Lucas stood at the bottom of the stairway, leaning against the railing and watching the glass doorway curiously. Erin stood close by, in the hallway leading to the common room, watching the large glass doors with captive dread. Several people were gathered around the front doorway, pressed up against the glass windows, trying to see an event transpiring on the other side.
Lucas had been able to hear the noise of excited chatter all the way from the second floor hallway outside his room. When he had arrived at the stairway landing and the elevators marking where the main lobby doors were located below, the indecipherable chatter below had ominously cut short. Feeling his own heart thumping heavily away, Lucas stealthily made his way downstairs.
From what he could make out before the commotion went silent, someone had apparently gone outside to do something about the zombie at the door. Joining the others, Lucas saw that their unwanted visitor was indeed gone. The place was so quiet they could hear the faded groans of the thing outside and its scuffle with its combatant. The sound, without visible details was a little unnerving, considering Lucas could not know the outcome until it was done.
Jorge, Victor and Simon were standing beside the front door, pressed up against the glass and straining to see something to the right. Victor, the furthest left of the three, forcefully whispered to them. "He's coming back! Evan, I mean!"
"Is it dead?" Simon asked as he tried to lean closer to that side to look. In his right hand he firmly gripped a metal bar.
"I don't see it! It must be dead, those things run fast!" Victor replied, as Jorge worked to unlock the door. Simon made no attempt to stop the action, allowing Evan into the building again. As Jorge quickly worked to lock the door again, Simon held it firmly shut with both hands, dropping the weapon in his possession.
"Okay." Evan said as he entered the room. "It's done." He dropped the length of pipe on the floor with a metallic, ringing clatter and looked at his own hands and arms.
There was a moment of silence as the lock of the glass door clicked shut and everyone who dared to try tested the security with a little pull. Lucas quietly remained at his place on the stairs.
"I can see it now. It's not dead." Victor announced to the room and backed away from the wide glass doorway and broad floor to ceiling windows.
"What the hell did you do that for if you weren't going to kill it?" Simon scowled as he knelt to retrieve his metal bar.
"What was I supposed to do? Bash his head in and get blood all over me?" Evan spoke as he thoroughly looked over his arms and clothing.
Simon frowned, but after a moment conceeded the point with an unhappy nod.
"I just broke his legs. So now if he sees someone he won't be able to run at them like before. I wish I could have killed it, though."
Almost as if demonstrating, the zombie lurched into view, slowly returning to the door. One leg moved uneasily and it swayed a little with each step. It groaned out its disapproval with its reappearance, reaching for the door. Lucas watched the gradual approach with a curious fascination. The people who had been up against the glass only moments before backed away.
Lucas left his place on the stairs and quietly approached, passing between the people to approach the safe doorway. The thing was now badly cut across the right cheek and its grey suit was badly scuffed. It had a cut across part of its arm that dripped blood, and moved the hand a bit awkwardly. But none of those things were what caught Lucas's attention.
Where once had been relatively pristine grey slacks, there was now a heavy stain of red-brown, wet fluid. It was particularly bad on the left leg, and although the shadow of Blackwood dorm cast the walkway in darkness Lucas could see it was also soaking the otherwise nice black shoes. As the zombie lurched closer, merely a dozen or so feet from the door, Lucas could see a widening trail of dark fluid standing out against the grey pavement.
Lucas felt a little sick, realizing that the bone injuries inflicted by Evan must have punctured the skin, and opened an arterty. But he was also excited that the science he read would be put to the test. The zombie was losing a lot of its blood from those injuries, and very quickly.
"You probably did kill it!" Lucas announced as the zombie reached the door and a dark puddle began to coalesce at its feet. It shakily twisted and tugged at the door handle.
"What?" Simon replied.
There was silence from the other people in the area, as Lucas turned to face the others that had moved away from the door. "Muscles need blood to give them oxygen. If it doesn't have any blood able to supply it oxygen, it won't be able to move."
"But all the news sites say that only head injuries work." Victor gave a confused glance towards Simon after he spoke. "If blood loss worked too I think someone would have said something about it by now."
"I know, and that's weird that they're saying that, but whatever is going on, it still has muscles like we do." Lucas asserted. "We might not know what is happening out there, but muscles still follow rules and at least for us, they should only work like I said. So the zombie should collapse in a few minutes."
"What if it doesn't?" Erin asked from the back of the room. She had been silent up until now. "What if it's still out there moving in ten minutes? Or an hour?"
"Then it will show us that something is very, very wrong." Lucas pushed his glasses up his nose and turned back to observe the zombie.
"Something is wrong!" Came a chorus of a reply from Erin, Victor and Evan.
"I meant it would prove that these zombies aren't following the normal rules." Lucas replied without turning back to face the others. "It would tell us whether what we think we know can still be trusted. Either way, we'll have some kind of answer in a few more minutes."
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Friday, April 18, 2014
Outside Battle
Evan's pulse raced as he moved through the back door, crossing into the cool air of outside once again. Last time, he had gone outside to check up on a friend. Now he would ensure that one of the infected would be less likely to bite another person. He knew it wasn't the safest thing to do, but he did know out of those in the building, he was likely the one most capable of handling this. The people within the building watched him as they locked the door.
The length of old pipe given to Evan felt heavier than it looked, giving him the confidence that it would not break easily. It was unfortunate it was the best option available, but it was not like it wasn't still better than nothing. He had done a little sparring with similar implements before, but had never needed to use such methods before in genuine self defence. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the heavy pipe firmly in both hands and gave it a slow swing to test its balance.
Blackwood dormitory was laid out in the shape of a capital 'L', with the common room occupying the first floor of the shorter side of the structure. The longer part of the building faced the park blocks, where Evan's target was trying to get inside. Across the broad, empty walkway, the library stood tall, the edges of the structure lined with tall bushes. To the right, there was a broad open field for soccer or football and a grassy hill. To the left, there was the path leading towards the side of the Sanders building and its adjoining structure.
Evan turned to the left, advancing in a slow, meticulous walk. He edged away from the building cautiously, thinking about the inarticulate, almost clumsy charging exhibited by the zombies so far. He fully expected the thing to charge him when it saw he was outside the building. If so, he would be ready for that. The only real problem would be if he had to deal with more than one.
Creeping carefully away from the door while actively watching for movement, Evan kept his thoughts focused on his surroundings. Surveying the adjacent areas from the rooftop before coming down here was important, but he still had to be aware. A man easily could run several blocks in the time he took to arrive here. Chances were good that it wouldn't be clear for long, even if it was still safe right now.
Evan had almost hoped to see another lurching figure from the rooftop, because then the operation would have been too risky to attempt. Still, someone had to do this while they had the chance. It was the responsible thing to do in order to prevent the spread of the disease. After all, someone had to sort this thing out, or at least prevent it from getting any worse than it already was.
Passing the last barred window on the first floor of the dorm, Evan edged up to the corner of the building. He could hear the eerie groans and snarls of the thing clawing futilely at the door. Aside from the desolate breeze of the cold wind blowing through empty branches and the occasional bird call, it was the only notable sound.
Doing one last check of his surroundings and mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, a sense of dread washed over Evan. He knew people were inside these buildings, but it was still so desolate within the most busily trafficked part of the University during the middle of the day. It was an unreal sensation to look around and see absolutely nobody where usually people moved in flowing throngs.
With the pipe lifted and ready to swing, Evan made his way around the corner, witnessing the zombie producing a harsh tug upon the door's handle. Evan watched its futile, almost clumsy attempts, still rattling the glass door within its frame against the lock. For one thing, it was definitely persistent. The thing still fixed its gaze on those inside, distracted. It was about a hundred feet away.
Like before, nothing seemed wrong with the man apart from his behavior. He was a regular Caucasian about forty years old and bald. He was short and a bit chubby, but otherwise he looked healthy. From this side, it wasn't even possible to see the small blood stain on the front shoulder of the grey suit he wore. He still produced that unnerving, groaning snarl, almost sounding frustrated with the door's refusal to budge.
Evan planned on using the momentum of the zombie's own run against it. But he didn't want to make any more noise than necessary, lest he unexpectedly attract another one of the things. Carefully, he crept about twenty feet closer. There was a very slight incline in Evan's favor, which would help to knock the thing down once the fight began.
The zombie twisted its head towards Evan during another failed attempt to rattle the door open and suddenly released the handle. It began its charge almost immediately after sighting Evan, half stumbling as it appeared overly eager to begin its dash. For just a moment the zombie seemed like it would topple, but it somehow managed to regain its balance and continue charging.
Evan gripped the pipe so tightly it felt like his fingers would hurt as the zombie came for him. He waited until the last possible moment to react and suddenly sprung to the right. At the same time Evan swung the steel pipe against the side of the zombie's head, its momentum bringing its head right into the line of the swing. A heavy crack reverberated back through the pipe as the blow connected.
Off balance, the figure crashed to the ground, its suit and skin scuffed as it rolled across the pavement of the sidewalk. Taking advantage of the tumble away from him, Evan shifted to the zombie's extremities and brought his blunt implement down onto the lower right leg with a sick crunch.
Reacting to his proximity the zombie tried to lunge for Evan's leg, but in the attempt it had to completely twist its body. Evan easily jumped away as it made the attempt, leaving its open mouth hammering on the solid walkway. Evan winced, glimpsing a bit of a shattered tooth skidding across the pavement and out of sight. Even knowing what he was doing, that was a little hard to watch, it almost made his own teeth hurt.
Slowly circling around, Evan moved onto the slightly higher ground as the zombie pushed itself back to its feet. Scrapes and tears were now covering several places on its hands and face, and its blank stare looked right towards him as it rose, seemingly without result from the injured leg or the severe blow to the head.
The zombie advanced on him again, its arms outstretched, moving with a slightly uneven gait. It had slowed down in response to the strikes against its body, but not by much. Though this time, instead of attempting to tackle Evan it was trying to grasp him directly. Without thinking about the change in strategy, Evan reacted on his own.
Given Evan's greater reach with the pipe, he made a strike downwards on one arm and sent the thing tumbling onto its face again. Quickly, Evan moved around the side of the thing and down hill, taking an easy strike at the uninjured other leg with a carefully aimed swing. With the zombie unable to lunge like it had before, Evan had time to deliver another weighted blow to the same place without danger, hearing a sickening wet crack of presumably bone snapping.
As Evan moved away the zombie tried to stand again, but fell down the first time it tried. It was now bleeding from several deep injuries all over and its suit was badly torn. There were growing red markings on its legs where Evan had targeted his attacks. Satisfied with the results, Evan returned to the front door of Blackwood dorm and gave the observers pressed up against the glass a thumbs up to indicate the task was complete.
From their vantage point it was doubtful they could have seen much of the fight. With no visible signs of danger, Jorge opened the door quickly and let Evan back inside.
The length of old pipe given to Evan felt heavier than it looked, giving him the confidence that it would not break easily. It was unfortunate it was the best option available, but it was not like it wasn't still better than nothing. He had done a little sparring with similar implements before, but had never needed to use such methods before in genuine self defence. Taking a deep breath, he gripped the heavy pipe firmly in both hands and gave it a slow swing to test its balance.
Blackwood dormitory was laid out in the shape of a capital 'L', with the common room occupying the first floor of the shorter side of the structure. The longer part of the building faced the park blocks, where Evan's target was trying to get inside. Across the broad, empty walkway, the library stood tall, the edges of the structure lined with tall bushes. To the right, there was a broad open field for soccer or football and a grassy hill. To the left, there was the path leading towards the side of the Sanders building and its adjoining structure.
Evan turned to the left, advancing in a slow, meticulous walk. He edged away from the building cautiously, thinking about the inarticulate, almost clumsy charging exhibited by the zombies so far. He fully expected the thing to charge him when it saw he was outside the building. If so, he would be ready for that. The only real problem would be if he had to deal with more than one.
Creeping carefully away from the door while actively watching for movement, Evan kept his thoughts focused on his surroundings. Surveying the adjacent areas from the rooftop before coming down here was important, but he still had to be aware. A man easily could run several blocks in the time he took to arrive here. Chances were good that it wouldn't be clear for long, even if it was still safe right now.
Evan had almost hoped to see another lurching figure from the rooftop, because then the operation would have been too risky to attempt. Still, someone had to do this while they had the chance. It was the responsible thing to do in order to prevent the spread of the disease. After all, someone had to sort this thing out, or at least prevent it from getting any worse than it already was.
Passing the last barred window on the first floor of the dorm, Evan edged up to the corner of the building. He could hear the eerie groans and snarls of the thing clawing futilely at the door. Aside from the desolate breeze of the cold wind blowing through empty branches and the occasional bird call, it was the only notable sound.
Doing one last check of his surroundings and mentally preparing himself for the task ahead, a sense of dread washed over Evan. He knew people were inside these buildings, but it was still so desolate within the most busily trafficked part of the University during the middle of the day. It was an unreal sensation to look around and see absolutely nobody where usually people moved in flowing throngs.
With the pipe lifted and ready to swing, Evan made his way around the corner, witnessing the zombie producing a harsh tug upon the door's handle. Evan watched its futile, almost clumsy attempts, still rattling the glass door within its frame against the lock. For one thing, it was definitely persistent. The thing still fixed its gaze on those inside, distracted. It was about a hundred feet away.
Like before, nothing seemed wrong with the man apart from his behavior. He was a regular Caucasian about forty years old and bald. He was short and a bit chubby, but otherwise he looked healthy. From this side, it wasn't even possible to see the small blood stain on the front shoulder of the grey suit he wore. He still produced that unnerving, groaning snarl, almost sounding frustrated with the door's refusal to budge.
Evan planned on using the momentum of the zombie's own run against it. But he didn't want to make any more noise than necessary, lest he unexpectedly attract another one of the things. Carefully, he crept about twenty feet closer. There was a very slight incline in Evan's favor, which would help to knock the thing down once the fight began.
The zombie twisted its head towards Evan during another failed attempt to rattle the door open and suddenly released the handle. It began its charge almost immediately after sighting Evan, half stumbling as it appeared overly eager to begin its dash. For just a moment the zombie seemed like it would topple, but it somehow managed to regain its balance and continue charging.
Evan gripped the pipe so tightly it felt like his fingers would hurt as the zombie came for him. He waited until the last possible moment to react and suddenly sprung to the right. At the same time Evan swung the steel pipe against the side of the zombie's head, its momentum bringing its head right into the line of the swing. A heavy crack reverberated back through the pipe as the blow connected.
Off balance, the figure crashed to the ground, its suit and skin scuffed as it rolled across the pavement of the sidewalk. Taking advantage of the tumble away from him, Evan shifted to the zombie's extremities and brought his blunt implement down onto the lower right leg with a sick crunch.
Reacting to his proximity the zombie tried to lunge for Evan's leg, but in the attempt it had to completely twist its body. Evan easily jumped away as it made the attempt, leaving its open mouth hammering on the solid walkway. Evan winced, glimpsing a bit of a shattered tooth skidding across the pavement and out of sight. Even knowing what he was doing, that was a little hard to watch, it almost made his own teeth hurt.
Slowly circling around, Evan moved onto the slightly higher ground as the zombie pushed itself back to its feet. Scrapes and tears were now covering several places on its hands and face, and its blank stare looked right towards him as it rose, seemingly without result from the injured leg or the severe blow to the head.
The zombie advanced on him again, its arms outstretched, moving with a slightly uneven gait. It had slowed down in response to the strikes against its body, but not by much. Though this time, instead of attempting to tackle Evan it was trying to grasp him directly. Without thinking about the change in strategy, Evan reacted on his own.
Given Evan's greater reach with the pipe, he made a strike downwards on one arm and sent the thing tumbling onto its face again. Quickly, Evan moved around the side of the thing and down hill, taking an easy strike at the uninjured other leg with a carefully aimed swing. With the zombie unable to lunge like it had before, Evan had time to deliver another weighted blow to the same place without danger, hearing a sickening wet crack of presumably bone snapping.
As Evan moved away the zombie tried to stand again, but fell down the first time it tried. It was now bleeding from several deep injuries all over and its suit was badly torn. There were growing red markings on its legs where Evan had targeted his attacks. Satisfied with the results, Evan returned to the front door of Blackwood dorm and gave the observers pressed up against the glass a thumbs up to indicate the task was complete.
From their vantage point it was doubtful they could have seen much of the fight. With no visible signs of danger, Jorge opened the door quickly and let Evan back inside.
Monday, April 14, 2014
Hypothesis
Normally, Lucas wasn't very motivated to learn about the biological sciences, instead preferring the precision inherent in physics or astronomy. But the possibility of knowing just how long the zombies might last before collapsing was rather exciting, and motivated his initial searching upon the Internet.
Originally, he had arrived at his conjecture via a hazy memory of a snippet of science he had either read or heard somewhere. Now he was perusing websites to recover that tidbit of crucial information so he could predict how long the crisis would last. Muscles required oxygen to work, but just how much they needed and how long they could last without it was unknown.
Whether the zombies would last for hours or days, Lucas wanted to have some sort of answer in mind before he returning to the people downstairs. Even in the worst case scenario- if his conjecture was wrong and the zombies still had a functioning circulatory system- Lucas figured they would grow weaker after a few days with no water just like a normal person would.
Possibly sooner because they seemed to be expending an awful lot of energy to move. And were probably working up a sweat in doing so. Lucas didn't watch the zombie at the front door for long, but from what he did see of it and others in videos so far had made them look extremely energetic. All that energy had to come from somewhere. And it had to run out eventually.
After skimming a few sources, Lucas found the science he had been interested in. Muscles used a chemical called ATP in order to move, which was created by mitochondria using oxygen. From what he could tell, ATP didn't seem to be stored and was used as soon as it was made. That meant that the body needed a constant supply of oxygen in order to make more ATP. That was the reason why vigorous exercise would lead to an increase in heart rate. More activity meant more ATP was needed.
But there was another way to make ATP when oxygen was scarce. Since the zombie with the missing arm couldn't be relying on oxygen carried in its blood, Lucas figured this had to be what was going on in order for it to remain active. According to the sources, this second method left acids and other byproducts in the muscle tissue, making muscles less effective over time. Although the websites didn't appear to be certain, this was also explained to be the reason muscles would eventually ache and sting after exercising for a while.
Using this basic knowledge, Lucas figured there was now a simple way to provide a rough estimate for zombie longevity. Assuming that they didn't have a heartbeat, it seemed reasonable to Lucas to assume that they would grow weaker in the time it took someone to start feeling exhaustion from a constant run. After a little longer, it seemed reasonable that they would collapse completely.
Lucas would feel worn down after a couple minutes of solid running, but he knew that he wasn't in the best of shape either. He speculated that it would be something that would vary at least a little according to the individual's fitness level. Although without blood supplying oxygen and removing the buildup of byproducts that point should really occur sooner in a zombie than it would in a person. That meant that absent a pulse or blood, a zombie's lifespan would probably be measured in minutes, rather than hours.
Thinking back to what he had learned of the outbreak from the news and other sources, Lucas reluctantly concluded that if they did not have a beating heart, then most of the original outbreak victims should have been rendered motionless by now. That meant that their hearts must still be working. The conclusion was a little disappointing and made Lucas feel silly about initially assuming they all would have no pulse. He couldn't really do anything with what he had read, but he at least felt some kind of assurance in having access to the science.
Luckily for the person trapped in that car, the zombie missing its arm and a good deal of its blood would have certainly grown weaker and stopped moving by now. If she really had been moving around for ten minutes before the recording had begun, then she probably couldn't have lasted for much longer. Maybe. Lucas attempted to find the video again to see if it eventually resulted in that outcome.
After a few minutes without success, it occurred to Lucas that there was a zombie right outside the front door of the dorm. Supposedly, blood loss should be capable of rendering it harmless within minutes. If only he could figure out a way to do that. Standing up from his computer, and pacing about his room, Lucas mumbled. "Too bad there isn't a safe way to test it."
Lucas decided to head downstairs again. He dug around for his glasses, wiped them off and locked his door on the way out.
Originally, he had arrived at his conjecture via a hazy memory of a snippet of science he had either read or heard somewhere. Now he was perusing websites to recover that tidbit of crucial information so he could predict how long the crisis would last. Muscles required oxygen to work, but just how much they needed and how long they could last without it was unknown.
Whether the zombies would last for hours or days, Lucas wanted to have some sort of answer in mind before he returning to the people downstairs. Even in the worst case scenario- if his conjecture was wrong and the zombies still had a functioning circulatory system- Lucas figured they would grow weaker after a few days with no water just like a normal person would.
Possibly sooner because they seemed to be expending an awful lot of energy to move. And were probably working up a sweat in doing so. Lucas didn't watch the zombie at the front door for long, but from what he did see of it and others in videos so far had made them look extremely energetic. All that energy had to come from somewhere. And it had to run out eventually.
After skimming a few sources, Lucas found the science he had been interested in. Muscles used a chemical called ATP in order to move, which was created by mitochondria using oxygen. From what he could tell, ATP didn't seem to be stored and was used as soon as it was made. That meant that the body needed a constant supply of oxygen in order to make more ATP. That was the reason why vigorous exercise would lead to an increase in heart rate. More activity meant more ATP was needed.
But there was another way to make ATP when oxygen was scarce. Since the zombie with the missing arm couldn't be relying on oxygen carried in its blood, Lucas figured this had to be what was going on in order for it to remain active. According to the sources, this second method left acids and other byproducts in the muscle tissue, making muscles less effective over time. Although the websites didn't appear to be certain, this was also explained to be the reason muscles would eventually ache and sting after exercising for a while.
Using this basic knowledge, Lucas figured there was now a simple way to provide a rough estimate for zombie longevity. Assuming that they didn't have a heartbeat, it seemed reasonable to Lucas to assume that they would grow weaker in the time it took someone to start feeling exhaustion from a constant run. After a little longer, it seemed reasonable that they would collapse completely.
Lucas would feel worn down after a couple minutes of solid running, but he knew that he wasn't in the best of shape either. He speculated that it would be something that would vary at least a little according to the individual's fitness level. Although without blood supplying oxygen and removing the buildup of byproducts that point should really occur sooner in a zombie than it would in a person. That meant that absent a pulse or blood, a zombie's lifespan would probably be measured in minutes, rather than hours.
Thinking back to what he had learned of the outbreak from the news and other sources, Lucas reluctantly concluded that if they did not have a beating heart, then most of the original outbreak victims should have been rendered motionless by now. That meant that their hearts must still be working. The conclusion was a little disappointing and made Lucas feel silly about initially assuming they all would have no pulse. He couldn't really do anything with what he had read, but he at least felt some kind of assurance in having access to the science.
Luckily for the person trapped in that car, the zombie missing its arm and a good deal of its blood would have certainly grown weaker and stopped moving by now. If she really had been moving around for ten minutes before the recording had begun, then she probably couldn't have lasted for much longer. Maybe. Lucas attempted to find the video again to see if it eventually resulted in that outcome.
After a few minutes without success, it occurred to Lucas that there was a zombie right outside the front door of the dorm. Supposedly, blood loss should be capable of rendering it harmless within minutes. If only he could figure out a way to do that. Standing up from his computer, and pacing about his room, Lucas mumbled. "Too bad there isn't a safe way to test it."
Lucas decided to head downstairs again. He dug around for his glasses, wiped them off and locked his door on the way out.
Tuesday, April 8, 2014
Preparedness
The cool, crisp air outside was rather brisk. Carried upon the breezy winds, the distant wail of a car alarm was faintly audible. An occasional bird call broke the eerie, desolate calm lingering in the air. It was fairly warm for winter, and the sun's heat was welcome, but when the breeze became a heavy gust that rattled the branches of the nearby trees, it was still quite uncomfortable.
As Evan emerged into the mild winter air, he took a moment to zip up his tan jacket. Walking across the flat dormitory rooftop towards the side of the building near the park blocks he examined the ground level for any signs of movement. Blackwood dormitory was six floors high, so standing on the rooftop allowed him to see more of the immediate area than a view from one of the interior windows. Doing this to check the immediate area was what he did before he left the safety of his own dormitory to come here.
Approaching the raised edges of the rooftop, Jorge followed and spoke to Evan. "So what are you going to do?" Jorge was the Hispanic man with the impressive moustache. He had introduced himself after getting Victor, Simon and George to reluctantly agree to the proposed bargain of refuge for Robert. "Drop something heavy on it? Try to break its bones?"
"No." Evan examined the walkways and grass below for signs of movement, scanning up and down through the park blocks. "If someone dropped something from here, it could bounce into the door or a window and break it." He saw no movement down there save for the unwelcome guest still tugging and pushing at the locked door.
Across the intervening park blocks was the Sanders building, a stone and brick building with broad glass windows. Along the bottom floor on the right and left of a big double doorway, the windows looked into the cafeteria space for the university. Curious, Evan spared a moment to glance inside, but didn't see anyone at the windows of the first or second floor. Not that the angle he had would allow him to see very far into the rooms. Glare from the afternoon sun reflected from the windows, making it harder to see inside.
There was a small amphitheater placed in the block between the Blackwood and Sanders buildings. A small raised platform was close to the far left corner of the space, and at the lower point of a gentle slope that went uphill to the right. Dozens of long benches were placed on small steps and were arranged in a quarter circle around the raised platform. On warm days, sometimes a band would perform there or someone would come by to deliver a speech. Most days, people would just sit on the old wooden benches to eat lunch, read or talk to one another.
Walkways ran around the perimeter of the square patch of land. A few large and small trees along with manicured patches of grass dotted throughout the rest of the space. Luckily for Evan, it was pretty easy to see through the branches of the deciduous trees to the empty sidewalks below. He adjusted his view a little just to make sure nothing was hiding out of view, but confirmed the immediate area was devoid of activity except for the single zombie.
"So, what is it that you are planning to do?" Jorge followed Evan as he began to inspect the ground along the other sides of the building. Victor and Simon were there as well, but they were just watching Evan from the doorway that led back into the building. George had waited at the door to Esteban's room.
"First I'm checking to make sure the area is clear." Evan replied as he moved around the rooftop of the L shaped building. "I don't want to go outside and be surprised by more than I expect to see." As Evan circled around the building he did sight two other figures, trying to get into another building. They were in the opposite direction from the park blocks, on the other side of a small grassy hill and quite some distance away. They weren't anywhere near where he was planning to be.
Jorge followed Evan, speaking quietly as if the zombie on the ground might overhear him. "So how do you plan on killing it, then?"
"I'm not going to kill him. I'm just going to break his legs."
"How will that help?"
"He at least won't be able to run after people with broken legs." Evan replied as he surveyed the area between this building and the library. "There aren't any real weapons around here, are there?"
"I don't think so." Jorge replied. "Just what we've found laying around that seems like it would work."
"Has anyone checked through the empty rooms yet?"
"You mean going into peoples' rooms? I don't think so."
"Do you know how many people are even in the building? Has someone tried to count?"
Jorge shook his head in response.
"Well, someone might have left something useful in their room. We should look through the building and see what we can find." Evan thought back to his own dorm. Counting people and getting a good understanding of what was useful in the building had been the first thing they had done after the news broke. Out of those who listened to the suggestion and didn't immediately leave to go somewhere else, there were twenty seven.
A similar number would probably be holed up here. It wasn't likely that they were all hiding in the common room. "And as long as you're doing that, you should see how many people are in here. If we're going to be rescued by someone, they might want to know how many people there are to pick up."
Evan returned to the small square structure that led back inside, the entryway held open as Simon and Victor chatted briefly to each other. As Evan approached, the two stopped their conversation. "Are you ready now?" Victor asked, looking apprehensive.
"I think so. It looks mostly clear down there, but I still need to do this quick. What do you have for a weapon?" Evan asked as he passed between the two and made his way down the stairs. As they approached the first landing, Victor handed Evan a sturdy length of pipe. Evan tested the weight of it in his hands as he took the lead in the descent. "Well, it's better than nothing."
As Evan emerged into the mild winter air, he took a moment to zip up his tan jacket. Walking across the flat dormitory rooftop towards the side of the building near the park blocks he examined the ground level for any signs of movement. Blackwood dormitory was six floors high, so standing on the rooftop allowed him to see more of the immediate area than a view from one of the interior windows. Doing this to check the immediate area was what he did before he left the safety of his own dormitory to come here.
Approaching the raised edges of the rooftop, Jorge followed and spoke to Evan. "So what are you going to do?" Jorge was the Hispanic man with the impressive moustache. He had introduced himself after getting Victor, Simon and George to reluctantly agree to the proposed bargain of refuge for Robert. "Drop something heavy on it? Try to break its bones?"
"No." Evan examined the walkways and grass below for signs of movement, scanning up and down through the park blocks. "If someone dropped something from here, it could bounce into the door or a window and break it." He saw no movement down there save for the unwelcome guest still tugging and pushing at the locked door.
Across the intervening park blocks was the Sanders building, a stone and brick building with broad glass windows. Along the bottom floor on the right and left of a big double doorway, the windows looked into the cafeteria space for the university. Curious, Evan spared a moment to glance inside, but didn't see anyone at the windows of the first or second floor. Not that the angle he had would allow him to see very far into the rooms. Glare from the afternoon sun reflected from the windows, making it harder to see inside.
There was a small amphitheater placed in the block between the Blackwood and Sanders buildings. A small raised platform was close to the far left corner of the space, and at the lower point of a gentle slope that went uphill to the right. Dozens of long benches were placed on small steps and were arranged in a quarter circle around the raised platform. On warm days, sometimes a band would perform there or someone would come by to deliver a speech. Most days, people would just sit on the old wooden benches to eat lunch, read or talk to one another.
Walkways ran around the perimeter of the square patch of land. A few large and small trees along with manicured patches of grass dotted throughout the rest of the space. Luckily for Evan, it was pretty easy to see through the branches of the deciduous trees to the empty sidewalks below. He adjusted his view a little just to make sure nothing was hiding out of view, but confirmed the immediate area was devoid of activity except for the single zombie.
"So, what is it that you are planning to do?" Jorge followed Evan as he began to inspect the ground along the other sides of the building. Victor and Simon were there as well, but they were just watching Evan from the doorway that led back into the building. George had waited at the door to Esteban's room.
"First I'm checking to make sure the area is clear." Evan replied as he moved around the rooftop of the L shaped building. "I don't want to go outside and be surprised by more than I expect to see." As Evan circled around the building he did sight two other figures, trying to get into another building. They were in the opposite direction from the park blocks, on the other side of a small grassy hill and quite some distance away. They weren't anywhere near where he was planning to be.
Jorge followed Evan, speaking quietly as if the zombie on the ground might overhear him. "So how do you plan on killing it, then?"
"I'm not going to kill him. I'm just going to break his legs."
"How will that help?"
"He at least won't be able to run after people with broken legs." Evan replied as he surveyed the area between this building and the library. "There aren't any real weapons around here, are there?"
"I don't think so." Jorge replied. "Just what we've found laying around that seems like it would work."
"Has anyone checked through the empty rooms yet?"
"You mean going into peoples' rooms? I don't think so."
"Do you know how many people are even in the building? Has someone tried to count?"
Jorge shook his head in response.
"Well, someone might have left something useful in their room. We should look through the building and see what we can find." Evan thought back to his own dorm. Counting people and getting a good understanding of what was useful in the building had been the first thing they had done after the news broke. Out of those who listened to the suggestion and didn't immediately leave to go somewhere else, there were twenty seven.
A similar number would probably be holed up here. It wasn't likely that they were all hiding in the common room. "And as long as you're doing that, you should see how many people are in here. If we're going to be rescued by someone, they might want to know how many people there are to pick up."
Evan returned to the small square structure that led back inside, the entryway held open as Simon and Victor chatted briefly to each other. As Evan approached, the two stopped their conversation. "Are you ready now?" Victor asked, looking apprehensive.
"I think so. It looks mostly clear down there, but I still need to do this quick. What do you have for a weapon?" Evan asked as he passed between the two and made his way down the stairs. As they approached the first landing, Victor handed Evan a sturdy length of pipe. Evan tested the weight of it in his hands as he took the lead in the descent. "Well, it's better than nothing."
Sunday, April 6, 2014
Speculation
As Lucas recovered from his laughing fit, his thoughts began to turn towards what he should do. Removing himself from the affected area was probably out of the question. After all, the people shown on the news tried that and it didn't work for them. Plus they actually had the advantage of having some guns with them and he did not.
Even though he only knew for sure that there was one zombie nearby, Lucas figured that if there was one, there could be others. An escape attempt might draw the attention of others that he didn't know were in the area. The people Evan had let in were chased by a zombie when they attempted to escape, so that at least proved that some were in the area.
The normal world had slipped out from under him as Lucas had slept. The time for an escape, if it was feasible at all, would have probably been when this first began. Not that he had a car to use. He relied on public transit to get where he needed to go. Even if he could get there, Lucas doubted the trains would be running right now. Since this virus broke out, they were probably taken out of service almost right away.
Given what he knew, and since he wasn't all that good at running, Lucas decided he shouldn't leave to find another place to stay. That didn't mean it was entirely eliminated as an option. If he thought of something later on of where to go and what to do when he was there, it might prove to be a better idea than it seemed like at the moment.
Pacing around the room, Lucas began looking for what might be useful among the piles of paper, books and assorted food wrappers. He quickly concluded that he probably had nothing that would be incredibly useful in a fight. One of the people who ran into the building with the zombie in pursuit said that it couldn't bite through their coat. Lucas did have a pretty heavy coat; it was a detail he considered worth remembering.
As for food supplies, he did have some in his room; a couple cans of chili and an almost new case of cheap noodles. A bag of cheesy chips and some candies. There was also a case and a half of caffeinated soda he had bought to help him through finals week. Getting one can out, he opened it carefully and took a deep drink of the sweet, slightly stinging liquid as he thought about the situation.
The only real choice for now was to wait. Lucas sat on his bed and stared out the window at the bare trees and the shingled rooftop nearby. He didn't know what he would be waiting for. Someone to come by looking for survivors, he supposed. Even if the news started giving out detailed plans for rescues or other information, it wouldn't do him any good unless they came right up to the building and killed the zombie outside.
Of course there were more people in the building than just him. He didn't know how many of them kept food in their rooms, but he also suspected the building wasn't completely full. Probably a lot of people already left as soon as they heard about the outbreak, or they had already left for home or vacation after they were finished with their finals. Most people had wrapped up their finals earlier in the week.
The kitchen downstairs had cupboards and a refrigerator. Some people did keep things in them, pots or cooking supplies, but Lucas kept everything in his room. From people he had talked to who kept things downstairs, sometimes their things were used by others, but theft was pretty rare. The common room was supposed to only be open to people who lived in the building. Lucas kept a couple of clean utensils and a small cooking pot in his room instead of the kitchen.
"Okay, so what now?" Lucas spoke with a sigh. He stared out at a tree branch, spidery, and waving slightly in the breeze. Waiting for rescue might take a while, and in the meantime he would have to stay indoors. He considered loading a game on the computer for a while but didn't feel much like gaming at the moment. There wasn't much to do besides try to figure out what was happening.
Reluctantly, Lucas thought back to the grotesque video of the woman with the missing arm. A trickle of blood oozed down her side and the loss of the limb didn't seem to hinder her at all. Not even after a minute, and she had supposedly been like that for a while before the recording even began.
With the initial shock of the imagery, Lucas hadn't fully considered what the video really meant. If she had been active for several minutes with her arm off, then it meant she would have lost most of her blood. There were the obvious conclusions, of course, that these things really were the living dead, and they would be hard to kill. But it meant something else too. After all there were rules to the workings of the world.
The muscles in the body worked as well as they did because blood was constantly supplying new energy to them and helping to repair minor damage. These things didn't need their own blood to function, which was distressing, but without blood the cells of their bodies would gradually become more damaged and have less energy to use over time.
Further, the fact that the blood oozed out instead of coming in spurts seemed to indicate the heart was not beating. If all of their hearts were not beating, every zombie would have that problem. It wasn't something Lucas knew how to confirm in the one outside, but he thought it was a reasonable assumption.
This meant the zombies should eventually be left with weakened, damaged bodies incapable of moving and run out of energy to function. Lucas didn't know how long that would take, but suddenly, the prospect of waiting this out didn't seem as bad to him. Given enough time, the problem should sort itself out as long as nobody new got themselves infected.
Of course, there was a chance he was wrong. The possibility of being incorrect was both horrifying and a little exciting. Being wrong about this would have some startling implications. Unfortunately, the only way he had to find out if he was right would be to wait.
Even though he only knew for sure that there was one zombie nearby, Lucas figured that if there was one, there could be others. An escape attempt might draw the attention of others that he didn't know were in the area. The people Evan had let in were chased by a zombie when they attempted to escape, so that at least proved that some were in the area.
The normal world had slipped out from under him as Lucas had slept. The time for an escape, if it was feasible at all, would have probably been when this first began. Not that he had a car to use. He relied on public transit to get where he needed to go. Even if he could get there, Lucas doubted the trains would be running right now. Since this virus broke out, they were probably taken out of service almost right away.
Given what he knew, and since he wasn't all that good at running, Lucas decided he shouldn't leave to find another place to stay. That didn't mean it was entirely eliminated as an option. If he thought of something later on of where to go and what to do when he was there, it might prove to be a better idea than it seemed like at the moment.
Pacing around the room, Lucas began looking for what might be useful among the piles of paper, books and assorted food wrappers. He quickly concluded that he probably had nothing that would be incredibly useful in a fight. One of the people who ran into the building with the zombie in pursuit said that it couldn't bite through their coat. Lucas did have a pretty heavy coat; it was a detail he considered worth remembering.
As for food supplies, he did have some in his room; a couple cans of chili and an almost new case of cheap noodles. A bag of cheesy chips and some candies. There was also a case and a half of caffeinated soda he had bought to help him through finals week. Getting one can out, he opened it carefully and took a deep drink of the sweet, slightly stinging liquid as he thought about the situation.
The only real choice for now was to wait. Lucas sat on his bed and stared out the window at the bare trees and the shingled rooftop nearby. He didn't know what he would be waiting for. Someone to come by looking for survivors, he supposed. Even if the news started giving out detailed plans for rescues or other information, it wouldn't do him any good unless they came right up to the building and killed the zombie outside.
Of course there were more people in the building than just him. He didn't know how many of them kept food in their rooms, but he also suspected the building wasn't completely full. Probably a lot of people already left as soon as they heard about the outbreak, or they had already left for home or vacation after they were finished with their finals. Most people had wrapped up their finals earlier in the week.
The kitchen downstairs had cupboards and a refrigerator. Some people did keep things in them, pots or cooking supplies, but Lucas kept everything in his room. From people he had talked to who kept things downstairs, sometimes their things were used by others, but theft was pretty rare. The common room was supposed to only be open to people who lived in the building. Lucas kept a couple of clean utensils and a small cooking pot in his room instead of the kitchen.
"Okay, so what now?" Lucas spoke with a sigh. He stared out at a tree branch, spidery, and waving slightly in the breeze. Waiting for rescue might take a while, and in the meantime he would have to stay indoors. He considered loading a game on the computer for a while but didn't feel much like gaming at the moment. There wasn't much to do besides try to figure out what was happening.
Reluctantly, Lucas thought back to the grotesque video of the woman with the missing arm. A trickle of blood oozed down her side and the loss of the limb didn't seem to hinder her at all. Not even after a minute, and she had supposedly been like that for a while before the recording even began.
With the initial shock of the imagery, Lucas hadn't fully considered what the video really meant. If she had been active for several minutes with her arm off, then it meant she would have lost most of her blood. There were the obvious conclusions, of course, that these things really were the living dead, and they would be hard to kill. But it meant something else too. After all there were rules to the workings of the world.
The muscles in the body worked as well as they did because blood was constantly supplying new energy to them and helping to repair minor damage. These things didn't need their own blood to function, which was distressing, but without blood the cells of their bodies would gradually become more damaged and have less energy to use over time.
Further, the fact that the blood oozed out instead of coming in spurts seemed to indicate the heart was not beating. If all of their hearts were not beating, every zombie would have that problem. It wasn't something Lucas knew how to confirm in the one outside, but he thought it was a reasonable assumption.
This meant the zombies should eventually be left with weakened, damaged bodies incapable of moving and run out of energy to function. Lucas didn't know how long that would take, but suddenly, the prospect of waiting this out didn't seem as bad to him. Given enough time, the problem should sort itself out as long as nobody new got themselves infected.
Of course, there was a chance he was wrong. The possibility of being incorrect was both horrifying and a little exciting. Being wrong about this would have some startling implications. Unfortunately, the only way he had to find out if he was right would be to wait.
Thursday, April 3, 2014
Mild Disagreement
The tension in the room melted away as the uncomfortable discussion of Robert's potential infection was gradually replaced with the group talking about what news they could get from Esteban's computer. The details were still quite sparse; a frustrating situation for people who had little to do but wait.
According to the reports online, the military was dealing with the infected by shooting them in the head. It still wasn't recommended that people try so themselves, but as a means of defense if escape was not a feasible option. Additionally, there were some plans to send military into the impacted areas, but the specific details were still vague at this point. Still, they could perhaps look forwards to rescue in a day or so.
Hearing the sound of approaching footfalls coming from the hallway, Evan spoke up. "I think the others have come looking for us. Lock the door after I leave." Without waiting for confirmation, he opened the door a crack and slipped out into the hallway. A moment later, there was an audible click.
The hallway was well lit and wide enough for a couple of people to comfortably walk through alongside each other. The walls were sparse white and very textured with the occasional smudge upon them. Doors were adorned with printouts and posters, indicating the person who was assigned that room. The floor was composed of hard, undecorative slabs of concrete, but clean apart from some dust lingering along the sides.
Evan turned to the left, where four people were approaching in a group, holding various blunt implements. They held them at their side, but were not wielding them aggressively. Simon was in the lead along with a red haired guy Evan didn't know. Behind them was the thin black man from the initial confrontation with Simon, and a short Hispanic Evan didn't recognize.
Simon spoke as he approached Evan enter the hallway. "We can't have a potential zombie hiding somewhere in the building. Send Rob out."
"We're taking care of it." Evan replied as the group came to a halt about fifteen feet away. "I had a talk with him, and he agrees that if he starts feeling sick he'll tell us."
"We had a vote, and decided he can stay for now. But he should be somewhere we can all make sure he's not sick." Simon declared with scorn, his own vote in the matter obvious from the tone of his voice. The section of pipe he held in his right hand tapped against the side of his meaty leg while he spoke. His heavy black and blue sweater barely fit over his bulky frame.
"That's very good to hear, but he is already being watched." Evan didn't quite trust the group currently assembled not to just force the guy out of the back door at their first opportunity. Not with Simon in charge, at least. After all, he was willing to let all three be attacked and called them idiots for being outside in the first place. "If he starts being sick, we'll let everyone know about it."
"They shouldn't even be in here." The red haired man beside Simon spoke with a surprisingly deep voice. He was fairly athletic in appearance and about six feet tall, but next to Simon, he looked small. His face was very lightly shadowed with short red facial hair. He wore a heavy black leather trench coat and had a short, clipped hairstyle. Like most of the residents of the building, he appeared to be in his early twenties. "They brought the zombie right to our front door and because you let them in, it's trying to get us now."
"If I didn't let them in, we would probably have four of them out there right now instead of just one." Evan stood firm beside the door. Inside, he could tell that the discussion of the news had ended. They were listening to the confrontation instead.
"They weren't even heading towards us." The athletic man countered. "They would have run off and led it somewhere else and we'd still be okay."
"Every person who gets infected makes us more likely to get infected ourselves because it makes the problem worse." Evan could tell some of the group were a little uncertain of their initial conviction. "Right now, that zombie outside isn't biting anyone. It's harmless to us as long as it's just at that locked door and not somewhere else infecting more people."
A shorter Hispanic man who had been quiet until now slipped by the two larger men in the hallway to address Evan. "It could still run off and bite other people, though." He had a rather impressive moustache for someone his age. He wore a vibrant red shirt and dark black pants. The line between the two articles of clothing was distinguished by a thick brown belt. Hair was drawn back into a long ponytail but elsewhere on his head, he looked to be showing early signs of baldness.
"Yes, it could." Evan admitted, and thought about it for a moment. "Which is why we should see if there's anything we can do to take care of it before it goes off and bites someone else who's outside."
"You can do that if you want." Simon stubbornly shook his head. "But we're not here for that, we're here to get the guy who was bitten so everyone in the building will be able to watch him."
"Wait, maybe we should let him do that." The man with the impressive moustache said as he turned towards the rest of the group. "Have him take care of that zombie in exchange for letting this guy stay up here. After all, it's not like any of them would want to be trapped in a room with him if he does become one. What do you think, Victor?"
The red haired man in the trench coat, presumably Victor, frowned and shook his head with a long sigh before replying with a shrug. "Yeah, I guess that's okay." The skinny black guy lingering in the back simply nodded once their attention naturally fell on him.
Simon scowled, glaring over his companion's shoulder at Evan as the Hispanic man with the moustache spoke for the group. "Well, then it's agreed. You find a way to get rid of that zombie, and we'll let Rob stay in there for now."
According to the reports online, the military was dealing with the infected by shooting them in the head. It still wasn't recommended that people try so themselves, but as a means of defense if escape was not a feasible option. Additionally, there were some plans to send military into the impacted areas, but the specific details were still vague at this point. Still, they could perhaps look forwards to rescue in a day or so.
Hearing the sound of approaching footfalls coming from the hallway, Evan spoke up. "I think the others have come looking for us. Lock the door after I leave." Without waiting for confirmation, he opened the door a crack and slipped out into the hallway. A moment later, there was an audible click.
The hallway was well lit and wide enough for a couple of people to comfortably walk through alongside each other. The walls were sparse white and very textured with the occasional smudge upon them. Doors were adorned with printouts and posters, indicating the person who was assigned that room. The floor was composed of hard, undecorative slabs of concrete, but clean apart from some dust lingering along the sides.
Evan turned to the left, where four people were approaching in a group, holding various blunt implements. They held them at their side, but were not wielding them aggressively. Simon was in the lead along with a red haired guy Evan didn't know. Behind them was the thin black man from the initial confrontation with Simon, and a short Hispanic Evan didn't recognize.
Simon spoke as he approached Evan enter the hallway. "We can't have a potential zombie hiding somewhere in the building. Send Rob out."
"We're taking care of it." Evan replied as the group came to a halt about fifteen feet away. "I had a talk with him, and he agrees that if he starts feeling sick he'll tell us."
"We had a vote, and decided he can stay for now. But he should be somewhere we can all make sure he's not sick." Simon declared with scorn, his own vote in the matter obvious from the tone of his voice. The section of pipe he held in his right hand tapped against the side of his meaty leg while he spoke. His heavy black and blue sweater barely fit over his bulky frame.
"That's very good to hear, but he is already being watched." Evan didn't quite trust the group currently assembled not to just force the guy out of the back door at their first opportunity. Not with Simon in charge, at least. After all, he was willing to let all three be attacked and called them idiots for being outside in the first place. "If he starts being sick, we'll let everyone know about it."
"They shouldn't even be in here." The red haired man beside Simon spoke with a surprisingly deep voice. He was fairly athletic in appearance and about six feet tall, but next to Simon, he looked small. His face was very lightly shadowed with short red facial hair. He wore a heavy black leather trench coat and had a short, clipped hairstyle. Like most of the residents of the building, he appeared to be in his early twenties. "They brought the zombie right to our front door and because you let them in, it's trying to get us now."
"If I didn't let them in, we would probably have four of them out there right now instead of just one." Evan stood firm beside the door. Inside, he could tell that the discussion of the news had ended. They were listening to the confrontation instead.
"They weren't even heading towards us." The athletic man countered. "They would have run off and led it somewhere else and we'd still be okay."
"Every person who gets infected makes us more likely to get infected ourselves because it makes the problem worse." Evan could tell some of the group were a little uncertain of their initial conviction. "Right now, that zombie outside isn't biting anyone. It's harmless to us as long as it's just at that locked door and not somewhere else infecting more people."
A shorter Hispanic man who had been quiet until now slipped by the two larger men in the hallway to address Evan. "It could still run off and bite other people, though." He had a rather impressive moustache for someone his age. He wore a vibrant red shirt and dark black pants. The line between the two articles of clothing was distinguished by a thick brown belt. Hair was drawn back into a long ponytail but elsewhere on his head, he looked to be showing early signs of baldness.
"Yes, it could." Evan admitted, and thought about it for a moment. "Which is why we should see if there's anything we can do to take care of it before it goes off and bites someone else who's outside."
"You can do that if you want." Simon stubbornly shook his head. "But we're not here for that, we're here to get the guy who was bitten so everyone in the building will be able to watch him."
"Wait, maybe we should let him do that." The man with the impressive moustache said as he turned towards the rest of the group. "Have him take care of that zombie in exchange for letting this guy stay up here. After all, it's not like any of them would want to be trapped in a room with him if he does become one. What do you think, Victor?"
The red haired man in the trench coat, presumably Victor, frowned and shook his head with a long sigh before replying with a shrug. "Yeah, I guess that's okay." The skinny black guy lingering in the back simply nodded once their attention naturally fell on him.
Simon scowled, glaring over his companion's shoulder at Evan as the Hispanic man with the moustache spoke for the group. "Well, then it's agreed. You find a way to get rid of that zombie, and we'll let Rob stay in there for now."
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
Moment of Hysteria
The Internet was awash with speculative conjecture, and Lucas skimmed over several websites to eagerly learn what he could. Many people proposed wild ideas to explain the epidemic, but none were very believable, from alien invasion to the wrath of petty gods. Not that it was believable in the first place. Doctors were already carefully studying the infected, but they had nothing to say about it so far except what the news had already stated. Only head injuries were effective on the infected.
According to other reports, emergency military action was going to be used to evacuate people in several regions, including the Portland area. There were websites for the emergency crisis, but they generally just contained warnings to stay inside and thoroughly boil water before use.
As he had first come into the room, Lucas searched for his cell phone and ignored the dozens of voice mails he had been left. He called up friends and family to tell them he was okay and wasn't thinking of going outside for a while. As he had talked to them he booted his computer and had begun looking for news.
Now alone, Lucas searched online for any evidence he could for what was happening. Obviously, nobody knew much yet, but there had to be some indication, somewhere. He had been perusing several sites, trying to find something more definite. It apparently wasn't a worldwide epidemic, though the western coast of the US were among the hardest hit. Lucas felt a growing tension as he learned more, but apparently all of his friends and family were okay.
Thinking to the only marginally injured, infected man downstairs trying to open the door, Lucas began to wonder if these creatures were really something like a zombie, or people who were infected with some form of rabies. He found his answer before long in the form of a cell phone video shot by someone taking refuge in a car. Lucas felt a chill run through his blood as he watched.
In the video, a woman with one arm was pressing against the door of a car. Where the other arm had been, a broad trail of blood ran down her side and a good amount of it smeared the window. The door handle rattled and shook as the creature labored and tugged in a futile effort to gain entry to the locked vehicle. Its snarls were muted through the glass as a man spoke with a heavy texan accent. "As you can see, the arm's off, but she's still moving. She's been doing that for about ten minutes now."
Lucas stared at it until he felt like he was going to throw up. There were several more minutes left of the video, but he couldn't stand the grotesque imagery for any longer. It was one thing to see gore in a movie, but knowing it was real was a whole other experience. It was at once less extreme, while being more visceral.
At one point in his search for information, Lucas came across a website claiming to have a cure for the zombie disease. "Same day delivery!" proclaimed a flashing banner at the top of the screen. Testimonials proclaiming the effectiveness of the cure were plastered all over the page. As Lucas read through the extraordinary claims, he broke up into a fit of hysterical laughter when he chanced upon another banner depicting someone grinning as they pushed a medicine capsule into their mouth. "Tastes great!"
"So you not only get to live, but you get a tasty treat as well!" Lucas laughed again at the ridiculous advertisement. A dead customer couldn't complain about a fraudulent product or a slow delivery. It was really the perfect kind of customer. As if anyone was really dumb enough to believe a deliveryman was going to run around delivering anti-zombification pills.
Lucas got up to pace back and forth a few times, trying to calm himself. When that didn't work, he gazed out of the window of his room. The walkway below was wide like a city street but this area of the university campus was away from the normal roads of Portland. Instead of sidewalks, the edges of the road were lined with grass and bushes and an occasional big tree. The paved area passing between the strips of greenery was for pedestrians, instead of vehicles. The building across from him had several skeletal trees around it, their leaves shed for the winter phase of their life.
Lucas didn't know what that nearby structure was for, but he thought it was an administration office or something like that. There was a sign in front of it pointed towards the park blocks, but he had never bothered to read it. It seemed just like a big, two story, old house with fancy looking windows, steps leading to a front porch and an angled, shingled rooftop. It was painted grey with beige trim and stood out very much compared to the bigger, obvious school buildings on the campus. Since his room was only on the second floor, Lucas couldn't see over the roof of that building.
Nobody was visible outside, not even a zombie, and the day was clear and sunny. To use his computer, Lucas had brushed the papers and the pizza boxes that had been balanced upon his computer onto the floor in a sloppy mess. This was a slow-motion apocalypse, and so far it was far cleaner than his own room. The zombies were fast but everyone he knew was still okay. Phones and electricity were working just fine, but nobody in the dorm evidently had a gun they could kill the zombie outside with. The appearance was suddenly in many places, but it wasn't worldwide. The situation was absurd.
In some places, people might not even know this was happening yet, or not even believe it. If someone was out in the ocean on a cruise they would probably survive for a while. Maybe for some people, today was just another routine day. It's just that the news got really strange. And constant.
A thought suddenly occurred to Lucas that somewhere out there, someone was inevitably complaining that their regular television shows were being pre-empted by more liberal media conspiracy nonsense. That brought him into uproarious laughter again, a fit that lasted for several more minutes before he recovered completely.
According to other reports, emergency military action was going to be used to evacuate people in several regions, including the Portland area. There were websites for the emergency crisis, but they generally just contained warnings to stay inside and thoroughly boil water before use.
As he had first come into the room, Lucas searched for his cell phone and ignored the dozens of voice mails he had been left. He called up friends and family to tell them he was okay and wasn't thinking of going outside for a while. As he had talked to them he booted his computer and had begun looking for news.
Now alone, Lucas searched online for any evidence he could for what was happening. Obviously, nobody knew much yet, but there had to be some indication, somewhere. He had been perusing several sites, trying to find something more definite. It apparently wasn't a worldwide epidemic, though the western coast of the US were among the hardest hit. Lucas felt a growing tension as he learned more, but apparently all of his friends and family were okay.
Thinking to the only marginally injured, infected man downstairs trying to open the door, Lucas began to wonder if these creatures were really something like a zombie, or people who were infected with some form of rabies. He found his answer before long in the form of a cell phone video shot by someone taking refuge in a car. Lucas felt a chill run through his blood as he watched.
In the video, a woman with one arm was pressing against the door of a car. Where the other arm had been, a broad trail of blood ran down her side and a good amount of it smeared the window. The door handle rattled and shook as the creature labored and tugged in a futile effort to gain entry to the locked vehicle. Its snarls were muted through the glass as a man spoke with a heavy texan accent. "As you can see, the arm's off, but she's still moving. She's been doing that for about ten minutes now."
Lucas stared at it until he felt like he was going to throw up. There were several more minutes left of the video, but he couldn't stand the grotesque imagery for any longer. It was one thing to see gore in a movie, but knowing it was real was a whole other experience. It was at once less extreme, while being more visceral.
At one point in his search for information, Lucas came across a website claiming to have a cure for the zombie disease. "Same day delivery!" proclaimed a flashing banner at the top of the screen. Testimonials proclaiming the effectiveness of the cure were plastered all over the page. As Lucas read through the extraordinary claims, he broke up into a fit of hysterical laughter when he chanced upon another banner depicting someone grinning as they pushed a medicine capsule into their mouth. "Tastes great!"
"So you not only get to live, but you get a tasty treat as well!" Lucas laughed again at the ridiculous advertisement. A dead customer couldn't complain about a fraudulent product or a slow delivery. It was really the perfect kind of customer. As if anyone was really dumb enough to believe a deliveryman was going to run around delivering anti-zombification pills.
Lucas got up to pace back and forth a few times, trying to calm himself. When that didn't work, he gazed out of the window of his room. The walkway below was wide like a city street but this area of the university campus was away from the normal roads of Portland. Instead of sidewalks, the edges of the road were lined with grass and bushes and an occasional big tree. The paved area passing between the strips of greenery was for pedestrians, instead of vehicles. The building across from him had several skeletal trees around it, their leaves shed for the winter phase of their life.
Lucas didn't know what that nearby structure was for, but he thought it was an administration office or something like that. There was a sign in front of it pointed towards the park blocks, but he had never bothered to read it. It seemed just like a big, two story, old house with fancy looking windows, steps leading to a front porch and an angled, shingled rooftop. It was painted grey with beige trim and stood out very much compared to the bigger, obvious school buildings on the campus. Since his room was only on the second floor, Lucas couldn't see over the roof of that building.
Nobody was visible outside, not even a zombie, and the day was clear and sunny. To use his computer, Lucas had brushed the papers and the pizza boxes that had been balanced upon his computer onto the floor in a sloppy mess. This was a slow-motion apocalypse, and so far it was far cleaner than his own room. The zombies were fast but everyone he knew was still okay. Phones and electricity were working just fine, but nobody in the dorm evidently had a gun they could kill the zombie outside with. The appearance was suddenly in many places, but it wasn't worldwide. The situation was absurd.
In some places, people might not even know this was happening yet, or not even believe it. If someone was out in the ocean on a cruise they would probably survive for a while. Maybe for some people, today was just another routine day. It's just that the news got really strange. And constant.
A thought suddenly occurred to Lucas that somewhere out there, someone was inevitably complaining that their regular television shows were being pre-empted by more liberal media conspiracy nonsense. That brought him into uproarious laughter again, a fit that lasted for several more minutes before he recovered completely.
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
Isolation
Esteban's quarters were just like any other room in the building. There was enough space for a bed, a desk with a computer upon it and a couple chairs. After the group had entered and the door was locked, Robert and Minoko accepted the offer of a seat on Esteban's pristine bedsheets. Evelyn sniffled occasionally and turned the chair to sit beside them, next to the computer desk, and Casilda sat on the remaining chair, next to the small, tightly sealed window. The room was unusually tidy for a college dorm, decorated with a couple of posters and a simple wooden cross.
Evan remained beside the entrance, letting other people pass him and find a place to sit. Leaning against the wall beside the door, he listened for sounds of approach as Esteban invited the others to make themselves comfortable. "Sorry for the lack of seats." The man said to Evan.
"That's okay. I prefer to stand." Evan replied with a keen ear focused for the sounds of footfalls in the hallway. He didn't expect the group downstairs to wait for long before someone came to see where they had gone. Nor did he expect they would not know where to look. As far as Evan knew, Estaban and Casilda were the only two residents of this particular building in their little group.
"Okay, so what do we do now?" Minoko asked hesitantly.
"Nothing we can do but wait for the government to sort this all out, right?" Esteban looked around at the few people gathered with him, his voice uncertain.
"I meant about the people downstairs." Minoko leaned against Robert as they sat beside one another. "Are they going to let us stay?"
"They should. But first, we wait until they calm down a little." Evan said as he casually leaned against the door. "Like it or not, we're probably going to be stuck with each other for a little while, and that means we're going to have to learn to get along."
"Let's hope the others see it that way." Casilda spoke with a note of skepticism in her voice. Her english was not quite as good as Esteban's, but she was still easy to understand. Her left hand nervously played with her long ponytail, twirling it around along her shoulder.
There was a moment of awkward silence. After several seconds passed, Robert spoke up. "So, are these really zombies? Or is this some kind of rabies?"
"I don't know. The news isn't calling them zombies, but everyone else seems to be." Evan offered with a shrug. He glanced to the desktop computer, then catching Esteban's attention, motioned to it with one hand. "I've been busy since this started, maybe they know more about this virus now."
Taking the cue, Esteban nodded. "Go ahead and turn on the computer." Evelyn reluctantly turned in the chair and tentatively turned the computer on. The desktop device hummed and beeped as it began its booting process. "At least we still have power." Esteban added.
"For now." Robert said sullenly. The color of his skin did look a lot better than their initial meeting, but from the way he looked, Evan could tell his thoughts were lingering upon the bite injury. "But how long do you think it will stay working?"
"Probably as long as there's people to run it." Evan considered another point and shrugged. "It's not like just having those things outside will destroy the electrical wiring. Also, anyone figuring out how to deal with this probably would know keeping the power on is very important. So they would send help there first to make sure it keeps running."
"But if the wires get damaged or something shorts out, there won't be anyone to fix it." Robert sighed, hanging his head down, his voice flat as he touched the bandage on his hand. "Either way, if we lose power, I don't think we're going to be able to get help. I thought we could maybe get out of the city before that big mob headed over this way, but just one of those things came at us and chased us away."
"Maybe." Esteban looked down at the walkway between this building and the university library. Evan couldn't see it, but he knew the streets surrounding the sides of the building weren't so much a street as they were broad sidewalks between the two structures. Across the way, the university library stood, its window blinds drawn tightly shut. One window on the third floor stood open.
"Anyway, we're going to have to figure out the best way to deal with this situation on our own if we can." Evan hated to say it, but it was the responsible thing to do and someone needed to broach the subject. "That means, Robert, if you're starting to feel ill, even just a little, you're going to have to let us know about it."
Robert swallowed, and nodded nervously. He took a slow, steady breath of air. "Okay. What will you do if it..." He trailed off, unable to complete the thought.
"I don't really know how yet, but if you get really sick we'll have to work out a way to tie you down. Keep you restrained, so you won't be able to bite someone else. That way, everyone will be safe until you get better." Evan paused for a second, then added to his thought. "And as far as we know, this thing could just be something that goes away on its own after a day or two."
Robert appeared to not really buy into the idea, but Evan at least felt better having raised the possibility. The truth was, nobody really knew what was going on.
Evan remained beside the entrance, letting other people pass him and find a place to sit. Leaning against the wall beside the door, he listened for sounds of approach as Esteban invited the others to make themselves comfortable. "Sorry for the lack of seats." The man said to Evan.
"That's okay. I prefer to stand." Evan replied with a keen ear focused for the sounds of footfalls in the hallway. He didn't expect the group downstairs to wait for long before someone came to see where they had gone. Nor did he expect they would not know where to look. As far as Evan knew, Estaban and Casilda were the only two residents of this particular building in their little group.
"Okay, so what do we do now?" Minoko asked hesitantly.
"Nothing we can do but wait for the government to sort this all out, right?" Esteban looked around at the few people gathered with him, his voice uncertain.
"I meant about the people downstairs." Minoko leaned against Robert as they sat beside one another. "Are they going to let us stay?"
"They should. But first, we wait until they calm down a little." Evan said as he casually leaned against the door. "Like it or not, we're probably going to be stuck with each other for a little while, and that means we're going to have to learn to get along."
"Let's hope the others see it that way." Casilda spoke with a note of skepticism in her voice. Her english was not quite as good as Esteban's, but she was still easy to understand. Her left hand nervously played with her long ponytail, twirling it around along her shoulder.
There was a moment of awkward silence. After several seconds passed, Robert spoke up. "So, are these really zombies? Or is this some kind of rabies?"
"I don't know. The news isn't calling them zombies, but everyone else seems to be." Evan offered with a shrug. He glanced to the desktop computer, then catching Esteban's attention, motioned to it with one hand. "I've been busy since this started, maybe they know more about this virus now."
Taking the cue, Esteban nodded. "Go ahead and turn on the computer." Evelyn reluctantly turned in the chair and tentatively turned the computer on. The desktop device hummed and beeped as it began its booting process. "At least we still have power." Esteban added.
"For now." Robert said sullenly. The color of his skin did look a lot better than their initial meeting, but from the way he looked, Evan could tell his thoughts were lingering upon the bite injury. "But how long do you think it will stay working?"
"Probably as long as there's people to run it." Evan considered another point and shrugged. "It's not like just having those things outside will destroy the electrical wiring. Also, anyone figuring out how to deal with this probably would know keeping the power on is very important. So they would send help there first to make sure it keeps running."
"But if the wires get damaged or something shorts out, there won't be anyone to fix it." Robert sighed, hanging his head down, his voice flat as he touched the bandage on his hand. "Either way, if we lose power, I don't think we're going to be able to get help. I thought we could maybe get out of the city before that big mob headed over this way, but just one of those things came at us and chased us away."
"Maybe." Esteban looked down at the walkway between this building and the university library. Evan couldn't see it, but he knew the streets surrounding the sides of the building weren't so much a street as they were broad sidewalks between the two structures. Across the way, the university library stood, its window blinds drawn tightly shut. One window on the third floor stood open.
"Anyway, we're going to have to figure out the best way to deal with this situation on our own if we can." Evan hated to say it, but it was the responsible thing to do and someone needed to broach the subject. "That means, Robert, if you're starting to feel ill, even just a little, you're going to have to let us know about it."
Robert swallowed, and nodded nervously. He took a slow, steady breath of air. "Okay. What will you do if it..." He trailed off, unable to complete the thought.
"I don't really know how yet, but if you get really sick we'll have to work out a way to tie you down. Keep you restrained, so you won't be able to bite someone else. That way, everyone will be safe until you get better." Evan paused for a second, then added to his thought. "And as far as we know, this thing could just be something that goes away on its own after a day or two."
Robert appeared to not really buy into the idea, but Evan at least felt better having raised the possibility. The truth was, nobody really knew what was going on.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)