Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen Read online

  “Rescue-one calling the police.” He said wondering if he should have said Over, like people do on television.

  “Who is this?” A woman’s voice answered.

  “Andy Oakes, from the lake store, I’m calling from an ambulance. Look, you need to get some cops to the campground right away.”

  “What’s the situation?” the woman asked.

  “I don’t know. A riot I guess. People just started attacking each other.”

  “Stay on the line please.” Her voice was stern and the order so final that it gave Andy a chill. The driver continued to speed through town with sirens blazing. Soon they neared the hospital. The ambulance veered to the left into the red-zone loop in front of the emergency room. The EMT continued to squeeze the breathing bag, filling the girl’s lungs with air while the vehicle came to a stop. Andy noticed a black Porsche 911 with its front wheels on the sidewalk, blocking their way. He recognized the car as belonging to Lance Richardson; the car his girlfriend, Wanda Claremont drove around town. Andy remembered seeing Wanda leave the campground just before the trouble began. The driver’s door hung open and he now noticed that the left front tire was flat from smashing into the curb. Andy wondered if Wanda was okay as the driver quickly left the ambulance.

  The rear doors opened filling the ambulance with bright light as the driver rushed to pull the gurney out. The EMT followed while fumbling with the breathing valve on the girl’s face; then he suddenly snapped his hand away, dropping the bag.

  “Shit!” He said.

  “Forget it, its dirty; lets just get her inside.” The driver cautioned pulling the gurney on to the sidewalk. Andy, still in the back of the ambulance waiting for the radio, heard the girl moan as they left.

  “She nipped me,” Andy heard the EMT say. He almost put the microphone down when the speakers crackled to life, startling him.

  “Andy, this is Chief Murdoch, do you read me?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  Andy hesitated; Did the paramedic say that she bit him?

  “Um… People just started freaking out for no reason. It wasn’t like a big fight; more like some people just started attacking others randomly.”

  “Okay, go on.”

  “Someone bit a little girl on her ear.”

  “Did you say bit?” The Chief’s voice was sandpaper.

  “Yeah, took a chunk out of it.”

  “Okay Andy, thanks. I’ll be in touch with you later.” The Chief’s voice said. Andy relaxed and set the microphone down but the conversation continued on the radio.

  “Annie, call the Sheriff and tell him we’re going to the lake, any help he can send will be appreciated.”

  “Is this serious?” She asked.

  “I don’t know; Maybe. We’ve been hearing odd things from other departments. You should call the community emergency people and set up the shelters, the school and the plant, just in case.”

  “Yes sir.” Her voice was weak. Andy, his shoulders heavy with worry, made his way from the vehicle.

  Andy saw small droplets of blood near the Porsche as he approached the hospital. The blood had soaked into the pores of the concrete and was starting to dry in the sun taking on a dirty brown hue. The sight shook him but he didn’t have time to consider it for long. The double doors to the emergency room swept open as the EMT and driver exited the building in great haste. Andy saw that the EMT’s hand was bleeding.

  “Hey! You better watch that hand man!” Andy cautioned. The EMT lifted it up and smiled.

  “I’ll take care of it in my rig.” He dismissed.

  “C’mon, I want some Nachos.” The driver urged while patting the EMT on the back pushing him along. The EMT nodded.

  “Yeah, I’m getting pretty hungry myself.”

  Andy shook his head and entered the hospital. The sounds of confusion and commotion greeted him. The waiting room, a large open area that could accommodate many, was empty except for one very large man that Andy easily recognized. In a town of only seven thousand people, Andy being six-feet, four-inches tall and weighing over three-hundred pounds was well aware of the only man larger than himself within many miles. His name was Clancy Burrows and though he wasn’t as tall, he was a good hundred pounds heavier than Andy. Clancy stood alone in the center of the room, clad only in a huge bathrobe, staring at the doors behind a wide counter from which all the sounds were emanating. The man had a confused look on his face when he turned to quickly acknowledge Andy, then return to gaze at the cacophony. Andy felt greatly concerned for the young girl with the torn ear. He knew the commotion must be the medical team working on her. Despite his true worry for the girl, Andy couldn’t help but quickly wonder where Clancy bought a bathrobe that large. Even when Andy special ordered clothes from catalogues, he could never find a bathrobe that fit him correctly. Maybe later on, when it was appropriate, he would ask Clancy about the garment.

  “Strange.” Clancy said in a slow, drawn out voice. “They’ve been at it back there for a while now.”

  “But we just got here?” Andy said.

  “No. That stunning redhead, Wanda Claremont came rushing in a while ago with a bite mark on her beautiful little ass.”

  “Whoa. I saw her car outside… On her ass?” Andy asked in disbelief. Clancy nodded slowly with a bemused look that bordered on creepy.

  “I really don’t know what to make of it. I’d go home but Doc Osteen needs to monitor me before my surgery tomorrow.” Clancy said.

  “What kind of surgery?”

  “Gastric bypass, my boy. The Doc has postponed surgery three times now, and I don’t want to miss another opportunity.”

  “Bypass?” And asked, “The stomach thing?” Clancy turned to him slowly and nodded with a sigh.

  “Good Doctor Osteen assures me that I will die very soon if I don’t do something about my weight.” The large man said, “I’ve tried everything, I truly have. I’m sure you know something about how difficult it can be to exercise when one already tips the scales.”

  Andy nodded slightly.

  “This may just be my last chance.”

  The door to the exam room burst open causing both men to jump. Doctor Osteen, his face sweaty and unsure, rushed to the phone on the counter area. He hit a few buttons and the speaker sounded. An electronic ring cycled twice then a woman’s voice was heard asking that the caller leave a voice mail. The Doctor cursed and looked at the two men.

  “I need your help.” said the Doctor pointing an urgent finger. He began to write on a notepad. Andy looked at Clancy, who shrugged and motioned to the Doctor. Reluctant, Andy approached the counter.

  “Is the girl okay?” Andy asked. He saw the Doctor stop writing and pause for a moment. Without answering, he started writing again, and then tore the sheet free.

  “Go to the third floor, room three-oh-three and find Denise. She’s the weekend admin with all the important keys. Tell her I need Haloperidol, Stat!” The Doctor handed Andy the note and followed up with, “Go now! Hurry!”

  Andy jogged as fast as he could down the hall to the elevator, crashing into a young orderly exiting the doors. The much smaller man bounced off of Andy and back into the elevator, knocking into three large oxygen canisters standing in the corner. The young man scrambled to catch one of the tall canisters that almost toppled over.

  “Shit!” he said righting the long metal tank with the others. “You’re not supposed to run around a hospital.”

  “Sorry man, I got an emergency.” Andy explained.

  “Me too,” he said exasperated, “They called a code.” He patted the tanks delicately and said, “Don’t touch these, they’re flammable.”

  Andy nodded and let the man pass.

  The elevator doors opened to an eerie silence. The hallway in front of Andy was small, quiet, and windowless. Reading from the wall-mounted floor directory he saw that the offices were to his right. He headed to the end of the hall and found a number of doors. Opening number Three-z
ero-three, he found only an empty office.

  “Hello” he said; his voice failing to carry far. It surprised him how acoustically dead the floor was. “Is anyone here?” he continued a little louder as he approached the desk. No one answered. He looked around the desk without touching its contents. The paperwork he saw suggested that someone had been working there. He exited and double checked the door to see that he had the right office. He looked at the note that Doc. Osteen had handed him, Denise, Three-oh-three, Haloperidol. Stat!!!

  “Where the hell are you Denise?” He said and began to test the rest of the door knobs in the hall. “Hello?” he began to shout. All of the doors he tried were locked. He shouted again; his voice sounding empty, flat, without echo. From behind and at a distance, Andy heard the elevator doors open.

  “Hello? Denise?” he shouted as he ran down the hall, his heavy steps producing dull thumps. From around the corner a woman holding a take-out coffee cup poked her head sheepishly around the corner. She spoke.

  “Yes?”

  Andy, his legs already starting to tire, held his hand outstretched, offering her the note. Upon reaching her, she took the wrinkled paper and read.

  “He needs this now?” she said reaching into the pocket of her coat; keys jangled within.

  “Stat.” Andy said catching his breath suddenly realizing that he shouldn’t be panting after such a short run. Maybe Clancy’s right; maybe I should lose some weight.

  “Okay.” Denise said and turned, careful not to spill her coffee. Andy followed her into the elevator mindful not to bump the canisters with his bulk. Denise looked at the Oxygen and raised an eyebrow.

  “Those aren’t supposed to be in here.” She said. Andy nodded in agreement.

  As the elevator doors opened on the first floor, Andy saw two armed security guards running towards the emergency room. The sounds of commotion, of furniture tossed aside, and of confused cries emanated from the waiting area.

  “What’s all this?” Denise asked while taking curious steps towards the tumult.

  “Don’t!” he cautioned, “Its like up at the lake.”

  “What are you talking about?” She said crouching down to peer around a corner into the waiting room. Andy, sweat forming on his brow, joined her.

  “What the hell?” Denise whispered.

  Prompted by her question, Andy quickly saw the reason for the woman’s alarm. He saw Clancy running, but not in a conventional manner. He was more like wobbling from side to side on his thick legs as fast as he could manage. Clancy glanced back at his pursuer, revealing to Andy, the horrid look of fear on his face. Behind him followed a once beautiful woman clad in only a blue two-piece bathing suit. Her dyed red hair blazed in contrast to the ashen lifeless shade of her once tanned flesh. Andy knew the woman as Wanda Claremont. He might not have recognized her but for her abandoned Porsche outside. She had changed so much he almost couldn’t believe his eyes. Wanda raged like an animal, her hair whipping about like a wildfire as she gained on the large man despite her stiffened pace. Her hands outstretched, grasped onto the back of his terrycloth robe and pulled him off balance. Clancy made a heartbreaking cry as he flailed his arms, struggling to stop the floor from rushing towards him. As his robe opened, his bare belly flopped on the tile floor with a loud slap. Wanda threw herself onto the man and bit into the soft plentiful flesh of his exposed back. He pulled himself forward into a crawl, gasping a desperate cry with the effort as he moved towards a staircase to the second floor. He began to climb up on all fours. Wanda remained on his back, riding him as he struggled up the stairs. Her legs fell obscenely around his large body and she thrust her head back down to bite the man again. Andy almost threw up on Denise when he saw Wanda tear away a hairy portion of Clancy’s flesh, chew twice, and make a swallowing motion. Andy rushed to turn away and pulled Denise on the shoulder to do the same. She moved away from the corner.

  “We have to call the cops!” She trembled. Andy hit the elevator call button rapidly.

  Denise looked at Andy with a pale and drawn expression. A gunshot blasted from the emergency room and with it, a figure propelled into the hallway. It was Doctor Osteen, his white lab coat now stained with thick arterial blood, a small hole torn in the fabric just above his heart. His throat was torn out and now appeared a mass of ragged wet tissue like an old bloody mop. Denise screamed, her coffee cup flying out of her hands. The doctor craned his neck in her direction, blood oozing down as if his wound were a sponge being slowly wrung out. His lifeless eyes seemed to lock onto Denise with some evil recognition. The doctor fell forward and started towards her. Denise screamed once more. Andy pulled her aside as a security guard bounded around the corner after the erstwhile Doctor Osteen. The bloody ghoul raised his hands towards Denise just as the elevator doors opened. The security guard launched himself onto the Doctor’s back, sending the two into the open elevator. The guard’s pistol tumbled to the elevator’s floor with a metallic thud. The two men struggled inside in a frenzied and panicked brawl while the doors closed. Andy let go of Denise as the elevator car appeared to ascend; the sounds of close quarters conflict rising with it.

  “What the hell was that?” Denise shouted at Andy, her eyes mad with shock.

  Something in the waiting area heard her, grunted, and started to move towards them. Andy took her by the arm. They both began to run leaving behind them the sound of more gunshots, firing faster and faster, over blood chilling screams.

  One

  Tony Sanchez felt as if his head were about to split open and erupt his swollen brains into a hot puddle at his feet. He’d heard of migraines but never understood just how bad a non-hangover related headache could get until now. The sun had just retreated from view and the cool evening should have provided some relief. Yet the pressure behind his bloodshot eyes only seemed to increase. Leaning his exhausted body against a tree in an instinct for cover, he spied the town below through a pair of binoculars. Straining to examine the compressed view of Whisper brought a queasy vertigo that only made him feel worse. He tried to tell himself that the stress of fighting the walking dead along with a lack of sleep and proper nutrition were behind his discomfort. He didn’t dare admit the main reason for his migraine; the fact that he hadn’t had a cigarette for two days. The fighting and fear had kept his adrenalin up over the past thirty-six hours but now, in the relative safety overlooking the town, his mind yearned for nicotine. The smoldering afterglow of battle left him craving a smoke and his only defense was denial. With the binoculars he noticed a figure wandering slowly through the lonely streets and forced his addiction to the distant corners of his mind. The figure below moved in a peculiar jerky manner that was unmistakable; it was one of them, a risen corpse.

  The distance was great but Tony could see the formerly living thing limping along almost confused, like a wayward child seeking lost parents but in surreal slow motion. The directionless beast was clad in a heavy fireman’s coat. Focusing tighter with the binoculars, Tony noticed other shapes moving in the distance, suggesting that the ghoul wasn’t alone. Suddenly, the wretched thing stopped and stiffened its distorted form causing Tony’s muscles to tighten across his chest. He saw the creature lift its head northward towards a group of buildings in the center of town. The monster began to move as if driven by some renewed purpose, lurching faster and faster. Its hellish craving was apparent to Tony, filling him with alarm. It must smell something good over there, he thought. Tony quickly forgot about cigarettes as a gentle breeze blew over him.

  “Jeeze,” Tony mumbled.

  He lowered the binoculars and took in the sight of the entire town. He stood approximately two miles from the perimeter of Whisper, as the crow flies. Whisper was a small town; home to some seven-thousand souls. To the west, dominating the valley was a large industrial plant, the Richardson Ammunition factory. Its sprawling acreage housed several large manufacturing buildings, a train yard, smaller office structures, and storage silos. Sprinkled on the outskirts of the high fenced compou
nd were various blast-resistant bunkers fed by roads where Tony assumed that every sort of firearm ammunition would be stored. The world had been thrown into chaos in the past twenty-four hours and Tony knew that if he and his friends were going to survive they would need to get their hands on some ammunition.

  The situation was impossible yet Tony took solace from the presence of his best friend Jack Mason. Their friendship began some twenty-five years ago in Kindergarten. A mutual love of adventure films, martial arts, and homemade weaponry filled the days of their youth. As a kid, Tony looked up to Mason and envied his martial arts ability. The boys grew up studying post apocalyptic films and pulp-novels; media that Tony’s parents never approved of. Tony spent most of his free time with Mason, playing army in the neighborhood creeks and fields with BB guns. They took to training with Jack’s father’s boxing equipment, later taking classes in Karate and Kung Fu, and studying swordplay. Fun became serious study for in the waning years of the Cold War, Mason began to fear that a nuclear exchange was inevitable. They shared many harrowing adventures in their youth, luckily emerging somewhat unscathed. Tony always felt that everything would be alright as long as Jack Mason was around. After high school as childhood fears gave way to reason, Tony expanded his interests, working his way through college and trying to find his path but Mason scoffed at higher education and never waivered in his training. In their adult years Mason put together a top-notch paintball team that competed nationally of which Tony was an original member; Team Blackjack. But Tony had grown tired of paintball, and of sparring with Mason, tired of antiquated Kendo fencing sessions that seemed to have little use in the modern world. This trip to Whisper had become the end of an inner debate for Tony who found himself resolved to leaving the team and taking on more grown-up pursuits, just before all hell broke lose.

  They met the girls, Veronica and Nikki, at the paintball field just two days ago. Joined together by terrible chance, they survived their first experience with the living dead through courage, cunning, and luck. Once strangers, the girls had quickly become trusted allies. Their escape over the mountain from what they all thought was an isolated incident turned to out to be just a respite from a much greater problem. Tony realized that his headache appeared once they’d heard the news bulletins over the radio. The dead were returning to life with a savage appetite for living flesh; not just here but across the globe. If Tony hadn’t witnessed these events firsthand, hadn’t fought with the creatures, hadn’t smelled the ripe urine-tinged stink of their infection and escaped, he would’ve never believed the reports. The news covered more about the crisis but offered little information as to a possible cause, aside from the fact that it was related to a vast meteor shower that seemed to affect most of the planet. People were warned to avoid contact with any such meteorites. Tony and his three companions had just escaped what they thought were the jaws of hell, only to land in a much larger fire. The four survivors needed to regroup and come up with a plan for this new reality.