Part 2 (2/2)
His decent was torturous. His fingers barely fit into the small holes in the cage. Most of the way down he was supported by only his pinky fingers. When he finally made it down his fingertips were bruised and bleeding. He pulled his car keys from his briefcase, climbed into his BMW, and reached for the first aid kit he kept under the pa.s.senger seat.
After cleaning himself up and applying several bandages to his wounds he grabbed for his iPhone. Phones were not allowed inside the building, so he left his in the center console. This time he called the number for the local police department which was saved in his contacts.
”Clay Hills police department,” the man said in a half statement half question as he answered the phone.
”h.e.l.lo my name is Brian Sawyer. I work for the BCRC laboratory about eight miles outside of town. I would like to report an emergency.”
”Sure, what is your badge number, sir?”
”I do not have one. I am not a security officer. I am a researcher. There has been a major catastrophe. We were-”
”I'm sorry but I need a security officer to contact us for emergencies, sir,” the man interrupted him, yet he maintained a polite demeanor.
”The security officers are dead!” Brian exclaimed in frustration. ”Most of, if not all of the other employees here are dead as well.”
”Can you hold for just a moment, sir?” The man didn't wait for an answer to that question. The tone of his voice was that of urgency. He returned to the line a moment later. ”Sir, we are unable to get a response from the security personnel there.”
”No s.h.i.+t you did not get a response. What did I just tell you?”
”Sir, I understand your frustration, and because we didn't receive an answer we are sending a squad car to that location.”
”You are going to need more than one. Can you send more?” Brian asked. The frustration was still evident in his voice.
”I'm sorry, we will send a car out and wait for the report. If other units are needed they will be immediately dispatched to the location.”
”The location is going to be much bigger than that building. A contamination leak has infected numerous researchers. Now these researchers are killing each other. The area needs to be contained immediately.”
”Again I'm sorry, but this is the best I can do until I hear from a badge. If there is a contamination problem than a HAZMAT team will be dispatched.”
”Just make it fast, or this problem will be far too large to contain,” Brian said as he hung up the phone and threw it down on the pa.s.senger seat.
The containment took too long, and the contamination spread exponentially in every direction. Early reports were dismissed as a hoax. Over the next few weeks prophecies were uncovered that showed Nostradamus predicted this event in the mid fifteen-hundreds. Churches responded by saying it was G.o.d's doing, and He was purging the world of sin. Plans, purging, and prophecies held nothing to the arrogance of man.
Chapter 4.
Rays of sunlight s.h.i.+ned through the cracks in between the two-by-fours used to board up the windows of the Channel Thirteen News building. The stairwell leading down was blocked off using filing cabinets, desks, couches, and chairs. Floors two, three, and four have all been cleared by the small group of survivors. The waves of undead came through the windows and doors like hungry wolves on the scent of an injured deer, pus.h.i.+ng the lucky ones up the stairs while the rest were torn apart.
Reports had flooded in from all over town, but none of the news team knew what to think. It seemed to be some sort of hoax at first. People killing each other only to have their dead victims rise up and kill seemed a bit farfetched. By the time trusted sources confirmed these events, it was too late.
Bradley Andrews was one of the lucky ones, or at the very least, he was a survivor. Six people survived the attack on the news building that day. The small group managed to hold the attackers at the stairs while they built a blockade with whatever furniture could be found. Many of the people that lost their lives that day were good friends, and Bradley made it a goal to remember each and every one of them. They would never receive a proper burial. Remembering them was the best he had to give.
Frank and his wife Lisa survived the initial attack as well. Because of their actions, the barricade was completed. They were a middle aged couple who were run out of their home, but not before they could each grab a shotgun and enough sh.e.l.ls to keep the rus.h.i.+ng horde of undead at the stairs. It's unclear why they chose the news building, but Bradley believed none of them would have survived without them. In the matter of only a few hours, a bite Lisa received turned into an uncontrollable infection. She turned and killed two other survivors before Frank shot her.
Sara was a ten year old girl who came to work with her mother that day because she wasn't feeling well. She was bitten by Lisa after she turned on the group. Four hours was all the longer she could hold on before she too turned into one of the undead and attacked the group. No one was hurt this time. Frank took it upon himself once again to deal with the infected. Grief caused him to take his own life the following day.
Emalynn Austin was 16 at the time of the attack, below average height with shoulder length brown hair. Her dark brown eyes always glistened in the light as if they were wet marbles. She was visiting her father, Jared, for lunch. Jared hid Emalynn in a closet on the third floor and rushed into the attackers when they came into the building. His actions helped save the lives of the other survivors also, and for that, Bradley swore to remember his sacrifice.
Jared's death was the most brutal thing Bradley had seen in his career as a news reporter. Jared held his ground as several of the enraged attackers pounded their fists into him. Fingernails dug deep into his flesh, tearing it away in strips. The man may not have been strong, but he would fight with everything he had to protect his daughter.
The sound of bones breaking could be heard over every other sound made in those few moments. Jared's arms and legs were bent until the bones snapped. His head was twisted back and forth. Punches landed to his body and face. Blood was spit from his mouth in sickening gurgles. When his skull finally collapsed, his attackers dropped his lifeless body and moved toward their next victim.
Safely locked away in his office, Roger hid through the whole thing. From the moment they first started to cover the riots he was cowering under his desk. He knew nothing of the news, sports, or weather, yet his business degree said he was capable of running a TV station. For the most part he did a fine enough job, and he was a nice enough guy who was always in good spirits.
Roger was obviously well fed before the attack, standing about five-foot ten-inches tall and almost three-hundred and twenty-five pounds. How he managed not to starve to death over the past year perplexed Bradley. His black hair was kept short enough for the bald spot in the back to really stand out. The bushy eyebrows that resembled fuzzy black caterpillars rested above his dark brown eyes.
Roger had a wife who was almost as heavy as him. Together they had three children. The oldest was their only son. He was nine. Their two daughters were seven and three. Roger never once mentioned them after the attack. Almost as if he cut them off as a loss and moved on.
There was a makes.h.i.+ft ladder that allowed Bradley to sneak out and scavenge for whatever food and water he could find. After the first couple of months living like this, he found himself relieved that only the three of them survived. Of course he was sad for the lives lost, but when the big hauls became scarce he feared it would have provoked violence amongst the members of the group. Roger caused enough problems as it was. Most of his day was spent complaining of being hungry. Many times Bradley thought of throwing him out a window and feeding him to the undead.
After the attack, he tried numerous times to broadcast a message, yet the power was unreliable. Backup generators in the building only supplied enough power to run the lights, the security system, and a few other parts of the building. There were many attempts to procure the funding to upgrade the backup power systems to allow the station to broadcast during major power outages. However, the board of directors felt that was an unnecessary use of finances, as there was very rarely a large scale power outage in the area.
Bradley, Emalynn, and Roger managed to survive through the year living in the top three floors of the building. Food was becoming increasingly hard to come by, and Bradley felt that they would have to move along soon or starve to death. The gunshot they heard had given him hope, though. He wanted nothing more than for that to be a signal of some kind, but it was never followed up. There was no announcement of a safe house or rescue, yet he kept watch in the direction the shot came from.
He found that he grew fond of Emalynn, but he couldn't find it in him to confront her romantically even though he sensed the same feelings from her. Instead he kept close to her like a big brother safe-guarding his kid sister from the neighborhood boys. He knew they both deserved to find love, yet he wouldn't feel right knowing that their love came from a lack of options or even as a survival mechanism. There was still life out there, he knew it. Finding Emalynn a safe home was his only priority now.
In the days following the gunshot, Bradley took watch out the windows of the fourth floor facing east toward the hills. He moved Emalynn up there with him to keep her close. Roger's office was just down the hall. Roger spent all of his time in there, and could often be heard shouting and beating on the walls. He was only seen when Bradley came back with more food, but as that had happened less and less, Roger became very irritable.
As the sun started making its decent to the west, Bradley caught the sight of a small object flas.h.i.+ng in the distance. It was much too small to tell for sure what it was, but he definitely saw it. The flash appeared to come from either the roof of a house or the hills behind it. Bradley wasn't familiar with Morse code, yet this seemed too haphazard to be any kind of distinctive pattern. It wasn't there before, and as soon as it had stopped he knew it was definitely a human.
Chapter 5.
Jonathan sat on his roof once more watching the dead roam the streets. His gunshot must have stirred them up, as he noticed that over the past couple of days they had been settling back down. They no longer roamed the town with such vigor, yet they surely did not disappear he knew.
”They must settle in somewhere,” he said under his breath as he scanned the houses.
He turned his attention from the streets to the sky. The sun cast its radiance over the ocean, creating swirls of orange and purple. It was like watching a dance performed with melted wax.
After allowing himself to be lost in the beauty of the world for what seemed like eternity, he decided to head back inside to continue sorting out his father's story. He was unaware that the gunshot had alerted more than the dead to his presence, and that his binoculars had been reflecting the sun. This was sending a signal to several survivors that would soon come to find him.
Chapter 6.
Emalynn turned to her back and slowly sat up blinking the sleep from her eyes. She looked around to find Bradley sitting against the wall looking out the window. ”Anything happening out there? Anything new that is?” she questioned as she stretched her arms far over her head.
”We are going to have to move. Someone is there, but they are too far away to see or even signal from here with the limited resources we have,” Bradley stated.
”We will be killed if we leave.”
”We will die of starvation if we stay. Besides, I think I can go out and clear a new spot for us to hide. We can make our way slowly day to day moving from place to place.” Bradley could see that this scared the young woman, but he knew it was the only way they would make it. ”I'll make sure you get out of this. I promise you that.”
<script>