100 Days in Deadland (Deadland Saga, #1)(3)
Several worried employees had already left for home to pick up their kids from school. And now, not even three hours after lunch, half of the office was going ape-shit crazy on each other. Whatever was going on, it felt like I was caught in the middle of Ground Zero for some seriously screwed up shit.
I focused on breathing in and out. I reached for the radio and fumbled with the knob. I wrung my shaking hands, wiped them on my black pants, but they kept shaking.
Alan cranked up the volume, and I noticed his hands were shaking even worse.
“Reports are coming in from Kansas City, Des Moines, and Minneapolis of a fast-spreading pandemic. Seek shelter immediately and avoid contact with anyone infected. The infected will display violent tendencies and attack without provocation. They do not respond to reason,” an unfamiliar even-toned woman reported. “If you or a loved one is infected, you should quarantine yourself immediately so as not to spread the virus. Do not go to the hospitals as they are at full capacity. Stay tuned for more information.”
“That’s it?” Alan asked. “That’s all those idiots have to say about this thing? Nothing like how it’s transmitted, or what we can do to protect ourselves?”
“Give it time,” I said. The news last night had shown footage of random people attacking others without provocation, but I’d assumed the attacks were the result of some new illegal drug gone bad. The idea of a pandemic made my jaw clench.
My dad was a doctor. My mom was a nurse.
My parents, early-retiree snowbirds, lived in a southern suburb of Des Moines. With me as their only child, they kept their house in town for the warmer months while moving to Arizona every winter. I prayed that they were safe at home, that they didn’t think to go help out at the hospital. I had to believe they saw the news this morning and knew better than to get caught in the middle of some off-the-charts violent pandemic.
I wanted to call them to make sure they were all right, but my phone was tucked into my bag, which was still sitting in a drawer at my cubicle. I looked over at Alan. “Can I use your phone?”
He felt his pockets and then frantically swerved around a fender bender before shooting through a red light. Sirens blared as a police car sped past us.
“I think it’s still on my desk,” Alan replied in between panting breaths.
“This is crazy,” I said. “Everyone’s gone crazy.”
“It’s got to be a terrorist attack,” he said. “Chemical warfare or something that’s making people go nuts. It’s like they’re jacked up on serious shit like bath salts or something. Damn it!” He swerved again. “This traffic is insane.” He turned to me, his glasses slipping down his sweaty nose. “You live on the north side, right?”
I nodded. “Yeah, why?”
“I’m way out on the east side. Mind if we hit your place until the roads open up?” His voice cracked and he wiped his face.
“Sure.” I scrutinized him. “Are you okay?”
He grabbed the wheel with both hands. “No, I’m not okay! What about today would make you think that I’m okay? That anything’s okay? It’s World War III out there. No, it’s worse than that. It’s like the end of the world out there!”
I got it, I really did. The proverbial shit had hit the fan, and the rational part of my mind had decided to curl up in the fetal position. “We got out early,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster. “Hopefully we can beat the worst of the traffic.”
As though on cue, a car veered in front of us and rammed into the concrete separating the lanes. “Watch out!” I shouted as Alan cranked the wheel, nearly sideswiping the vehicle. I could’ve sworn the driver looked in the same bad way that Melanie had. The SUV behind us wasn’t so lucky because it rammed into the jackknifed car and started a domino-effect pile-up behind us.
Alan and I stared at each other, and he stepped on the gas.
In the background, the radio station had switched to interviewing people outside one of the hospitals.
“I thought the kid was lost. I bent down to help, and the little bugger bit me! Can you believe that? The kid damn near took my thumb clean off! He went nuts, like he had rabies or something. And now they won’t let me into the hospital. They’ve got barricades in front of the doors, and cops are in full riot gear, just standing around everywhere. I’m stuck outside bleeding, and no one is telling us what’s going on. We have a right to know!”
“You think you got it bad?” another male voice chimed in. “You should’ve been downtown. This old bum attacked a woman. I saw it all. He was stumbling around all drunk-like, and then he just attacked. He went straight for that poor gal’s throat like he thought he was a vampire or something. A couple guys tried to pull him off her, but he wouldn’t let go. I jumped in to help, and he tore a chunk out of my arm. He wouldn’t stop. Some guy had to shoot him. Can you believe it? It was insane, man. What’s the world coming to?”
My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest, and I found myself on the verge of hyperventilating. I punched in another radio station, only to find the same barrage of stories. No one had any useful information, just more of those horrific tales. I leaned back, tried to tune out the radio, and focused on the traffic outside. With every mile, the number of vehicles on the side of the road increased. Some cars were in pileups, others looked like they had stopped haphazardly, as though their drivers had decided to simply stop driving.