Young Writers Society

Friday, February 21st, 2014 started off like every other day. A bright sun rose over the horizon of the city into the window of Jerry Piner, an executive business man for a prominent ad agency. The breeze that blew in through the window, carrying the beginning of that seventy-seven degree weather that was promised to them, was perfect to wake up to. Despite his misgivings about uprooting his family and moving to Phoenix, Arizona, the view and the weather had been ideal. Rolling over in those white satin sheets, Jerry ran his hand over the empty space beside him in his queen size bed, where the outline of his wife, Katherine, still remained. Lifting his groggy head from the soft pillow that desperately called him to lay his head down and go back to sleep, he could hear the sound of the shower running where his wife was getting ready for her day. Pulling himself from the entrapping sheets, that hung like netting to keep him trapped, he walked to the cracked bathroom door that steam escaped from in a thin line of incorporeal mist. Pushing the door open he glimpsed the hidden beauty behind the frosted glass that was currently busy rubbing that lavender scented shampoo in her hair. Slipping off his pajama pants and boxers he quietly slipped into the shower and gazed over the back of his wife's beautiful frame. Long legs traveled up to her widely curved hips. From there to her thinned out waist up her smooth back and raised slender arms that were tangled in her luscious brunette hair. She had given birth to two of the most wonderful children and she was still gorgeous. Closing the door behind him he slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close eliciting a gasp from her. “Oh, did I scare you?” Jerry remarked.

“You know very well what you did,” Katherine retorted, leaning back into his arms. “Kids still asleep?”

“I didn't hear Marian crying on the monitor and I don't hear an elephant herd, so Edward is still asleep.”

“Oh? Some time to ourselves? Maybe we should take advantage of it,” Katherine smiled, turning around and pressing her full lips to his.

“I like the sound of that,” Jerry said, as he caught the coy and seductive look in her eyes. Pressing their lips together once more the sudden crying of a beautiful baby girl is heard over the monitor and brought the mood to a grinding halt.

The two smile as they knew that their spontaneous plans where now canceled. “You should have woken up earlier,” Katherine said, kissing Jerry on the cheek. “Don't worry. We'll finish up tonight.” Sliding the frosted glass door back, releasing a cloud of steam, he grabbed one of the pair of brown towels that hung on the silver bar mounted into the tile to dry off. Draping a robe around his shoulders and tying it off he walked from his room to his infant daughter's.

Opening the door he smiled as the light purple colored walls that his wife had been so adamant at having. After the couple days of painting and sticking up the large butterfly wall stickers, Jerry admitted that the room was perfect. An oak colored crib sat across the room with a small mobile that would slowly turn an entourage of butterflies and teddy bears in a circle. Just barely seen through the light colored bars were two small hands trying desperately to reach the acrobatic creatures above her head. “Hey, there princess,” Jerry said, leaning over the side of the crib. A scruff of brunette hair rests like thin wisps on her head and bright blue eyes stare up at Jerry. She kicked her feet in her light purple sleeper to bring attention to her impatient plea for release. “Ya'know Marian, you keep interrupting mommy and daddy's quiet time together. You psychic or something?” Marian stared at him for a moment before giving him a toothless smile and giggle. “Yeah, you know what you're doing.” Jerry reached down and lifted Marian up into the air with a wide smile spread across his stubble covered features. It didn't matter what kind of day that he was having, just coming home and seeing Marian bouncing in her seat with a wide smile on her face was enough to fix the worst of days.

As Jerry changed Marian's diaper there came the thunder. A pair of little feet slamming on the wood floor and making the picture frames of different family vacations on the wall rattle, threatening to drop from their precarious perch. “Edward is awake,” Jerry said to Marian. “Let's go say good morning.” Closing the snaps on her outfit, she giggled as she was lifted into the air. Coming out of Marian's purple room he saw the figurative fire trails of his son, who was careening down the halls like a jumbo jet maneuvering through the Grand Canyon. “Let's go get him,” Jerry said, before taking off after his son with his daughter in his arms. He held her like she flying through the air as Superman would before bumping her into her brother gaining a squeal from both of the children. Chasing Edward's brown hair covered head and half naked body through the house, around the fine mahogany table in the dining room, and the ornate sofas in the living room.

All the running and chasing halted at once as Katherine came out, dressed in her teal colored scrubs, and scooped Edward into her arms for a little pre-breakfast meal of little boy tummy. Jerry put Marian in her high chair and left to take his own shower as Katherine made breakfast. Scrubbing down with soap and lathering his hair with shampoo he rinsed and sat in the water for a while turning it from hot to cold so it would ease a specific source of discomfort that had been aggravated. Dragging his razor against the grain of his stubble, he smoothed out his features and left the remains of his five o'clock shadow down the drain. Wincing as the sharp metal gave a small cut along his jaw. Brushing his hair to the side with a part going down the right side of his scalp. Black slacks with light gray pin-striping held up by a black belt and a white collared shirt with a crimson tie. Jerry found looking professional was more of an art than it was a skill.

The smell of frying bacon and scrambled eggs called to Jerry from the kitchen. The wafting fragrance beckoning him to enjoy and fill himself with their deliciousness. Marian was content in her chair having filled up on applesauce and now played with her plastic rings that she banged on the table with glee. Edward sat in his booster seat eating and humming his most recent favorite made-up tune. Jerry flipped on the small television that rested on the counter as a news reporter, her hair done up with an ungodly amount of hair spray and make-up meant to keep her from looking pale on camera, came on the screen making the announcements of the morning. “More on this story as it develops,” the reporter said. “Major pharmaceutical companies are rallying behind a new rabies vaccine that is meant to not only prevent humans from contracting the virus; but, potentially cure those that are already suffering symptoms of it.”

“Huh,” Jerry said, droning out the reporter as she continued on to the development and concerns of the new vaccine. “You hear about this?”

Katherine nodded. “Yeah. They sent out shipments a few days ago to the FDA and several of the African countries. The new policy is that we are going to start making it part of the regular health care. I'm gonna be late if I don't head out. Love you.” Katherine kissed him on the cheek as she hurried out the door.

“Possible side-effects of the vaccine are nausea, feelings of being light-headed, raised blood pressure, and slight agitation. In the world news a case of mass killing was reported in Kenya. Kenya officials are not sure if this was a terrorist attack or a random killing by an unknown religious cult. The attackers were described as being excessively aggre...”

The screen went black, with a small flash and a quiet click, as Jerry turned it off. “Alright Edward, time to get ready. Go get dressed,” he said, jabbing a thumb in the direction of his son's room. Pouring that wonderful, dark, wake-me-up liquid – coffee – into a thermal cup for the drive. He set it on the counter and packed up Marian's bag of diapers and food for her trip to the daycare. “Edward, time to go!” Jerry called. When only silence answered him, he quickly headed around the corner toward his son's room. “Edward, you ready?”

Knocking on the door that had been labeled 'Captain Edward's Battleship' made from construction paper and pipe-cleaners. On the other side of the door was the disaster zone of toys and clothes that had been discarded on the floor instead of back into the toy chest or hamper where they belonged. Posters of military battleships and naval submarines decorated the rich blue colored walls giving the feeling of being in the sea. “Edward?” Jerry peeked his head in looking around the dark room for his son who, at the moment, had disappeared. The drapes by the window fluttered barely moving as if something had brushed them. Jerry slowly walked toward the window, his dress shoes avoiding the toys that jutted up like obstacles attempting to hamper his progress across the room. Reaching his hand out to the curtain and pulling it back ever so gently before something from the closet suddenly burst out and grabbed hold of Jerry's leg tightly letting out a scream. Jerry jumped in shock as he looked down to his son that hugged his leg and smiled up at him. Feeling his heart racing he shook his head and patted Edward on the head. “You got me, Edward. Now go get your backpack. We need to get going.”

Jerry realized, as Edward ran out of the room, that his son had put his shirt on backwards. Shaking his head he didn't bother correcting him as his son's answer was always, “I know.” Buckling Edward into his booster seat and Marian into her car seat, Jerry got into his black BMW for the fifteen minute drive to work. A few spats of heavy traffic at the few intersections slowed the family down; but it was normal for seven thirty in the morning. Edward would point out the window and call out when they passed the ice cream store that everyday he would beg for Jerry to stop and get one for him. Marian stared out the other window and would laugh periodically at the cars that would drive by her view. Jerry loved her simple nature. How she would stare out the window to the wondrous world outside and find it new and exciting.

The daycare and preschool was a warm and kid friendly place. If the Crayon picket fence wasn't enough to tell you that, then Jerry didn't know what would. Edward would run off to his friends to join the preschoolers in the larger wing of the two story building. Edward was already learning how to count and read and was the top of his class. Marian would be handed off to her favorite day care worker, Sharon, an older woman with a gift of bring a smile to any child's face. Marian waved her hands around in excitement as she leaned toward Sharon to begin her day of fun. Jerry smiled knowing that Marian's reaction would be the same for him once he came to pick her up after work. “I thought that you had Fridays off, Sharon,” Jerry said.

“Normally I do,” Sharon responded. “But Beth is home sick with the flu and they needed the help.” Jerry nodded as he waved to Marian and stepped back into his car. Reaching for his mug, he found only air and realized that in his hurry to get everyone out the door his early morning coffee, his wake-up fuel as Katherine called it, now stood alone on his kitchen counter. Looking at his silver watch he shook his head knowing there was no time to go back and retrieve it.

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A quick five minute drive down the road he passed a man that seemed to be stumbling down the sidewalk. Dressed in a sleeveless shirt and a pair rather short shorts, like you would see with one of those marathon runners, his running shoes drug along the concrete, almost like the man were trying to pull himself through muck that held tight to his feet before suddenly releasing its slimy grip. It's Friday, Jerry thought, I guess some people are getting a head start on the weekend.

His work building was something that most advertisement companies would find to be rather small – only two stories with maybe fifty offices on either floor – but who is going to complain about a brand new building. New air conditioning that would remain quiet and not have a bad rattling noise like the ducts in Jerry's old office, or smell like chemicals from insecticide. Better than the air conditioning, was the executive parking. In an ad agency the earlier you were, the more you were noticed; therefore, the more promotions you got. At this building he got a space up front with his name on it because he was the man in charge, unlike before where it was almost like World War II to get a park spot before the next guy trying to impress the...

BAM!!!

Jerry slammed on the breaks as something hit his car, or he hit something. Stepping out of the car, the little chip in the dash telling the car to repeat that annoying dinging sound, and sees the outstretched arm of a man resting on the fresh black asphalt. Covering his mouth and feeling his stomach starting to flip. “Holy shit,” a man said rushing over. “That guy just ran right out in front of your car without a moment's hesitation.”

Jerry recognized the man that was commenting on the events that had brought them to this place, standing in front of Jerry's space where a man's unmoving body now lay on the burning asphalt in the hot sun, but he couldn't remember his name. Starts with an 'S'. Was it Sam? Sean?

“I took a CPR class last year just stand back,” the guy said grabbing the apparently dead man's arms and dragging him out a little from the front of the now dented BMW.

“I should call an ambulance,” Jerry said absently, as he watched CPR guy, having no better name to give him at the moment from forgetting the guy's name, start giving breaths to the unconscious man with a slight billowing of their cheeks. Still standing there and watching helplessly as a small crowd gathered and CPR guy started chest compressions making the unconscious man's head flop back and forth with the brute force of the pressing. Taking a pause from the compression there was the faintest of rasping squeaks that came from the unconscious man's mouth. CPR guy leaned down with one ear at the man's mouth trying to see if his three hour training class had actually paid off or if it was just another waist of money.

The unconscious man's eyes fluttered open slightly and had a small shake of his head. CPR guy raised his head up a little smiling to Jerry, reminding him of one of those dogs that wants to know he did good after bringing back the tennis ball. “I think he's gonna make iUURGGKK!” The once unconscious man pulled himself up with one arm around CPR guy's neck and his teeth bit down on the man's throat releasing a fountain of red mist into the air from his jugular. Even after the first bite, the man continued to bite and tear off flaps of skin and muscle from CPR guy's throat covering his face in sticky blood that bubbled out of the revealed airway of CPR guy.

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The once closely gathered crowd suddenly backed away and took off for their cars to try to get away from the maniac that seemed happily content with chowing down on CPR guy. Jerry, leaving his running car and dinging warning from the open door in the middle of the parking lot, ran inside and rushed up the stairs to the top floor where his executive office awaited him. Rushing passed his secretary and threw open the double doors to his office he paused trying to get his breath. Cherry wood desk dominated the center of the office with matching bookcases on the wall to the right that housed a television, just in case the always busy executive needed a break from his hard work. The window behind his desk was open and let in that comforting breeze that flicked the papers on the desk. Violently trembling, Jerry walked to his desk and picked up the phone and punched the numbers on the flat touch screen. The more rational part of his brain was worried about cracking the screen. An unearthly yowl came from beyond his open office door, prompting Jerry to drop the phone from his ear.

In the doorway, rather disheveled with her hair not pulled back in its skull tight bun and snug-fitted red suit not fully buttoned and missing a sleeve, was Jerry's secretary, Ms. Palmer. “Ms. Palmer quick come inside,” Jerry said, waving her in. “I don't know what's going on, but there's a crazy person down there that's eating people. Make sure you lock the door.” Jerry reached down and picked up the phone. His eye briefly fluttering up Ms. Palmer's freshly shaven legs. He had hired her because she was a person that took her professional appearance very seriously; but now, her walk seemed rather sluggish and nothing like her normal 'look at me' saunter. Jerry noticed that despite her flawlessly shaved legs that her foot was actually sitting crooked when she put her weight on it, revealing the bones to have snapped in two. “Ms. Palmer?” Jerry asked, seeing the dull, yet hungry, gaze that his secretary currently had fixated on him.

Ms. Palmer's jaw dropped and opened her mouth in an unnatural fashion, like a snake unhinging its jaw to consume its meal, and released a terrifying, unearthly yowl that made Jerry's bones shiver in fear. Despite having a broken foot, Ms. Palmer lunged forward all the while screaming that abyssal yowl. Jerry, in a panic, stepped back and tripped over his office chair just as Ms. Palmer vaulted over the desk and right out the window. Her terrifying yowl slowly faded until it abruptly cut off and there was nothing. Visibly shaken, Jerry pulled himself up to his knees and slowly looked out the window, as if he would see Ms. Palmer hanging on by her long, red, claw-like fingernails and he would suddenly end up like CPR guy. In a pool of his own blood.

Ms. Palmer's body lay crumpled on the sidewalk. Her body not moving and her red suit still snugly fitted around her waist and hips. Jerry was glad that he couldn't see any closer as the very mental image was already making him nauseous. In fact, the next thing he saw was breakfast of eggs and bacon with bile being violently vomited into his brushed chrome trashcan.

Rushing in from the hall came a slightly fatter man, that for some reason Jerry immediately knew as Richard, and slammed the door closed. Huffing and puffing from his dash down the hall, his white pin striped shirt was drenched with sweat. The beaded flecks of water on his brow he wiped off with his blue and gray tie. “I don't know what the fuck is going on; but, people are killing each other out there!” Richard said. As if to bring emphasis to what he was saying, something on the other side of the door banged against it shaking Richard.

“Help me barricade it!” Jerry yelled, pushing on his cherry red desk. The two of them drove the heavy piece of furniture against the wooden door sealing it from any intruder. “What the hell is going on?” Jerry asked rhetorically.

“Maybe there's something on the TV about it,” Richard suggested still puffing from exertion.

Rifling through the drawers of the desk, Jerry grabbed the black remote and pressed the on button bringing the dark television to life. There was no need for any channel surfing as the emergency broadcast had already taken over the stations. “We are getting reports of mass hysteria and murder taking place in just about every major city in the U.S.” the reporter said. The outlook behind the reporter wasn't good as people ran in terror of something that was never really seen and fires burned freely in houses and cars. The reporter himself would keep looking about in a slight panic. “At this time the emergency contact numbers have been flooded with calls, the National Guard has been dispatched to help support local law enforcement; but, it's strongly suggested that everyone remain indoors and... AHH! OH MY GOD! HELP!” The reporter was attacked by what seemed to be the runner that Jerry passed only a little while ago. The camera fell over showing that the reporter had been out on his own with just a tripod camera to record his broadcast. The reporter's screams filled the room as his legs were seen kicking just on screen.

“Fuck that!” Richard said in response to the reporter's suggestion.

“You said it. Let's get the hell out of here,” Jerry said, looking out his window. His BMW sat right in front of the main entrance like a steed waiting for its knight to return so that they might ride off into the sunset. The silent rumble of the engine made the car shake gently. “My car is just out there. I think we can get to it. The stairs head right to the front.” Richard nodded quickly making his set of double chins jiggle sporadically. Pulling the desk away from the door, Jerry slowly peeked out into the hall. Papers, with drawings and client information, were scattered around the carpeted floor of the narrow corridor. Jerry went first, his eyes darting about the darkened hall to catch a glimpse of the unseen predator in the shadows. The pair rushed to the stairwell and charged straight through the door. Down the stairs in a hurried sprint that nearly sent Richard down the steps head first.

Jerry slowly pushed the door open to the lobby. The tiled front that spanned from the shattered glass double doors to the stone receptionist desk was covered with pools and smears of blood that lead deeper into the building or out toward the parking lot. Stepping out with great hesitation the pair made their way to the edge of the door way. Jerry paused hearing something over in the darkened hallway. His eyes adjust to the strange twilight that the lack of light had created within the lobby. In the darkest corner, a group of people sat huddled together and covered in blood. A woman lay on the ground her head having fallen back so that she stared at Jerry and Richard with wide, pain filled eyes. The huddled crowd currently were pulling out different organs from her torn open stomach, like they were a third grade science class having dissected a frog. She raised her hand weakly to them and opened her mouth to cry for help; but, only a gurgling whisper came from her throat. He gave her an apologetic glance before slipping out the front door doing his best not to draw attention to himself as he stepped on the shattered glass fragments.

Jerry quickly jumped into the driver's seat of the BMW and slammed the door. He pressed the button to unlock the car doors for Richard to make it in as the fat little man rushed around the car's front bumper. Just as he got to the door he was suddenly drug down and Jerry could hear his screams of fear and pain as well as Richard banging on the side of the car. A blood hand rose up, grabbing at the smooth glass window and left behind a streaked bloody hand print. Throwing the car into drive Jerry peeled out of the parking lot and drove out onto the street. Leaving behind the carnage that was happening in his former place of business.

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Swerving out onto the near clear road he quickly pulled out his cell phone and hit the speed dial for Katherine. His wife and kids were the only things on his mind now and he had to get to them before something bad happened. “All lines are busy. If you would like to leave a message, press one.” the automated voice said through the small speaker.

“Damn it! Come on!” Jerry said hanging up and dialing again. He yelled in frustration as the same message was played. Jamming his thumb down on the one he quickly began to speak into the phone. “Katherine! I don't know what's going on, but everything fucking went to hell in a hand basket. I'm on my way to get Edward and Marian. I'll be there as soon as I can. Barricade yourself into a room or something and don't let anyone in that seems like they're out of their minds.” He looked up narrowly avoiding a rolling truck that was consumed in fire. The once busy street was now cluttered with debris and abandoned cars. People run in fear of the slow moving groups that would set upon anyone that they managed to get their hands on. The once peaceful drive had turned into something right out of a Freddie Kruger nightmare. Looters taking advantage of any unmanned stores and robbing them blind of TV's, DVD players, and cash. Mayhem only began to describe what the city of Phoenix was turning into.

The approach to the daycare was anything, but graceful. Crashing into the brightly colored crayon fence that went around the perimeter of the yard, Jerry skidded to a halt by the front door of the preschool. The windows were dark and there wasn't anything moving inside. Jerry rushed the door and, for a moment, it seemed that he might rip the door from the hinges as he fell through.

Running down the hall like a mad man he would glance into each school room in the hopes of seeing a large crowd of kids huddled together in the back of the room with two or three teachers trying to keep them calm; but, the further in he went the worse it got. Classroom brightly colored with posters of numbers or letters to teach the students math and reading and blood smeared on the floors and walls. “Edward!” he would cry, praying that he would hear his son calling back to him or that he would see him running down the hall. Room after room he checked and each one just a bigger and bigger pool of blood. There were no bodies. Nothing left of the eight hundred preschoolers that should have been there; or the hundred and fifty staff members that were there to watch over them. Every room and closet opened and every one of them empty. Even the gym, which was supposed to be the gathering place for all the students, was empty. Sprinting down the long corridor that connected the preschool to the daycare, Jerry crashed through the door and swept his eyes over the toy-filled room. “Marian! Edward!”

As soon as he stepped into the room, Jerry wished that he hadn't. The once cheerful room, decorated in bright colors and cartoon-ish characters, was more like a slaughter house that you might find in a butcher shop or a horror movie. Blood was splattered over the walls, floors, and ceilings. Bits of bodies were strewn about like crumbs left after eating pie with a flaky crust. Jerry looked about in shock. The sheer brutality of it. Tears welled up in his eyes and he fell to his knees, soaking his slacks in blood. “Marian. Edward,” he whispered their names in grief, knowing there was no way they survived. “I'm sorry.” He doubled over as the emotions took a very physical pain in his body.

A clicking noise made Jerry look up from his pool of grief. A man stumbled in dressed in an overall suit with a smiling bright yellow sun embroidered on the left side of his chest just under the word 'Janitor.' Blood covered the Janitor's face, like a messy eater, the entire front of his overalls like he had been bathing in his kills, and he was currently looking around while smashing his teeth together to make an audible clicking noise. Jerry remained completely still, praying that he would go unnoticed. When the world has become hell, God isn't listening, a voice in his head stated, and like a dinner bell had been rung, the Janitor stopped and turned toward Jerry. The Janitor crashed through the small, child-size chairs in a B-line for Jerry. Slipping on the slick floor, Jerry felt the sticky liquid soak through his shirt and paint his back in crimson.

The Janitor wasted no time in taking advantage of Jerry's prone state. He leaped onto Jerry his teeth biting at the open air with a soft clicking sound. A pungent smell emanated from the Janitor's mouth as he breathed out a raspy gust of air into Jerry's face. The only thing that was holding this maniac back from feasting on Jerry's neck was Jerry's forearm placed squarely under the Janitor's jaw and chomping teeth. Grasping for anything that he could use as a weapon, Jerry found a toy phone, one of the ones that the happy little face on the front and the eyes would move when you rolled it across the floor, and smashed it against the side of the Janitor's head. The Janitor fell to the side and seemed to have trouble getting up on his jello like legs. Jerry quickly got to his feet and picked up one of the many scattered children's chairs and brandished it like a make shift club. That voice in the back of head, that Jerry quickly found to be his survival instinct given auditory form, screamed at him, That's the bastard that killed your kids! Don't let him leave here alive! Letting out a scream of rage, that sounded unnervingly like the shrieks that he had been hearing these mad men had been yelling at him, Jerry charged forward swinging the small chair like it was a Louisville Slugger. One of the metal feet pierced through the cheek of the Janitor; but his hands still stretched out grasping at him. Pulling the chair free, along with a line of blood and spit that flicked across the floor and wall. Jerry swung again, this time catching his attacker right through the temple. The foot of the metal leg cracking the bone beneath the surface of the skin. The Janitor stumbled and dropped down to his hands and knees. Jerry stood over him and began to rain blow after blow of the chair down onto the Janitor's head and back splattering blood and brains on the floor and himself.

Dropping the chair by his now unmoving assailant, Jerry took a moment longer to look around the decimated daycare before leaving to his waiting car. Pulling the door closed he holds in a sob trying his best to keep his composure while calling his wife once more. “All lines are busy. If you would like to leave a message, press one.”

“Katherine,” Jerry said, his voice threatening to break. “I'm... uh... I'm on my way to you now. I... The kids... they didn't make it. I'm coming for you now. Just... please... please stay alive.” He hung up the phone and wiped the tears from his face and focused on getting to St. Luke's Medical Center. A few other cars were driving down the roads now in a mad dash to find safety from the crazies. A pick-up truck swerved this way and that trying to shake loose the unwanted passengers that were beating on the windows and roof of the cab. “Christ. It just gets worse the further in you go.” The military barricades that had been put up to try to funnel the traffic out of the city slowly lessened. Near the edges soldiers fired at crazies that were trying to jump the barrier; but, soon what used to be a barricade on every street became every other street, then every third. Pretty soon there were no barricades at all. Blood covered the ground and vehicles meant to protect against the crazies. Bodies littered the ground of those that had been torn to shreds and eaten.

Slowly stopping at a pile up of cars he chewed his lip trying to think of a way around that wouldn't take another twenty minutes to get to the hospital. A woman ran up slamming full force into the driver side door. She left behind a bloodied smear before stepping back to get ready for another charge. Jerry looked around seeing that the crazies were coming for him and quickly flicked up his middle finger before slamming the gas down as far as it would go. He mounted the curb driving through several of the slowly moving crazies that attempted to stop him from getting away. Jerry turned the wheel hard to avoid a small car that had rammed into the brick building in front of him. The man inside fighting desperately to keep the woman in the passenger seat off of him and undo his seat belt. Jerry didn't stop to see if the man was successful or not in his escape. Jerry's mind was just focused on getting to his wife. “Almost there,” Jerry said to himself, holding onto the wheel as the force of the turn threatened to launch him into the passenger side of the car.

His heart leaped into his throat as he saw a burning garbage truck rolling free by itself down the road toward him. Gritting his teeth he turned into the glass front of a large mall. The black paint getting scraped and chipped from the shards of glass that rained down on the BMW. Of course, Jerry hadn't thought about the kiosks that dominated the middle of the wide lane. Bracing himself, he drove through hair supplies, cell phones, food, and displays of every kind of piercing you could think of. To his relief, his tires didn't explode and the next door was just up ahead. Jerry turned on the cleaners and wipers to try and wash off the frosting that had been smeared over the windshield. Crashing through the next set of glass doors revealed an almost empty parking lot. Driving like a mad man he headed straight for the street.

The next turn made Jerry slam both feet onto the brake, making the car skid in a brilliant display of smoke and burnt rubber. A massive mob of crazies stood there almost like they were expecting him to arrive. Jerry stared them down from the somewhat safe distance that he had between him and them. When the first crazy came at him, Jerry wasn't sure what to do. The road that they were blocking was the fastest route to St. Luke's Medical Center. He could even see it's large building just around the bend. The crowd thinned out and gathered speed as they charged Jerry.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself Jerry stomped on the pedal, pinning it to the floor. The BMW's engine revved and let out a high pitch hum as the tire squealed trying to get traction on the asphalt that was slick with blood. Speeding toward the mob he barreled into several of the crazies that were clawing at his car, sending them over his hood and roof. A woman running right at the BMW launched over the hood after being hit and her head was driven right through the windshield. Her hand and bloody stump clawed at the glass trying to push through to grab hold of Jerry. Her red hair swinging this way and that as she chomped her teeth at him to get just a mouthful of his flesh. Jerry swerved back and forth trying to dislodge the woman in his window. Making the last turn to the straight shot to the medical center the woman was flung from the car, half of her face being filleted by the glass collar that was forcefully pulled over her head. A large section of her scalp flopped onto the dash board while the rest of her spun through the air and her body snapped in half around a lamp post. Jerry didn't stop to see if she was going to get back up. All that mattered was getting to the medical center in time.

The parking lot was crowded with cars that had arrived for people to be treated. Several had been overturned from ramming into other parked cars. Several of the cars had crashed into the front of the medical center making entry through the front out of the question. The cars were still burning like a raging inferno turning the white stucco walls black from smoke. Driving around to the back of the hospital to the emergency exit, there were ambulances that sat with their rear doors hanging open. The lights of the ambulance flashed with red and blue, light scanning search lights trying to find anyone that might be injured. Pulling out his cell phone once again he pressed redial, praying for a miracle. The phone began to ring. Finally, a line, Jerry said to himself.

“Hello?” a quiet voice said.

“Katherine? Thank God. Are you okay?”

“I'm fine. I locked myself in one of the patient rooms. I can't get out. There's someone out there killing people.”

“It isn't just one. There are a bunch of them. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole damn city wasn't filled with them by now. I'm coming to get you. Just wait for me and I'll be there. I don't know if I'm going to get another line to contact you. I love you.”

“I love you too. Are the kids okay?”

Jerry felt a lump in his throat that kept him from answering right away. “The kids are safe. Right now you need to focus on staying alive. Where are you?”

“I'm on the eighth floor. Room 813. Please hurry.” He hung up the phone and tossed it in the passenger seat. Now that he had a chance to calm down he didn't want to have it go off and attract the crazies. Stepping out of the car in very slow movements, so that he didn't announce himself to anything that might be in the area. He walked around to the back of his car and opened the trunk. Reaching inside he pulled out the small tire iron, that he had used to fix a flat with a few months ago, to defend himself with. For some reason there were significantly less cars as the emergency exit than there were at the front. He was left with his white undershirt after pulling off his tie and collared shirt, that were splattered with blood. Wielding the tire iron in one hand, he snuck up to the main doors. The glass and aluminum doors would close and hit a gurney that was stuck between the two before opening again for a few seconds and trying again to close. The gurney itself was covered in blood from the body of a man strapped down to it. Blood covered his clothes and face and a large amount of his intestines had been pulled out and hung from the side of the gurney dripping blood onto the cement. When the doors opened again, Jerry tried to sneak into the building. The darkness of the hospital made the already eerie corridors seem all the more sinister. The darkened shadows might hold anything within their hidden corners.

The man on the gurney suddenly sprung to life growling and chomping his teeth a Jerry. The man struggled and thrashed to break free of the straps that held him down. Jerry let out a yelp and stumbled away from the man that tried to break free of his restraints. The corridors were dark, but the emergency signs, spelling out 'EXIT,' basked the halls in green light. He took deep breaths fearing that his own heartbeat might alert the crazies to where he was with how loud it was pounding in his ears.

Walking to the elevators he pressed the button and waited for the sound of the machine inside the wall to register that he had pressed it. Of course, that never happened. The power was out and the hospital generators would go toward more important things, like life support. “Stairs it is,” Jerry said to himself softly, more to calm his nerves and hear a voice than anything else. He moved down the hall trying to will his eyes into having night vision so that he could see in the dark. An unearthly wail echoed down the hall and Jerry pressed himself into the doorway of a locked utility closet. Clutching the tire iron in both hands he slowly peeked around the corner. The end of the hallway was dark and the only sound was the beating of his own heart in his ears and his hushed breathing.

Across from him sat one of the black boards with arrows pointing in different directions, so that others would know where different rooms were. One in particular caught his attention right away. “Cafeteria,” he whispered.

They have knives in the cafeteria. Those would do a whole lot more than a little tire iron, the voice in Jerry's head said. Looking both directions to make sure that the crazies weren't waiting for him to step out into the open before leaping on their next easy meal. Jerry plastered himself up against the off-white walls when the florescent lights above him suddenly flickered to life before going dark once again. For the brief moment the light had been on, it had illuminated a picture of a doctor smiling warmly at the person that would be standing there. Jerry's heart wouldn't slow down as he was sure that he was done for when he saw that face staring at him.

_______________________________________________________________________

The cafeteria was probably worse than the corridors of the hospital. The random flicker of light blinded Jerry for a moment before everything went dark and only the glow of the exit sign would reveal the distraught array of tables and chairs that lay scattered about the linoleum covered dining hall. No crazies in sight for the moment, which was not much of a relief since that only meant that they were lurking somewhere else. Swallowing, he began his short journey from the cafeteria entrance to the kitchen. Pushing on the brushed stainless steel door, that swung open without even the smallest of sounds, opened the way to the oven and stove filled room that would cook every meal for the patients in attendance for the hospital.

Surprisingly, this room was impeccably clean compared to the other rooms and corridors that Jerry had been in. When he walked around the corner that was a different story though. Jerry covered his mouth as he felt the dry heaves starting to bring up the little breakfast that he had eaten that morning. The sound that came out of his mouth sounded similar to the noise someone would hear late at night when a cat is coughing up a fur-ball. One of the volunteer cooks was lying outstretched on the floor, resting in a pool of her own blood. Her dull, lifeless eyes stared up at the tiled ceiling and her mouth was opened only slightly like you might see on an episode of Law and Order or another murder case show. However, that wasn't the worst of it. The fact that she had been torn completely in half, her torso lying on the floor while her legs and waist sat on one of the stainless steel counters, and her intestines strung between the two like by some miracle she would pull herself back together.

Jerry quickly turned away trying to get a hold of his dry heaving. He set the tire iron on the steel counter with a small clatter as he swallowed again and again trying to get rid of the acidic taste in his mouth. A low groan silenced the heaves. Jerry quickly picked up the tire iron and slowly stepped around the counter space. A man dressed in another cooks uniform stood at the far end of the kitchen and seemed to stare off into nothing. Slowly stepping forward, Jerry held a tight grip on his bludgeoning weapon. He wet his lips not sure if he would be able to swing on the man. His leg brushed against a small pot resting on the bottom rack of the shelves below the counter. The pot fell the short three inches to the to the floor and clattered about like it was its own one man band.

The cook's head lifted up and slowly turned to the sound that had droned off into silence. Jerry cursed under his breath and all hesitation disappeared when he heard that unearthly yowl once again. The man's jaw stretched open like Ms. Palmer's had when seeing him, like a snake unhinging its jaw to eat. The cook charged and Jerry shoved the iron bar sideways into his mouth. “Try to bite me with no teeth, fucker,” Jerry grunted, as he planted his foot in the cook's chest and shoved him away. The cook's teeth were ripped from his jaw and rattled on the floor like beads from a broken necklace. The cook stumbled back, not even trying to keep himself on his feet, and crashed to the linoleum floor. Jerry ran forward releasing a screech, a lot like the one that the crazies had been using, before driving the flattened end through the cook's skull. Panting and stepping back, Jerry looked out into the dining room to see if the noise had attracted anyone or anything else. Looking down to the now motionless cook, Jerry couldn't help but wonder if, at one time, the man had actually been pleasant to talk to. He seemed to have one of those friendly faces, despite the now offset eyes and toothless mouth. A face that someone might look forward to seeing every day. The lines around his cheeks hinted that he may have had a good sense of humor.

The tire iron stuck out of the man's forehead like he was some unicorn with a bent horn. Not sure that he was going to find a knife in the dull silver kitchen. Grasping the iron hook, Jerry attempted to free the tire iron from the man's head; but, was forced to stop when pulling on the iron bar made a soft suction noise with every pull. His stomach would threaten to start going into dry heaves again. Rifling through the many drawers in the kitchen he was dismayed at the lack of cutlery. Ripping open the dishwasher he was rewarded with three chef knives. The blade on each knife was eight inches long and stamped with the label stainless steel. “Let's just hope I don't have to test that statement,” Jerry said to himself again. He shoved one of the knives into his belt by his hip and kept the other two in his hands. He smiled at his luck when he found a roll of electrical tape and a wooden push broom in a utility closet. Jerry quickly made himself a log distance weapon by unscrewing the broom handle and taping two of the knives to one end giving it a two-pronged look. “Eat your heart out Bear Grylls,” Jerry chuckled. “You couldn't make a better weapon than this if you tried.”

With his make-shift spear pointing out ahead of him, Jerry looked like a hunter ready for the kill. Stepping out into the dining area, with much more confidence now that he had a weapon, Jerry began the search for the stairs. It seemed that he wasn't the only one that thought of taking them though. A bloody hand print was left on the small window in the door by some frightened person just trying to make it out of the nightmare. Jerry pushed on the door only to find that it was blocked by something on the other side. Using the window he looked down at the base of the door and could see the mangled and bloodied body of an old woman sitting against the door. It had probably been her hand print left on the door. Bracing himself against the door, Jerry slowly began to push the door open. With one eye on the stairs and the other on the woman that now lay prostrate on the floor, Jerry stepped into the darkened stairwell. If the corridors had become sinister in the darkness, then the stairwell had become down right terrifying. Soft green light would point out where the door to the next floor was; but every step between one floor and another was filled with a thick, almost unnatural darkness.

With the front of his spear facing in front of him, and a small prayer to God, Jerry placed his foot on the first step and started to climb. He wasn't sure if the lack of noise was something to be grateful for or frightened of. A hospital in normal situations would be filled with pages to doctors, phones ringing off the hook, doctors talking to patients, patients screaming at doctors, and somewhere down a distant hall the sound of a floor buffer.

The painted number eight on the wall, and the severe burning sensation in his legs, told Jerry that he had arrived at the eighth floor. The chaos was greatly lessened this high up in the building. Gurneys and tall stands for fluid bags populated the hall in front of the exit. Walking out he crossed the hall and looked over the board giving directions to the different room numbers. Traveling to the left where the arrow pointed, Jerry would pause by every corner and peak around to see if one of the crazies was lurking around the bend. To his relief he had yet to come across one. A banging announced the presence of someone else in the area. “Come on pretty. I know you're in there. Come on out and play,” a man said, before banging on a door again. “I've been away for so long I'm not even sure what a woman feels like.” Peeking around the corner, Jerry could see a middle age man beating on a door with a fire extinguisher. He was dressed in an orange jumpsuit and a broken set of handcuffs hung from his wrist. “Open the fucking door, bitch!” Counting down the doors Jerry was horrified to realize that the criminal was trying to break down the door to room 813. “Just because I'm a rapist doesn't mean I don't know how to make you feel good! All those other bitches were loving it when I made them moan!”

Jerry saw red as he watched the man try to break through the solid wood door and violate his wife. “Hey, Asshole!” Jerry yelled, stepping out into the hall.

The criminal turned seeing Jerry and gave him a wide grin. “You ain't exactly my type; but, beggars can't be choosers.” The criminal pulled out a shiv, made from a piece of broken mirror, and rushed at Jerry. The criminal didn't even slow down when Jerry lifted the spear and shoved right through the chest of that orange jumpsuit. Not expecting the amount of force that there was, Jerry stumbled back and vaulted the criminal over his head. The criminal stared at him for a moment still trying to kill Jerry before he died, a trickle of blood dripping from his mouth. A scream from one of the crazies echoed down the hall once again; but, this one was close. Jerry scrambled to his feet and tried to pull his make-shift spear out of the criminal's chest. The blades, however, had gotten lodged in the criminal's ribcage and Jerry only succeeded in making the criminal's head jerk around like it was a broken yo-yo. Looking up Jerry saw the old woman from down the stairs stumbling toward him, her organs barely hanging by the tubes that connected them to the other organs. Behind her was a doctor with one arm completely torn off, and a janitor dragging a mop behind him like he were still trying to clean.

Abandoning the spear Jerry ran to the door and started pounding on it with his palm. “Katherine! Katherine open the door! Open the door!” The bolt slid out from its locked place and the door swung open. Katherine stood there with wide, frightened eyes. Jerry rushed in and slammed the door closed. Throwing the deadbolt back in place the sound of a body crashed against the thick wood. Jerry pulled Katherine to him and held on tight.

“Jerry,” Katherine said quietly, “what's happening?”

“I don't know,” Jerry replied, taking Katherine's face in his hands. “But we're going to make it through this. I promise. Is there another way out of here?”

“The door is the only way in or out.”

“What about the fire escape?” Jerry rushed to the window and pushed it open. The wind blew over Jerry carrying with it a burning smell from the city on fire. Entire buildings were engulfed in flames and black smoke so thick that it made the morning seem like it was evening. Looking to the left he could see the fire escape about thirty feet away; but, the only way to it was a narrow ledge that ran right to it from the window. “We can make it.”

“Jerry what if we fall? What'll happen to Edward and Marian?”

“If we stay here then there won't be any chance for them. It's our only shot.” Stepping out onto the narrow ledge, Jerry pressed himself up against the wall as much as he could. The voice in head screaming, Don't look down! Don't look down! Didn't keep his mind from imagining the drop behind him. Scooting his feet one after the other in an awkward shuffle. Turning back to the open window, Katherine had one foot on the ledge and leaned out to see the car littered parking lot below. “No. You look at me. Keep your eyes on me.” Jerry held out his hand to her. She grasped it so tight that Jerry was worried that his fingers might break. The wind beat harshly against the couple on the narrow ledge, grasping anything that they could use for leverage from plummeting to the asphalt below. If the day hadn't made a turn for the worse, Jerry might have commented on how clean the outside of the windows looked.

One room over and another to go. The movement from inside of the dark room made Jerry look at the crazy man that ran head long into the window. Jerry jumped as the crazy hit the pane of glass and bounced off into the darkness of the room. A series of cracks appeared where the man's skull hit the glass. Rushing passed before the crazy could get up for another charge they made it to the fire escape. Jerry went over first and then helped his wife over the black metal. Rushing down the metal stairs, there were a few times when Jerry nearly dove head first down the steep steps. The ladder was all the way down to the asphalt, meaning that it wasn't just them that had come up with the idea. “The car is just over there,” Jerry said pointing to the scratched and dented to hell BMW.

“We can run for it. They're slow from what I've seen. Did you leave the doors unlocked?”

Jerry hadn't even thought about it. He wasn't sure if he had or not. If they were being chased, and the doors were locked then that would mean trouble for both of them. Fishing the keys out of his pocket he aimed the little remote at the car praying that it worked. The lights flashed for a moment as a signal that the doors were now open and waiting for them to enter. Jerry went first climbing down the ladder and waited at the bottom for his wife. The kitchen knife in hand he kept the building against his back. They can't sneak up on you from through the wall, the voice in his head told him. Katherine dropped down to the ground, and they ran, hand in hand, to the car. Jerry jumped and slid over the hood of the car, like he had seen in all of those cop shows he used to watch. Katherine slid into the passenger seat and quickly locked the door keeping an eye out for the crazies.

Jerry jumped into the driver seat, slammed the key into the ignition, and quickly drove off. Katherine sighed in relief before turning to the back seat. “Jerry,” she said quietly in horror, “Where are the kids?” Jerry remained silent and focused on the road ahead of him. “Jerry?” Katherine's voice had elevated as the panic started to set in. Jerry blinked through the tears that were now rolling down his face. He couldn't say it. He would break down if he said it; but, he didn't need to. Katherine knew. Seeing the tears running down Jerry's face she knew that their children wouldn't be joining them. Katherine covered her mouth and doubled over in the seat. She sobbed trying to hold it in. Jerry beat his hand against the steering wheel turning it red.

“We have to get home and get supplies. Food, water, anything that we can use. We have to get out of the city,” Jerry said.

Katherine nodded and sat back up her eyes still glassy. She pulled her seat belt on and looked to Jerry. “Put your seat belt on,” she said. She would always remind him of it. He quickly reached over his shoulder and pulled the strap over his chest and buckled it in with a secure click. Before all of this it would have bugged him to have her always reminding him. Now, it was a brief reprieve of normalcy that distracted from the current reality. “Everything was fine this morning. Why did all of this happen?”

“I don't know; but, we'll figure a way through this.” Looking over to Katherine he caught something driving up behind them in the passenger side mirror. A large bus was just barreling through the cars that they were having to swerve around. “Looks like they had the same idea we did. Hang on, I'm gonna let them get in front of us so that we can follow them.” Putting a slight amount of pressure on the brake, Jerry slowed the car and let the bus catch up to them before pulling off into a shallow alcove. Looking to the bus as it passed, the couple were horrified to see that most of the passengers were attacking several others, to include the driver. The people banged on the windows for an escape and their silent screams gave notice to the hell inside. An old woman, one of those nice grandmother-types that people would imagine with a tray of cookies or a purse full of caramel candies, grabbed hold of the driver and pulled him from his seat. The wheel of the bus turned freely and sharply... toward the car. Jerry tried to swerve away from the rolling battering ram; but, it was too late. The bus caught the car and drove it straight into a pile of cars that had piled up into one another. The bus continued on, leaving the destroyed BMW behind. The front of the car crushed in like a tin can.

Jerry slowly raised his head from the large airbag that had protected him from head butting the steering wheel. Katherine groaned and held her head from the sudden impact. “Are you okay?” Jerry asked. Katherine nodded and unclipped her seat belt. “We aren't going anywhere in this now. We're gonna have to go on foot.” Jerry stepped out first, leaving the door open. Rushing around to his wife, while keeping an eye out for the crazies, he only half realized that he had pulled out the knife from his belt.

“Jerry, how are we gonna get through the city with those things everywhere?”

“Quietly.” Jerry took Katherine's hand and led her down the street to a nearby alley. After inspecting and seeing that there was no one there they rushed down it cutting across the block to the next street over. Jerry skidded to a halt when he saw a man bent over and eating sloppily at something in his hand. The black apron that the man wore revealed that he worked in the nearby restaurant. The back door still hanging open for anyone to see the spectacle. A small, furry body was sitting in front of the man, that grunted and slurped at the meal in front of him. It was probably some stray that would sit in the alley waiting for some scraps to get thrown his way.

Passing the knife to Katherine, Jerry picked up one of the many boards from the pallets left in the alley and held it like a baseball bat. Throwing everything he had into the first swing, he knocked the man down and proceeded to rain down blow after blow on his red haired head. When Jerry was satisfied that the man wasn't going to get back up he turned back to Katherine. Tossing the board away he stumbled back toward her. Katherine smiled before it changed to horror. Before she could scream, Jerry whirled about seeing another crazy right on him. She was a woman, who it was obvious had gotten some implants, leaping toward him and was poised to take a bite right out of Jerry's neck.

A gunshot rang out and a perfect hole appeared in the middle of the woman's forehead, rocking her head back. Jerry stood there trembling for a few moments more trying to figure out if he was dead or not. There wasn't any pain and there didn't seem to be a white light. Turning around, he saw his wife staring wide-eyed at an older black man holding a rifle and Jerry now in his sights. Two soldiers backed up the older man with a rifle pointed out toward the street and another had a shotgun pointed at Katherine. “You one of them?” the man said. Jerry quickly shook his head. “You either start talkin' or I'll blow your fucking head off.”

“We're not one of them,” Katherine said rushing to Jerry's side. The man grunted and lowered his rifle as the others did.

“Drop the knife ma'am,” the older man said. Katherine quickly obliged and held onto Jerry's arm. The older black man had that military look to him. Well muscled, short crew cut, a scowl that screamed, 'Just try it.' A vest of pouches that could hold anything. He was everything that you would imagine a soldier to be; but, none of that could be taken seriously with the black, 'got bullets?' t-shirt that he was wearing. The two men behind him were dressed in the classic military camouflage and belts that would be expected of a soldier. “I need you both to strip down.”

“What?” Jerry asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I need to know that neither of you are carrying any weapons or devices that might put us in harm's way. Now you two either strip or we fire.”

Jerry got ready to start arguing before Katherine patted his arm. Sighing the two of them stripped down. Jerry was uncomfortable with the fact he was being checked intently for anything that might be a weapon. He could only imagine the way that Katherine felt with her face turning bright red and attempting to cover herself with her arms. “They're clean,” one soldier said tossing back their clothes. They hastily got redressed and looked between the three of them.

“I'm sorry about that,” the older man said. “honestly I am; but, my friends and I don't know if this is a terrorist attack or what. We don't know who to trust or who's the enemy. My name's Roy. The man behind you is Jack and the one with the hurt leg is Max.”

“I'm Jerry. This is my wife Katherine,” Jerry said. “So the military doesn't know what's going on either?”

“I didn't say that. I was discharged from the military five years ago. I don't know what the hell's going on. All I know is that I'm shooting anything that I think is a crazy.”

“Will you take us with you?” Jerry asked.

“We're headed to the military base in Yuma. But it wouldn't be right to strand you guys out here on your own. Either of you know how to shoot?”

“Not really.”

“Then you best stay between us, with Max, until we can get back to the Humvee.” Roy headed to the opening to the street with Jack, each of them looking up and down the street for any signs of danger. Max hobbled up panting.

“You're bleeding! Bad,” Katherine said, kneeling down by Max's leg.

“He nearly got it blown off with a rogue grenade,” Jack said.

“We need to get this patched up before you bleed to death,” Katherine said, looking to Roy and Jack. “There's a clinic on the next block over. If I can get some gauze and some needle and thread I can keep him from bleeding out.”

Jack looked to Roy. “If he doesn't get help soon, we'll be dragging a corpse.”

Roy nodded. “Jack you go with Katherine and get the supplies. Bring her back here so that we can try to have Max loose as little blood as possible.”

“Whoa, wait,” Jerry said, “I'm not okay with splitting up from my wife.”

“Jerry, I need you here to keep pressure on the wound,” Katherine said. “If you don't it won't matter if we were to get the holy grail.”

“And I need to keep my hands free to take out any crazies that come around,” Roy added.

“Don't worry. I promise nothing will happen to her as long as I'm breathin',” Jack said. Jerry didn't like the idea; but he knew there wasn't any other way. Jack gave Katherine his pistol and Max did the same for Jerry. “Don't use it unless you have to,” Jack said. “The crazies are drawn to noise, and a gunshot is like the dinner bell for 'em.” Jerry used a towel, discarded on the ground, to put pressure on the wound. He applauded Max for keeping quiet despite the pain he must have been feeling. Jerry watched as Jack led Katherine through the wreckage and down another alley.

“Don't worry. Jack's a good soldier,” Roy said. “That boy has a streak of luck on him that the Irish wish they had.” Jerry chuckled feeling a little better about the situation.

_______________________________________________________________________

Jack stopped at the end of the alley. The back wall of the clinic facing them and the street empty of cars or people. Only a few pages from newspapers drifted about on the drafts of air that brushed down the lane. “You would think that there would be at least one or two of them,” Jack commented. The street was completely deserted and it unnerved Jack.

“I know I'm not a soldier,” Katherine whispered. “But if we don't hurry your friend isn't going to make it.”

“I know,” Jack said raising the barrel of his shotgun to point in front of him. “It just feels off. Keep your hand on my shoulder so I know where you are.” Katherine took a good grip of Jack's shirt and the two of them dashed across the open lane. Jack turned on the small flashlight attached to the barrel of his shotgun and looked through the open door of the clinic. He cautiously took step after step down the darkened hall, the florescent lights flickering. Katherine motioned to head through the door marked 'supply closet.' Inside was a rather large room with large carts full of drawers. Katherine began grabbing everything that she would need. “How much longer?”

“I just need to find some alcohol to disinfect it,” she said rifling through cabinets, tossing the stored contents on the tiled linoleum. “Got it. We can go.” She turns back to the door and the smile that was once on her face quickly vanished. Jack wasn't at the door where she had seen him just a moment ago. Holding the pistol in both hands she slowly made her way to the door. Leaning out she stared into the darkness, hearing her own heartbeat in her ears. A slight grunting was echoing down the hall from the shadows. She screamed seeing four men stabbing Jack again and again in a flash from the lights above. Katherine ran away from the group, into the unknown clinic, searching for an escape, with the group right on her tail jeering at her. Stumbling through the front doors of the clinic she turned around with the gun raised, hearing the thugs getting closer and she squeezed the trigger.

“It's been an hour. They're taking too long,” Roy said looking at his watch. “Something's wrong.”

“Do you think that they got cut off?” Jerry asked worried. “Are they gonna be able to get back to us?”

“I don't know, Jerry. But it doesn't matter. We're going to them.”

“We can't just leave him here. He won't last two minutes.”

Roy looked at Jerry with a sad expression. Walking over he knelt down by Max. “He's already gone.” Jerry looked at Max's face and despite never having seen a real dead body before, he knew that the blank expression on Max's face meant that he had passed on without a word. Roy closed Max's eyes and sat there for a few moments in silence. “Help me get his gear off.” Roy started to unbuckle the straps holding the pack to Max's lifeless body. Jerry helped with trembling hands to undo the clasps.

Leaving Max's body in the alley among the trash just seemed wrong; but, they didn't have time to find a place to bury him. Roy took the rifle and dropped the strap over his shoulder. Jerry took the harness and was surprised to feel how heavy it was. The Humvee was parked just around the corner from them. The metal panels painted military green were barely visible in the hazy smoke that drifted by. Jerry climbed into the passenger seat tossing the vest into the back, with a loud clatter. Roy started up the Humvee, letting out a roar as the engine rumbled to life. It took no time at all to get to the clinic. “Make sure the safety is off on that pistol. You don't want to try to fire it without the safety off,” Roy said, checking the magazine in his rifle. Pulling the flashlight off of the other rifle he handed it to Jerry. “You stay right behind me. No hero shit.”

The duo got out of the Humvee, heading to the clinic. The darkened windows took away from the once pleasant feeling the building would normally exude. Roy went in first checking room by room at the door. Small rooms decorated with small pictures of smiling kids and adults. Each empty room they passed made Jerry's heart move higher and higher in his throat. When he stumbled on something he lowered his light and the panic set in like a match to gunpowder. Jack's body lay on the prostrate on the ground, a pool of blood etched around his still form. “Katherine!” Jerry cried starting to run blindly down the hall.

Roy grabbed Jerry's shoulder and threw him up against the wall, pinning him there with a massive arm. “You don't just go running off blindly into a place you don't know. That's how people get killed. Now I need you to focus.” Letting Jerry down, he set his rifle against the wall, Roy quickly unclasped Jack's vest and picked up the discarded shotgun.

Jerry was surprised to see that the vest and shotgun were held out to him. “I... I don't know how to use it.”

“It's just like the movies. Slide it back. Slide it forward. Aim. Shoot. So easy a caveman could do it.” Jerry chuckled at the small joke before getting help into the vest. “Just remember to keep the butt of that shotgun tight into your shoulder. If you don't it'll kick you like a mule. Stay on my left and keep the muzzle pointed toward whatever might be coming at us.” Jerry nodded feeling a lot better now that he had a cannon for a weapon instead of a pea shooter. “Would she have run outside?”

“If she was being chased that would be the only place to go.” Jerry kept right next to Roy. The moving shadows and the general lack of bodies was unnerving. Each room they checked was completely void of anyone. Living or dead. “You'd think that this place would be packed with people.”

“This place isn't really set up for emergencies. Everyone would be flooding to the hospitals more than a clinic like this.” Stepping into the main lobby, there was still no sign of Katherine. That left only the idea that she was outside somewhere. Roy gave the word to head out after checking out the windows first and seeing the general lack of anyone, crazy or not. Roy stepped out the door and turned immediately to the right to check for any crazies. Jerry was right behind him and quickly turned left. The barrel of the shotgun pointed ahead of him; but, the gun dropped from its original mark. Roy whirled about and froze.

Jerry was slowly walking to the prostrate body, lying in the perfectly cut grass. Jerry sobbed as he looked down to his wife. Her clothes completely torn to shreds, the cloth strips fluttering about on the ground. Her smooth and perfect skin blemished by bruises and cuts. Fluids from who knew how many donors splattered on her skin and dripped out of her body. The fatal blow had been a long smooth cut along her neck. Jerry dropped to his knees letting the shotgun fall from his hands to the soft grass. He embraced his wife's, still slightly warm, body to him before letting out a pain-filled wail. He rocked back and forth, his wife's slender fingers brushing the grass beneath them.

Roy stood there with a sad gaze. He found himself wishing that there was something that he could say to make Jerry feel better; but, what can be said to a man that lost the most important thing in his life? Roy rested against the stucco wall, giving Katherine a moment of silence; but, a gentle rustling from behind him got Roy's attention. Looking over his shoulder he came face to face with one of the crazies. The woman let out an unearthly yowl as Roy tried to pull away. She was dressed in a skin tight dress that covered just above her augmented breasts to the beginning of her thigh. One foot bare, save for the panty-hose that she wore, the other still wobbling on a six inch stiletto heel. Like most soldiers, Roy could tell when it was all over. This was it. That mouth yawning so wide that he could see her tonsils. Then came the butt of the shotgun smashing into the crazies' face and making her head rock back like she had been punched by a heavy-weight right hook.

Jerry had gotten up and retrieved the shotgun at his feet before rushing to Roy's rescue. The truth was that Jerry didn't even know that Roy was there anymore. The rage inside of him spilled over and all that voice in his head was saying was, Kill, kill, kill, kill. Kill! Kill! KILL! He rammed the butt of the shotgun into the crazies' broken noise and teeth again knocking her back onto the ground. He planted his feet, pulled the shotgun tight to his shoulder, shoved the muzzle into the woman's yawning mouth, and pulled the trigger. The first shot jarred him; but, he didn't stop. He racked the slide, loaded another cartridge into the chamber, and roared out in pure rage before releasing another volley of double-ought buck into the crazy's head. Jerry sat there racking the shotgun slide and pulling the trigger even continuing after he spent his last cartridge and all that came from pulling the trigger was a dull click from the hammer striking air.

Roy stared at Jerry for a long moment just listening to the clicking of the empty shotgun. He slowly placed his hand on the shotgun and took it from Jerry. He stared down at the mashed and bloody remains of the crazy that now lie still on the grass. “Jerry, we have to go,” Roy said quietly. Jerry stared in an almost catatonic state at the devastation that he caused. “Jerry, we don't have time for this. Everything within a mile heard that. We have to go. We have to go now! They're coming!” Getting no response from Jerry, Roy shouldered the shotgun and grabbed Jerry by the vest he was wearing. Dragging him back through the clinic to the Humvee, still parked where they left it. Roy shoved Jerry into the passenger side before climbing in the driver seat and flooring the gas. The Humvee tore off down the street, passing the wrecks and the crazies trying to catch up. Jerry only stared out the window that reflected the burning buildings and cars that darkened the sky with ash and smoke. The world was fine several hours ago. The world was perfect. Then the perfect world became hell. The end of the world had begun.