Origins of the Outbreak Read online

  “Dammit!” she shouted in frustration. She didn't have a wall charger, but she did have a car charger sitting twenty feet away.

  Not gonna hurt anything. No one's around anyways, she told herself and walked around the counter. It wouldn't do her any good to have a totally dead cell phone battery, so she'd charge it for an hour or so and then go back out to get it if the shop was still slow.

  The wind blew hard against the doors and when she opened them a gust of air filled the seating area. It smelled like rain and… something else. It wasn't a pleasant smell, but she was sure that she'd smelled it before, even if she couldn't quite place what it was. The morning sky was dark and clouds rolled rapidly past. The weatherman had called for rapid, violent thunderstorms that would be in and out in a matter of minutes.

  “Great!” she muttered. History taught her that people usually didn't brave the heavy rainstorms for coffee, so she was sure that the place would remain totally empty now.

  The first few heavy raindrops began to fall and she jogged to her car. The barista sat down inside and plugged her phone into the charging line that ran from her cigarette lighter. Luckily she didn't smoke, so she had no need of the lighter and was able to leave the charger plugged in so she wouldn't lose it.

  The rain began to really pound against the top of her carand she thought she saw a potential customer walking across the parking lot towards the store. Guy sure doesn't care about getting wet, she thought and opened her car door, running back inside. The cool air conditioning made her wet clothes feel cold against her skin so she ducked into the back and pulled on the Starbucks jacket that they had for the people who worked the drive thru on cold days.

  She emerged from the back to see the man standing by the front door, staring inside. She waved at him to let him know that the coffee shop was open and he threw himself into the glass.

  “Holy shit!” she screamed. The guy pulled back and launched himself once more. The echo of his body hitting the glass drowned out the easy-listening selection that the shop played over the intercom system.

  He was really freaking her out and she suddenly remembered that the door was unlocked. She rushed around the counter again and sprinted to the door as fast as her chubby legs would carry her.

  The guy kicked it into high gear and started banging the glass with both hands when he saw her running. Then he shifted to his right, following her path and she fell forward into the glass door. He pushed hard against it and only her weight kept the thing closed. Why did the builder have to make the door open inward? she cried to herself.

  Amy reached up and with considerable effort was able to twist the lock. She collapsed against the door until she became aware of a scraping noise coming from right beside her head. She looked up into the gaping mouth of the man as he bit against the glass, right where the back of her head would have been sitting.

  “What the fuck is wrong with you?” she yelled. Amy knew that he could hear her through the glass, the same way that she was able to hear his teeth scraping against it.

  Another loud thud against the opposite window made her twist her head around. A woman pawed desperately on the glass in an attempt to get inside. The woman was covered in blood, huge gashes across her neck and arms exposed corded muscle beneath the skin. A black crusty substance on her skin mingled with the rain and the mixture oozed from her body like a bad sci-fi movie prop.

  Another thud and then another announced the arrival of several more of the zombies. Amy didn't want to believe, but the evidence stared at her and threatened to break the coffee shop's glass. The stories online had been true! There was a fucking zombie outbreak in Killeen!

  How could this be happening? It was scientifically impossible for something that was dead to reanimate and begin moving around, intent on attacking others. She was pre-med; she knew this for a fact. Almost immediately upon death, degeneration begins on the cellular level and then rapidly expands. Everything shuts down. There was no way that this was feasible… Yet, here she was, trapped at work by these things.

  She staggered her way behind the counter and ducked down to hide from sight, but it was too late. Within minutes the few creatures had grown to a massive crowd. They drew one another by sight and sound, hoping to get a tasty morsel before the flesh died and became unbearable. The coffee shop's lights, shining brightly in the darkness of the thunderstorm, also brought more creatures from far and wide.

  Eventually, the pressure of all those bodies pressed up against the glass was too great, even for the impact-resistant material. It splintered and then shattered completely, sending ragged shards of glass in all directions. Creatures fell inward on top of one another and then began to claw their way to where they'd seen her disappear.

  Amy screamed and opened the drive thru window to escape. The top half of her body made it out, but her hips became lodged in the narrow opening. While most of the creatures pressed themselves stupidly against the counter, two of them figured out how to go through the employee opening and shuffled around to where the juicy treat struggled to get through the window.

  She heard the zombies moving around the employee area behind her and pulled back out of the window. She glanced around and realized that she’d allowed herself to get trapped behind the counter. With all the creatures in the lobby, the only way out was through the tiny window to the drive thru. She picked up a large push broom and shoved hard against the two that made it around the counter and hey fell backwards.

  Amy knew that she had one shot to get away, so she dived through the window. The added momentum ensured that her hips became lodged. She wiggled and tried to worm her way through, but she was completely stuck and couldn’t move forward or backward. She yelled for help into the empty parking lot with no response.

  The barista screamed in earnest as long strips of muscle from her hamstrings were pulled away by dull teeth. The pain was worse than anything she'd ever imagined. Thankfully, a few dozen creatures stumbled around the side of the building and her suffering came to an abrupt end as they ripped her head from her body in their efforts to get a tasty morsel before it soured.

  The Firefighter, 6:31 a.m.

  Truck 12 from Pflugerville's Fire and Rescue roared down the road with sirens blaring and the driver's hand pressed firmly against the horn. There were reports of a massive vehicle pileup less than three miles from the firehouse and Truck 12 would likely be the first responder besides a few State Troopers.

  Bailey sat in the jump seat directly behind the driver. Her responsibility was to be the first out of the truck and begin assessing the injuries while the other two firefighters gathered medical kit bags and the driver found a safe place to park. She lived for this.

  Immediately after graduating from the University of Texas at Austin, Bailey had gone to work for corporate America out in California. She loved the beaches and the laid-back lifestyle outside of work, but absolutely hated the twelve-hour grind every day of the week just to ensure that the company made whatever lofty goal that the board of directors had assigned for that quarter from up on high. It was mind-numbing work and she felt herself slipping away into obscurity a little more each day. The only thing that kept her sane was the high intensity workouts that she squeezed in during the lunch hours.

  One day she'd finally had enough. Enough of the rat race. Enough of living in paradise without being able to experience it. And, most importantly, enough of greedy, dirty old men who only wanted to keep her around as window dressing in the offices without actually giving her a shot at moving up.

  So she quit no notice. She didn't even bother to tell them that she wasn't coming to work anymore, she just stopped going. Her parents knew how miserable she was, so they paid to have her furniture moved back to Austin and she went to school to become a paramedic. When the time came to begin applying for jobs, she decided to give the fire department a shot and found that she loved it. While not as strong as most of the men in her class, her physical stamina put everyone else to shame and she passed the te
sts without any problems. She was hired on at the Pflugerville Fire Department as an EMT at the end of the training.

  That was more than four years ago and she still loved every minute of her job. Even the tedious tasks like washing the engine and changing filters in their masks brought joy to her heart. She knew that everything she did was for a reason and those simple tasks allowed the firefighters to help others in need.

  Her department was put on warning yesterday to be prepared to assist in Belton with a mass casualty event. They were keyed up all day, but the order to actually go never came. The crew ate a hasty dinner and eventually settled down to a restless night's sleep in the firehouse.

  In the morning, they'd expected the call to travel to Belton, but instead they were alerted for the multi-vehicle crash along the I-35. They'd dropped their forks on the breakfast table and thrown on their gear. The men and women of Truck 12 were out the door and rolling towards the scene in less than two minutes.

  As was typical for their dispatch, they didn't know the size or complexity of the accident when they loaded up so they were prepared for the worst. They usually received an updated situation report en route to the scene, but they were so close to the accident site that they stumbled upon the pileup before their dispatcher could gather any details.

  Truck 12 topped the overpass on the access road and as they began to head down the opposite side from the bridge, the accident spread out before them. It was massive. A tractor trailer stretched across all four lanes of southbound traffic. It looked like the trailer had jackknifed at seventy-five miles per hour and then rolled several times. At least fifteen cars had slammed into each other and people wandered around the accident site in a daze. Some sat against the concrete barriers that separated the flow of traffic while others lay in the grass beside the road.

  As they came up to the scene, Bailey counted twelve people, some of whom looked like they may have been traveling together. Not good, that meant there were a lot more who were trapped… Or worse.

  Patrick, the crew chief, wasted no time grabbing the hand mike and requesting backup. Then he started calling in the details of what he could see as the truck rolled towards the accident. For her part, Bailey unstrapped the aid bag from beside her and unclipped her seatbelt. She knew that Patrick would yell at her later about the seatbelt, but now wasn't the time. She'd heard it a hundred times from him and she could already envision the reprimand, If we got in an accident before we stopped, you could get hurt and then every person in this community that relies on us to help keep them safe would be in jeopardy. Keep your seatbelt on until the truck comes to a stop!

  She didn't do it to be blatantly disobedient, but the fact remained in her mind that taking the seatbelt off early and ensuring that none of her gear was tangled in the straps meant that she could get to her patients faster. In the medical business life or death could be measured in a matter of seconds. She slipped on a double pair of examination gloves and waited for the truck to come to a stop.

  As soon as Cliff tapped the brakes her door was open and she hit the ground running. The first vehicle she came to was empty with minor damage to the front end. It was likely that the driver had time to react and slow down enough to escape any major injuries. The next car was worse off and the front had completely collapsed in the crumple zones along the fenders. It was empty as well, so she figured that the passengers must be part of the small crowd on the sides of the accident.

  The next car she came to had a man pressed against the back of his seat by the steering column. She reached a hand in to take his pulse, but she couldn't feel anything. He was a goner, probably crushed his heart or lungs, killing him instantly. Bailey moved quickly over to a pickup truck, empty.

  She repeated the process for all seventeen vehicles in the pileup, but no one was trapped. At the speed that the accident occurred, all of the people that she found inside their vehicles were already dead. Her unofficial tally was nine dead, no telling how many injured. She relayed the info to Patrick, who called it in, and then began to triage the walking wounded.

  The next hour was spent in conjunction with paramedics from the local hospital as they rushed the more seriously wounded off to the regional medical centers and bandaged those who didn't need to go to the hospital.

  When most of her patients were treated, a police officer called her over and said, “Looks like we found the culprit.”

  She shook her head, not understanding what he was talking about. “What?” she asked.

  “We interviewed the trucker. He said a woman stepped out in front of his truck and he jerked the steering wheel to avoid hitting her. That's how he ended up jackknifing across traffic.”

  “Oh. So you say that you've found her?”

  “Well, pieces of her. Most of her body is in pieces too small to really count, but we found an arm and both legs. Plus, the head. Damnedest thing is that she was wearing a pair of handcuffs!”

  “Yeah, that's pretty strange,” Bailey agreed. She needed to get back to work.

  “Hey, miss. You got a minute to look at something for me?”

  She looked around at the other paramedics attending to patients and nodded. “What's wrong?”

  “I feel silly even bringing it up, but it hurts like hell.”

  She sighed and said, “Let me see it. I can probably tell you what you've picked up, but you'll have to go to the clinic for medication.”

  “Huh? Oh geez, I ain't got an STD! Somehow when I was scraping up the pieces of that lady, my hand got into her mouth and I'd swear that she bit me!”

  “Okay… Let's see what you've got officer.” Is this guy crazy? A detached head didn't bite him. He likely got a scrape on his pinkie and now he's worried about cooties.

  The cop began to unwrap the makeshift bandage that he had around his fingers. “Damn thing bled like you wouldn't believe at first, then it just suddenly stopped.”

  She watched as he unwrapped and commented, “That's strange.” God, I could be helping someone who really needs it, not Twee –

  Bailey's derogatory thought caught in her mind when she saw the damage done to the cop's hand. “Holy shit! How long ago did that happen?”

  “About ten minutes ago. Jesus, it looks bad. It didn't look like that when I bandaged it.”

  There were clear bite marks across his first three fingers. The skin had turned black and swollen like bratwurst left on the grill too long. Large greasy stings of fat could be seen beneath the skin where the woman's teeth had broken through.

  “The tissue in your hand is dying. It's like… Shit, hold on!” Bailey dug through her kit bag until she found the tourniquet and placed it two inches below his elbow. She tightened it down with practiced efficiency and checked for a pulse in his wrist. There wasn't one.

  “Okay, the tourniquet's on. We need to get you to the hospital before that spreads anymore.”

  “What is it, doc?”

  “I don't know. It advanced visibly just while I was looking at your fingers. See how it's spreading into your hand?” she pointed at the skin on the back of his hand. It had darkened and turned an ashen gray since he'd removed the bandages.

  The paramedic pulled her radio off her hip and called Patrick. When her supervisor arrived, she said, “We need to get him to a hospital ASAP.”

  They loaded him up in the first available ambulance and sent him to Seton Northwest Hospital. “What was that all about?” Patrick asked.

  “I don't know. He told me that they found the body of the woman who walked out in front of the tractor trailer.”

  “Yeah, I heard that. They already got her cleaned up and put in a bag.”

  “So, she was in a lot of pieces?” Bailey asked.

  “She got hit by a semi going seventy miles per hour,” Patrick replied as he stared blankly at her. “There wasn’t much left. Why?”

  “I don’t know. Something’s not right,” she muttered.

  Patrick sighed and threw up his hands. “I’ll tell you what’s not right,
Bailey. We’ve got a whole bunch of blood to clean up off the highway and you’re playing detective – again – while the three of us do all the work. Leave it for the cops and get to work.”

  “I’m sorry, Patrick,” she answered. Bailey hadn’t thought of how the rest of her crew viewed her when she tried to assist the police with things; she was just interested in understanding the causes of all the accidents that they worked. “Ok, let’s get this place cleaned up.”

  “Now you’re talking. I want to get back in time to grill that chicken tonight instead of ordering pizza.”

  Bailey nodded, “You’re the boss, Patrick.”

  The crew from Truck 12 spent the next two hours on the scene assisting the multiple tow truck drivers as they hauled vehicles away. When a car was moved, they sprayed the pavement with water and bleach and scrubbed everything with stiff-bristled push brooms to wash away the blood stains.

  Once the final vehicle was hauled up onto the tow truck’s flatbed, they found an arm pressed against the trailer. “Hey, Patrick!” she called over to her crew chief, who stood twenty feet away leaning heavily on his scrub brush in exhaustion.

  “Yeah, what’s up?” he asked.

  “Here’s that lady’s arm,” she pointed towards the appendage as Patrick walked over slowly.

  “Hmm, that’s a lot of bruising. Normally you don’t see that on a severed appendage because of the blood loss….”

  “Wait a minute,” Bailey said in alarm. “Are those teeth marks on her arm?”

  Patrick bent down and looked at it. “Hmpf, maybe.”

  “Shit, come on,” she said and pulled on his jacket.

  “Hey, where are we going?”

  “We need to check out that body bag with the rest of her.”

  Patrick stopped and held up his hands. “What the hell is wrong with you, Bailey? You've been acting strange since you helped that cop.”

  She turned and gestured towards the retreating ambulance. “He said that the woman bit him when he was cleaning up the pieces.”