September 26, 1998 8:45 PM
They never give up. Victor Taranto could tell by the scratching in the hallway outside his door. Occasionally things would quiet down, but the silence did not last very long. Shooting through the door is an option. Unfortunately that would only make it worse, he thought staring at the door. He could almost guess where they would be standing. Even if they were below the average person's height he would still hit something. The sound of the shot would probably draw more, but it was tempting.
Instead he closed his eyes for a moment taking in a healthy dose of heavy metal. The music was turned down low enough that no one outside the room could hear it. He didn't want all of them to crowd the halls in search of it's source. Fighting his way through more than twenty undead cannibals didn't sound like a good plan if he were forced to leave. Even if he made it out of the building he would be seriously low on ammunition. Not the greatest thing to happen in a city full of them and god only knows what other abominations roaming the streets.
Leaning back in his chair and taking a bite out of an apple he stared at the blank computer screen. Power for the building went out two days ago. Until a few hours ago the whole building had been powered by a large generator that was probably going to run out of fuel shortly. During that time period he had kept track of search and rescue operations within the city. Not to mention a few that were attempts to cover up any evidence as to the cause of the outbreak. They were smart, but not smart enough to slip past him.
Luckily he had taken the time to charge his cell phone as well. That was how he had maintained contact with his sister Stacy. She had been on her way home from Raccoon University when the outbreak had hit full force. With the streets too dangerous to continue she along with a number of survivors had taken refuge in the neighborhood church. Pulling up a number of crisis management and FEMA plans he had learned that it was used as a shelter during times of emergency. It still was a long way from his current location. Twenty miles or more with the Circular River between them.
Three RPD officers had been deployed to the area along with one medium level EMT. Last time he had received word the number of infected individuals outside had doubled and they had locked down the entire building. That caused him a great deal of worry. If something were to happen there was no way he could get there in time. Even though he could cover half the distance on foot in hours with the current state of Raccoon it would take a day or two at most. Keeping a steady pace, picking through the destruction to find a safe path, hiding out when fighting isn't an option, having to backtrack when the road ahead is blocked, and other factors to consider.
Chances are nothing will happen, he thought, even if something does Stacy can take care of herself. Hard as it was to stomach, it was true. Most of their family had passed on from age, sickness, accidents, and like. All his old comrades were dead, imprisoned, or missing. She was the only person left that he cared about. For that reason he had tried to protect her from the world. Except baby sister wasn't a baby anymore. She had grown up into a strong beautiful woman. It was hard for him to admit that she didn't need big brother to take care of her anymore.
Tossing the apple core in a nearby trash can he got up from his chair to being his routine work out. Concentrating on his breathing he quickly counted off two of the soon to be fifty push ups. Rather simple exercise since he was trying to conserve his energy. Not to mention it helped to ward off most of the worry and keep him in a good mood. A form of meditation if one were to think about it a little more. Last thing he wanted setting in was cabin fever. If that happened any chance of him surviving the mess he was caught up in were slim.
The cell phone rang and Victor sprang to his feet. Muttering a curse after knocking over a bottle of water reaching for it. He chose to answer it before searching for a towel to mop up the spilled water. Even though there was a chance of it damaging the computer that was an acceptable loss to him. "Vic. These things got into the building... Everyone is dead... I don't know how long it will be before they find me." she whispered. By the sound of her voice he could tell she was under a lot of stress. Close to crying. Which shook him up a great deal. He could hear a few muffled screams in the background. Odds were she was in a closet of some sort.
"Don't have much time. Get out of the city while you can."
"We're leaving together. Just keep quiet and hang in there." he said walking to the other side of his living room. Hanging above the television was a rather large portrait of the "Last Supper". Religion was something he did not care for, but it was a gift from his sister so he kept it. While holding the phone to his ear with one hand he removed the picture from the wall and leaned it against the television. Barely visible were pencil markings outlining where the painting had been. "I'm on my way out. See you soon."
"Good bye Vic. Love you."
"Love you too Sis." he answered before she cut off the phone. He did not know what had attacked the church. He only knew he would need more than a pistol to clear the building. Drawing the knife from the sheath on his belt he cut through the dry wall. Carefully following the outline he had previously made. After the cut had been made he removed the section and set it off to the side along with a pile of insulation. Hidden within the wall was something that would result in a lot of trouble if anyone besides himself found it. A short barrel selective-fire AR-type rifle along with seven thirty round magazines. Lightly oiled and sealed in plastic to protect it from moisture. Eleven boxes of ammunition was sealed in another bag separate from everything else
It was going to be a very long night.
September 26, 1998 9:23PM
The smell, something he'd never forget for as long as he lived. It wasn't the pool of blood, urine, and rotting flesh outside. Instead it was the musty smell of old books, files, and newspaper crammed onto the surrounding shelves. Strange that after all that had happened something so simple bothered him. Of course he had been in the small crowded room for well over twenty four hours. His left hand had lost all feeling in it after being subject to a vice like grip. For someone so small she had a great deal of strength. Fear brought out unusual things in people.
He knew something bad was going to happen. Many unusual things had been happening over the past few weeks. A lot of people had been staying home from school sick. Those who did show up sick looked half-dead. Sometimes drifting off leaving their pale sullen faces with a blank stare. Manners against scratching one's self in public were dropped due to a severe skin condition. The new city wide curfew had been put into effect a few days ago. No one was to be out on the streets after nine o'clock. Not to mention his dad stressing him being home from school well before curfew. All the window shutters had to be pulled down and all the doors locked after he got home. The doors were not to be opened for anyone for any reason. Personally he thought it had something to do with the search and rescue mission conducted by S.T.A.R.S. in the mountains.
Of course part of that seriously conflicted with his every day stops at the library. He always got home just an hour before curfew. His dad was never home long enough to notice his absence. Always drifting off every afternoon only to make it back home around three in the morning. Sometimes his dad didn't come back for days on end. Usually a short note was left saying he had to leave due to something work related. A little money for pizza or Chinese food was stuck on the refrigerator, with the little cow magnet he hated so much, next to the note.
Eventually things started to really get bad in the Uptown area. A body found every morning, or at least what was left of one. There was one incident to break the pattern. An empty cab was found in neighborhood after a resident called the police after hearing screams in the night. Every window busted out, a door ripped off the vehicle, and few empty shell casings in the driver's seat. No signs of the driver or their passengers except torn bloody seats, an empty gun, and a woman's shoe. This was followed by home invasions. Signs of forced entry, furniture thrown helter skelter, and ravaged bodies of the occupants. Some were missing. A survivor who hid in a closet reported seeing one of their dead relatives rise after the attack then walk outside and disappear into the night.
Just by watching the late night news he could tell it wouldn't be long before attacks started taking place in the day time. He needed some way to protect himself. Guns and ammo his dad owned were locked up in the safe. He had no idea what the combination was either. Fortunately there was one gun that wasn't locked up. For a while it rested inside a hollowed out copy of The Stand by Stephen King on the bookshelf inside the study. Forgotten by his father ever since it was placed there many years ago. He had found it year before last while looking for a new book to read. It was a small automatic pistol with Beretta .380 ACP stamped on the side. Wasn't the best in the world, but it was better than nothing at all.
It took a few nights for him to become familiar with how it worked. He knew enough not to let the end of the barrel point toward him and to keep his finger off the trigger while doing so. Then a couple more books from the library on how to use it. There were three magazines including the one in the gun. He counted thirty-seven cartridges all together. Each one with a small hollow inside the center of the bullet. Surprisingly the gun felt really good in his hand even with the rough wooden grips. Like it had been made especially for him. The sights were so crisp and clear he had no problem moving them onto a target as quickly as possible. Pulling the trigger on an empty chamber felt a little weird. Though it wasn't hard to get use to.
With a means for personal protection taken care of he slipped the gun into his bag and headed out for school the next morning after sunrise. Less people on the streets as it had been since everything started to get really bad. It was a cold cloudy day. With a slight chance of rain judging by the color of the clouds. A few sick people here and there. He made sure to keep his distance from them. Last thing he wanted was to get sick with whatever they had. Up ahead a pale man in a gray business suit started coughing into a handkerchief. The lady in black not too far behind him seemed to be in another world. Slowly drifting from one side of the sidewalk to the other. Taking light steps. Neither one of them paid him any attention as he passed him.
A nasty looking bandage stood out on the man's left hand. Wrapped right between the index finger and thumb. Stained with blood and pus. It looked infected going by the swelling and weird reddish color of the area around the wound. Although he couldn't tell what type of wound it was. Something was really wrong with them. He didn't know what it was, but he new it wasn't a new strain of the flu. A certain scene from Night of The Living Dead popped up in the back of his mind. The part where Jonny and Barbara noticed the old man in the cemetery before they were attacked. Once he had covered a fair amount of distance he glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed by them. Neither changed their current direction. Without any hesitation he picked up a slight jog and didn't stop.
Luckily he made it through the day without drawing too much attention to himself. For most of the day he almost forgot about having the pistol inside his backpack. Only reminded a few times after crossing the path of an RPD officer who patrolled the halls. A slight twinge of guilt over breaking a major school rule. He could live with it given the current state of the city. It would be something he truly would not regret later on in the future. As soon as school let out be made a quick circle to the back entrance and headed straight to the library.
Didn't take long for him to get there. With a partial attendance of the usual crowd that hung out there. The librarians, gaggle of students from the university, a few over-achievers from his school, and of course Anna. Above average athlete, child prodigy like himself, total knock out, and his secret crush for the past seven years. She usually helped out at the library after school. Trouble shooting any computer or filing issues they might have. All while brushing up on biology, medical stuff, and bio-chem for her future attendance at Raccoon University.
That was when everything start to go down hill rather quickly. Two police cars pulled up and four officers got out. One of them carrying a shotgun. Some of the patrons in the library started moving toward the door. One of the officers blocked the door and everyone stopped. "Ladies and gentlemen. It's not exactly safe to be out on the streets at this hour. There is rioting on the streets not too far from here. We're trying to contain it, but we're going to leave two officers here for your safety. Please remain calm and stay inside the building."
Holy crap has life been busy. Takes me to be in a whole other part of the world for me to finally post this. Who knows how long it will take me to post another chapter.