. There was a real-life zombie chasing after him! Neither of them would believe him, even he didn’t believe himself.

  His legs were getting tired from pedaling so fast. Normally, he could ride all day, but this was a different type of riding. This was frantic. He pushed forward, knowing the last thing he had the energy for was another zombie attack.

  He turned the corner to head to his route and saw two more sagging figures. Their clothes mismatched, and their eyes were black. Harry slammed on the brakes.

  Shit. Harry had no choice but to whip his bike around and pedal the other way. One I can deal with, but two?

  After what felt like a lifetime, Harry slowed down. He had hoped that if he listened to the surrounding sounds, it would help him know if zombies were close. Harry couldn’t hear them, but that meant nothing. The trees whistled in the breeze, and his long hair bounced as he cycled. This had turned out to be an awful day. He wished he’d stayed asleep.

  Chapter Six

  URGENT—OPEN FIRST. The title greatly bothered Lena as she opened the email, and the little loading circle filled her with suspense.

  15% loaded.

  She tried to breathe normally, but the news, the email title, and everything else that was going on unsettled her.

  27% loaded.

  The internet was slow, but she wasn’t surprised. The economy class Wi-Fi was always slow, and so many people were using it at the same time.

  33%.

  Hurry up! She silently begged, but it did nothing to the slow crawling loading circle.

  45%.

  Oh, for God’s sake.

  59%.

  She watched Barry play his game to pass time, but that only annoyed her more.

  64%.

  She drummed her fingers on her leg. Sunshine was still asleep beside her and taking up a lot of space, but at least his snoring was quieter.

  70%.

  Almost there.

  89%.

  A thousand different thoughts rushed through her mind as the loading circle continued on its journey. Lena repeatedly tapped the screen awake so it wouldn’t go dark and stop the progress.

  95%.

  Lena took a deep breath in. Finally.

  100%.

  The circle completed and held for a moment before showing the important email from Joel. Lena furrowed her eyebrows and focused closely as she read the words. This can’t be right, she told herself as she read the email a second time. No. This is all wrong.

  She read the email again. <>

  She looked over at Barry’s game. It was just a video game he had created from his imagination. It wasn’t reality—it couldn’t be reality. Lena watched as a large figure sunk his bared teeth into the closest man. The encounter was silent and quick. Not over a few seconds long, but it looked real. It looked just as real as the news footage that was playing on the TV in the row in front.

  The bitten man on the game jittered for a moment as if being repeatedly struck with a Taser. Then he stood tall, and his head fell forward while his eyes blackened and dilated. His skin was suddenly a gross shade of gray, the kind of gray the sky got before a raging winter rainfall.

  Lena carried on reading the email. <>

  It must be serious if it has Joel swearing, Lena thought to herself. Joel was great about his cursing. He liked to show a professional and noble front to those he worked with. Only after a few shots of whiskey or when a situation was grave did he curse. This must be bad.

  Lena laid her head against the headrest and slowly exhaled. Her head was pounding, and all she wanted was another glass of wine to help clear the fog in her mind. Barry was chuckling away to himself, and suddenly, he let out a louder whispered, “Yes!”

  She looked over at the computer screen. Barry was face to face with a zombie twice the size of his character. Barry was biting his lip as he tapped impatiently at the laptop keys. Spurts of fire leaped out of the end of the character’s weapon and ricocheted off the zombie’s chest. Barry was frantically trying to shoot at the zombie, but nothing would kill it.

  He paused for a moment, then tilted the end of the weapon up so it aimed at the zombie’s head. He tapped a key only once, and a powerful burst of fire spewed from the gun. It ignited the enemy’s head, and the giant slowly fell to the ground, defeated. Its brains oozed out of every pour as the flames died down. A black and pink mess remained from the fallen giant.

  Barry grinned. “Gotcha motherfucker!” he whispered triumphantly.

  The graphics in the game were well done. The zombie looked so real as it fell. The character holding his weapon and moving around looked just as realistic. Even the details of the character’s clothes were finely made. They had overlooked nothing, and impressing Lena with his skill.

  Lena turned her attention back to the phone to read the rest of the email again.

  <
  Regardless, you need to get to the office soon. We’re going to put out an announcement that enforces a curfew. We’re using terrorists as a cover story. It’s not terrorists, that we know of, but it bloody well could be. Be safe, don’t get bitten, and report here as soon as you can.>>

  Joel didn’t even sign the email. First he’s swearing, now he doesn’t sign the email? This wasn’t like Joel. He never, under any circumstances, sent an unsigned email. He thought it was unprofessional and looked lazy. Lena still couldn’t believe what she was reading.

  The phone screen went dark, and she could see her reflection. She looked at herself for a moment, trying to put the pieces of the crazy jigsaw puzzle together, but nothing fit together. There were so many pieces, but none of it made sense.

  Lena scanned the plane, looking for anyone who could be infected. She really hoped there weren’t any on the flight.

  Joel had said only a headshot would kill them, and Lena had nothing to defend herself with. In her purse, she had
some lipstick, her passport, and a pack of chewing gum. None of these items could help her, not unless the zombie wanted fresh breath and luscious lips.

  She continued scanning, not knowing what to search for. The videos had been of greyish, clumsy, and slow figures who groaned a lot. Surely, they would stick out like a sore thumb on such a quiet flight.

  Lena saw nothing out of the ordinary. A mother and two kids sat a few rows back. One of the kids had headphones on as he pushed excitedly at his screen. The mother read the in-flight magazine from the seat pocket. Her daughter stared longingly out the window. Nothing was different about them.

  Another row had two sleeping businessmen in tight suits. Their ties were askew, and their mouths hung open awkwardly. The lady in the middle of them watched a movie on her TV. Other kids played games or asked endless questions. Business travelers dozed after such an early commute for the flight, and other people watched TV or fixated on their different devices. It was just a normal flight with normal people.

  Lena took a moment to stare at Sunshine. He looked odd, but he always looked like that ever since he first ran into Lena on his way to Walgreens. He’d been asleep since he emerged from the bathroom before taking off. She wondered how someone could sleep that long without even turning over for a more comfortable position.

  Sunshine was snoring much quieter now. It wasn’t much more than a soft, throaty, heavy breathing. The smell coming from his mouth was much less invasive, but Lena could still smell the old coffee with a slight egg tinge.

  He slumped lower in his seat so that his stomach was pushing against the seat in front. If either Lena or Barry needed the bathroom, they had no hope of getting by without waking the beast from his slumber. His clothes had become wrinkled and bunching tightly in different places. Sunshine didn’t seem to move at any noise no matter how loud. A rock concert could happen in Row 58, and he probably wouldn’t move.

  Suddenly, a newsflash jingle came singing through the headphone in her ear. She had forgotten all about the BBC news footage playing. The fighting on the streets had become so repetitious that she had turned the volume down to focus on the email from Joel.

  A large news bulletin flashed on the screen in red. Barry quickly looked up from his game and flicked the TV back to BBC. He shoved his headphone jack into the port and sat up in his seat, attentive to the red flashing warning. A reporter came out, clutching pages in his hands, and he cleared his throat before spilling the bad news.

  “We have an urgent report to warn the public,” he began tactfully. “Please stop what you are doing and pay attention.”

  The plane got a little quieter as TV after TV switched to the BBC news bulletin. Even the flight crew stopped the drink cart to watch the important message.

  “People of the public, we have been informed of a terrorist alert.” A collective gasp rippled throughout the plane.

  “A curfew has been put in place, and everyone must adhere to these rules.” He paused. “The military is patrolling the city, keeping our people safe. If they find anyone—and I mean anyone—out on the streets after the appointed curfew, they will shoot to kill.”

  More gasps and concerned shrieks came from several frightened passengers as the news updated everyone.

  Sunshine was still asleep. Lena thought about waking him with the important news, but she had a feeling he wouldn’t care.

  “You must understand that those out on the street after the curfew are believed to be terrorists. It is important that you stay inside. Spread the word. Tell everyone and anyone this is a life or death situation.” He finished his speech, and the message was repeated in different languages.

  After the bulletin finished, the alert jingle played before the TVs resumed the same fighting on the streets. The air in the plane was tense, and people were visibly frightened by what they had heard. No one dared flick to another channel before another update.

  Barry gently took his headphones off and placed them on his keyboard. He looked briefly out the small window before focusing back on the TV screen.

  Lena didn’t want to take her headphones out. Joel had been telling the truth. The announcement went public, and the situation was critical. She sighed and tried to plan her next move.

  She watched the fighting on the streets, hoping to find a strategy. All she knew was that this infection was transmitted through saliva. That explained why they bit one another, only to rise and attack even more.

  I’ll have to try not to kiss any of the zombies then, she thought before she involuntarily burst out laughing at the thought of snogging a zombie. Though the situation wasn’t funny in the least, the tiniest bit of humor helped her process the dire situation.

  Other passengers looked at her grimly. She tried to stop laughing, but the more she tried, the harder she laughed. All she could do was continue to laugh.

  “Lena?” Barry asked.

  She tried to compose herself but snorted with laughter. It wasn’t even funny. The whole situation was so bizarre and serious that the only thing Lena could do was laugh at it.

  She thought of the news and the awkward figures filling the streets. She thought of them biting others before the bitten victims rose to join the ranks of the undead. She thought of the first man with the gaping hole in his neck, but he was still walking around. The news reporter and scientist reassured the public that the weird outbreak was just PCP. Then came the truth from Joel’s email.

  Everything was odd like someone had shifted all the furniture in the room a centimeter to the left. It doesn’t look any different, but force of habit keeps you keep walking into furniture. Sitting in her economy class, middle seat, everything was just on TV, so it didn’t feel real yet.

  But it was very real. Lena had stopped laughing, and the other people on the flight were settling down.

  After a few minutes, everything slowly returned to normal, and the flight crew resumed the drinks service. The two businessmen who had been asleep nestled their heads against the lumpy headrest and closed their eyes for more shut-eye. The mother who read the in-flight magazine had pulled out a cell phone. She scrutinized the tiny screen in her hands.

  The kids resumed their different games and continuous questions. One toddler—no more than two years old—had a loud rattle and shook it furiously. Lena felt sorry for the man in the seat next to the child, but he didn’t seem to mind. He intensely watched a slow-motion rerun of a ninety-eight-yard touchdown Christian McCaffery had performed, bringing the Carolina Panthers to a stunning lead over the Patriots. It was a good play, and Lena silently cheered on the Panthers, wondering if the man was doing the same.

  Barry gentled poked Lena, and she looked over at him. He had a confused expression on his face. His headphones still laid on his laptop keyboard. His TV showed different fighting worldwide.

  They had split the screen into six different views and showed the same fighting in six different areas. Oxford was there, downtown London, a hot sandy place that looked like an eastern country, a resort of some kind where women in bikinis were drinking cocktails from coconuts, and in the bottom left, it looked like Paris, but Lena couldn’t be sure.

  “So…” Barry slowly emphasized the word, holding on to it as if he didn’t want it to float into the empty abyss of the plane.

  Lena looked at him, puzzled. “What?”

  “Do you think it’s real?” This time, the words rushed from his mouth like the taste was so horrible he had to spit them out quickly.

  Lena thought for a moment. “I’m not sure,” she lied. “It sure looks real.” She paused and scratched her neck.

  Barry pursed his lips and tilted his head left and right. His breathing was slow and pensive. He pointed to the screen. “Look at this,” he said. In six different areas, people were jumping on others and biting them. The same reaction happened. The bitten victims chased the uninfected, their hollow black eyes sucking in the innocents.

  “What do you think of this whole deal?” she asked. Lena’s throat was dry, and she
craved another wine. Silently, begged the flight crew to come back around to offer her another drink.

  He shrugged and tilted his head to the right. He looked at the screen a little more before turning to Lena, his expression somber. “Well, I design zombie games. I’ve read every zombie comic and watched every zombie movie. I know these things like the back of my hand.” He spoke softly. It was like he wanted no one else to hear his thoughts. Lena had to lean in closer to hear his words more clearly.

  “I know these suckers. They seem real.” Barry sounded only half convinced. “They seem like the ones in my game but in better detail.” He kept shaking his head, not believing the situation at hand.

  “But?” Lena pressed.

  Barry seemed confused. “But what?”

  “You seem to only be half-convinced—like there’s something more to say.”

  “I am only half convinced,” he responded.

  “Why?” she asked, but he said nothing. “Barry?”

  Barry stroked his chin. “Hm? Oh, sorry.”

  He looked like a geeky villain, trying to stroke his thick, bushy beard hair, but all Barry had was a tiny dash of peach fuzz. He looked like he just needed a cat balanced on his knee, and the picture would be perfect: Barry the evil computer villain.

  “You look pensive. You just need a cat to finish the look,” Lena joked, and Barry smiled, a bit relieved to be talking about something other than the zombies.

  Barry chuckled. “I suck at keeping pets. One time, I had a hamster, and he was sitting in the corner of the cage for like days. I thought that was weird, so I took it to the vet to see what was up.”

  He paused and laughed lightly again. “The vet asked what had happened before he was in the corner of the cage. I told him that the hamster had been exploring under the fridge and then went back to his cage and hadn’t moved since. Turns out, the little fucker had put a fridge magnet in his cheek pouch and got magnetized to the side of the metal cage. The vet thought it was hilarious, but I felt so foolish.” Barry finished his story and looked out the window as if fondly remembering his magnetic hamster.