DAY 10

DAY 10:


Okay.  I’m going to do this.  I’m going to go out, check out the police car and come right back in.  That’s the plan.  Wish me luck.


Well, I guess the good news is that the bleeding has stopped.  The bad news is that it’ll probably get infected and I’ll die slowly.  I’m not sure how to categorize the fact that I’m completely fucking insane.  It sure doesn’t feel like good news.  On the other hand, if I’m not crazy, and the jury is still out on that one, I am royally screwed; which would make dying kind of a good thing.  I’ll try to explain what happened and you can decide.

I went down to the lobby, remembering to bring the flashlight this time.  After unlocking the front doors, I stood in front of them for a good five minutes, watching the street for anything moving.  One big deep breath, and I pulled the door open and stepped outside.  It closed softly behind me and I waited, listening for more screams or gunshots, looking for anything out of place.  The wind coming off of Puget Sound was cold, it rustled the bare branches of the trees in front of my building, and I could hear seagulls, but that was all.

I started down the sidewalk towards the intersection where the police car sat.  I was making myself dizzy, swinging my head around, trying to look everywhere at once and ready to bolt back into the building if anything jumped out at me.  When I got to the corner, I checked up and down Wall Street several times, saw nothing, and stepped into the intersection.  My already pounding heart thumped harder when I saw there was someone sitting behind the wheel.

I froze for a second, but whoever was in there wasn’t moving, so I started inching closer.  Then I could see the uniform, and as I got closer, thought that it was a fat cop behind the wheel.  Sliding around the front bumper towards the driver’s door, I could see that the cop wasn’t fat; he was bloated.  He was dead, all puffed up and decomposing.  Standing next to the car I could smell him, and it was awful.  I didn’t want to stretch it out any longer, so I yanked the door open, and got hit with the most putrid stench imaginable.  It literally knocked me to my knees, and I puked up the entire box of Cheerios I had eaten before venturing out.

I retched loudly, and continued to do so until well after there was nothing left to bring up.  The wind was stronger here, blowing straight up Wall Street from the Sound, and it carried the worst of the stink away.  I struggled back to my feet, lightheaded from the strain of throwing up so violently.  The cop had his pistol on his right hip, and there was a shotgun mounted and locked to the dashboard.  I didn’t want to lean over the dead man to get the weapons, so I reached through the steering wheel, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and started walking around the back of the police car.

As I was opening the passenger door, I glance over the roof of the car.  I believe the sound I made would be described as a yelp.  There were two of them, a man and a woman.  They way they were moving made me think they were drunk.  That was not the case.  I tried calling out to them.  They didn’t respond.  They didn’t slow down.  They just kept moving down the middle of the street towards me.  I ducked into the car and yanked the cop’s pistol out of its holster.  I then flipped through the keys, found the one that looked like it would unlock the shotgun, and freed the weapon.

My knowledge of firearms is limited to what I’ve seen in the movies and on TV, and my ability to shoot has been honed by video games; which is to say, I hold little in the way of any true weapon skills.  As soon as I freed the shotgun, I dropped the keys and stood up straight, holding the shotgun in my left hand and the pistol in my right.  I pointed the pistol over the roof of the car at the couple still walking towards me.  They were only about 20 feet away.

“Please,” I shouted, “just leave me alone!”

They kept coming.  They were close enough now that I could see that their eyes were blood red where they should have been white, and that their pupils were dilated to the point where I couldn’t see any iris.  Then they started making the same growling/moaning sound that Mrs. Olmstead had made.  I kept the gun pointed at them and started sidestepping towards my building.  Just as I cleared the car, the woman charged.

I screamed, “No!”  She didn’t stop.  I pulled the trigger.  The gun jumped in my hand.  The bullet hit her in the chest and then she slammed into me.  We went down in a tangle and I dropped the shotgun.  As I was trying to push her off of me, I saw the man staggering towards us.  The pistol was trapped between the woman and I, and there was nothing I could do when the man dropped down and grabbed my left leg.  I was trying to free my arm as the man began biting me just above my left knee.  Screaming, I jerked my arm out from underneath the woman and then fired into the top of the man’s head.

I finally managed to get out from under the two crazy bastards.  My leg was throbbing, I could feel the blood running down my shin and see it soaking through my khaki pants.  As I was picking up the shotgun, I noticed three more people a block away, shuffling down 1st Avenue in my direction.  I hobbled as fast as I could back to my building, got the door locked, and ducked behind a couch in the lobby.  I don’t know why, but they didn’t try to get in, they just moved right on past the doors.

So have I completely lost my mind?  My leg is starting to itch now and I feel a little feverish.  It seems too soon for an infection to be setting in, but who knows what that son of a bitch was chewing on before he bit me.  I guess if I survive the night I can try to find some penicillin tomorrow.




Posted on October 5, 2013, in Fiction and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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