Behind aVeil of Darkness Book One
Dave Tyra
Chapter One
1st Night:
I had already earned enough credits at the local community college to transfer to one of the California State Universities, but I could take seventy units with me, so why pay three times the cost per credit at a CSU when I could get them for less at a community college? I've heard all the arguments about how much better the university professors are and it's bullshit. The whole time I attended Community College I had four professors who had Master Degrees and did not have Doctorates in their fields. Let's examine a parallel; you attend a CSU or UC university in your freshman year and you are taking a History Survey class. You will see your professor, who has a doctorate in history, the first day of class where he/she introduces their aide, or aides, and takes roll call. Your class of one hundred, to three hundred students, may never see your professor again as the aides perform the lectures, make assignments, and grade tests which are either multiple choice, true or false, or a combination of the two. Second example, you are a freshman attending a community college and you are taking a History Survey class. More than likely, your professor will have a Doctorate, he/she will lecture the class, make assignments, grade your tests, and your class size will be about thirty students. Your professor will know your name, and your face. Because of the small class size, open discussion about the topics being studied is welcome and expected. Who gets the better educational experience, the CSU/UC student, or the community college student?
Sorry, just something that bothers me about the idiocy of believing State University students and faculty were better than community colleges.
I was taking a Spring Semester biology course, which met once a week for three hours and forty-five minutes, 6 pm to 9:45 pm, on Wednesday nights. Early spring can be nice in Southern California, still a bite in the air at night, but nothing a sweatshirt can't handle. I arrived twenty minutes early the way I normally do and sat on the sidewalk outside the classroom, smoking and chatting with my fellow classmates as they arrived.
A lot of the students are younger than my twenty-eight years and for the most part I don't have much to do with them, but like most community colleges there are a lot of older people too. I was talking with Mitch Dugan and America Hernandez when Esmeralda Lopez joined us. Mitch is in his late 60s, Caucasian, small, and wiry with a full head of white hair styled in a crew cut, probably a holdover from his days in the Marines. America, we just called her Mer, was Hispanic, thirty-five, kind of heavy-set, with a Mexican accent, and as sweet as they come. She came to the U.S. illegally ten years before and went to work cleaning houses around the Upland and Rancho Cucamonga areas. She said she was going to school for two reasons: to someday get a job teaching, and to set an example for her children.
"Hey Mike. Hi Mitch. Hi Mer."
"Hey Essie," I said as she gingerly crouched down to lay her textbook and folder next to me. The bar she worked at allowed her to time off to attend class, but not enough for her to go home and change from her work attire. She was wearing a white blouse unbuttoned enough to display the cleavage of her ample breasts and an overly tight mini-skirt, which was a little too mini; thus the careful crouch to drop her books. Essie is real honest to god eye candy. 5'9", or 10", she was tall with what I considered a curvaceous, but athletic build. Her hair was long and so dark brown you could say it was black and she had this marvelous peaches and cream skin. Younger than me, maybe twenty-two, or three, but the real killer was her eyes; they were a magnificent pale blue that could take your breath away. I wasn't in love with her, but I knew if we spent some time together I probably would be in short order. I guess I was in lust with her, but she once told me she felt comfortable around me because I didn't hit on her, maybe someday.
Essie pulled her long hair back and restrained it with a rubber band as Mer buttoned three more buttons of her blouse for her. "Thanks Mer."
America said a couple of choice words in Spanish then followed up in English, "Men. They make women dress like this for their entertainment."
I kept my mouth shut because I knew Mer had a pretty rough time with the men in her past. Besides, it was a routine she and Essie went through every week. Mer didn't approve of the clothes Essie's employer made her wear and frankly I didn't either.
"It's alright Mer," she said. "I get really good tips and most of the time the customers keep their hands to themselves, and, you're making Mitch and Mike uncomfortable when you make derogatory generalizations about men, right guys?"
I didn't say anything; I just smiled. Mitch though, jumped on it. "Are you kidding me? If I were forty years younger I'd chase you around the block twice before I gave up. No, three times."
Mitch is one of those people, who are pretty rough around the exterior, but he has a heart of total gold, instead of jokingly threatening to call his wife like she usually did, Essie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She looked tired, almost haggard.
"Hey," I said. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she hesitated. "No, no I'm not. There's this regular comes in everyday between buses on his way home. Usually has one drink over about a half hour then catches his bus home. Real nice older man I've talked to some, you know? Well, he comes in today and he has a bandage on his forearm, so I asked him what happened. He said a guy at his office went crazy and bit him. Anyway, he finishes his drink like usual, but he doesn't leave, he just sits there. I went over and asked if he wanted another drink, but he looks really bad, like sick. I asked him if he was okay, but he didn't answer, just sort of mumbled something and then fell face first onto the table. When I touched him he was really hot, so we called the paramedics and when they arrived they put him on their gurney and strapped him down really tight and took him away. Before they left, one of them asked if any of the bar's employees, or customers had been bitten and after we all said no, they left."
While I was listening to her story I had gotten up and retrieved her books. Holding them out to her because it was almost time for class I commented, "Wow, that's kind of weird. Did they say what was wrong with him?"
"No, they just took him away."
Mitch was quiet for a moment, but then asked, "Did any of you see the report on Fox News about the disease outbreak in the Middle-East?"
I shook my head no, so did Mer and Essie.
"It was about a disease, which seemed to be spread by direct body fluid exchange; it caused the infected to become extremely violent and try to bite other people. I've been looking for any other reports about it because I thought it might be useful for class discussion, but I haven't been able to find anything besides the one little blurb."
I nodded, "Yeah, a severe bite would involve the exchange of body fluids, blood and saliva. Ask the professor when he gets here."
Everyone agreed and we filed into the classroom stopping at the front desk and checking off our names. I scanned down the sheet of paper until I found my name, Michael Moore, and checked the box in front of it. Then joined Mitch, Essie, and America at the table we normally shared.
I had already earned enough credits at the local community college to transfer to one of the California State Universities, but I could take seventy units with me, so why pay three times the cost per credit at a CSU when I could get them for less at a community college? I've heard all the arguments about how much better the university professors are and it's bullshit. The whole time I attended Community College I had four professors who had Master Degrees and did not have Doctorates in their fields. Let's examine a parallel; you attend a CSU or UC university in your freshman year and you are taking a History Survey class. You will see your professor, who has a doctorate in history, the first day of class where he/she introduces their aide, or aides, and takes roll call. Your class of one hundred, to three hundred students, may never see your professor again as the aides perform the lectures, make assignments, and grade tests which are either multiple choice, true or false, or a combination of the two. Second example, you are a freshman attending a community college and you are taking a History Survey class. More than likely, your professor will have a Doctorate, he/she will lecture the class, make assignments, grade your tests, and your class size will be about thirty students. Your professor will know your name, and your face. Because of the small class size, open discussion about the topics being studied is welcome and expected. Who gets the better educational experience, the CSU/UC student, or the community college student?
Sorry, just something that bothers me about the idiocy of believing State University students and faculty were better than community colleges.
I was taking a Spring Semester biology course, which met once a week for three hours and forty-five minutes, 6 pm to 9:45 pm, on Wednesday nights. Early spring can be nice in Southern California, still a bite in the air at night, but nothing a sweatshirt can't handle. I arrived twenty minutes early the way I normally do and sat on the sidewalk outside the classroom, smoking and chatting with my fellow classmates as they arrived.
A lot of the students are younger than my twenty-eight years and for the most part I don't have much to do with them, but like most community colleges there are a lot of older people too. I was talking with Mitch Dugan and America Hernandez when Esmeralda Lopez joined us. Mitch is in his late 60s, Caucasian, small, and wiry with a full head of white hair styled in a crew cut, probably a holdover from his days in the Marines. America, we just called her Mer, was Hispanic, thirty-five, kind of heavy-set, with a Mexican accent, and as sweet as they come. She came to the U.S. illegally ten years before and went to work cleaning houses around the Upland and Rancho Cucamonga areas. She said she was going to school for two reasons: to someday get a job teaching, and to set an example for her children.
"Hey Mike. Hi Mitch. Hi Mer."
"Hey Essie," I said as she gingerly crouched down to lay her textbook and folder next to me. The bar she worked at allowed her to time off to attend class, but not enough for her to go home and change from her work attire. She was wearing a white blouse unbuttoned enough to display the cleavage of her ample breasts and an overly tight mini-skirt, which was a little too mini; thus the careful crouch to drop her books. Essie is real honest to god eye candy. 5'9", or 10", she was tall with what I considered a curvaceous, but athletic build. Her hair was long and so dark brown you could say it was black and she had this marvelous peaches and cream skin. Younger than me, maybe twenty-two, or three, but the real killer was her eyes; they were a magnificent pale blue that could take your breath away. I wasn't in love with her, but I knew if we spent some time together I probably would be in short order. I guess I was in lust with her, but she once told me she felt comfortable around me because I didn't hit on her, maybe someday.
Essie pulled her long hair back and restrained it with a rubber band as Mer buttoned three more buttons of her blouse for her. "Thanks Mer."
America said a couple of choice words in Spanish then followed up in English, "Men. They make women dress like this for their entertainment."
I kept my mouth shut because I knew Mer had a pretty rough time with the men in her past. Besides, it was a routine she and Essie went through every week. Mer didn't approve of the clothes Essie's employer made her wear and frankly I didn't either.
"It's alright Mer," she said. "I get really good tips and most of the time the customers keep their hands to themselves, and, you're making Mitch and Mike uncomfortable when you make derogatory generalizations about men, right guys?"
I didn't say anything; I just smiled. Mitch though, jumped on it. "Are you kidding me? If I were forty years younger I'd chase you around the block twice before I gave up. No, three times."
Mitch is one of those people, who are pretty rough around the exterior, but he has a heart of total gold, instead of jokingly threatening to call his wife like she usually did, Essie leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She looked tired, almost haggard.
"Hey," I said. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she hesitated. "No, no I'm not. There's this regular comes in everyday between buses on his way home. Usually has one drink over about a half hour then catches his bus home. Real nice older man I've talked to some, you know? Well, he comes in today and he has a bandage on his forearm, so I asked him what happened. He said a guy at his office went crazy and bit him. Anyway, he finishes his drink like usual, but he doesn't leave, he just sits there. I went over and asked if he wanted another drink, but he looks really bad, like sick. I asked him if he was okay, but he didn't answer, just sort of mumbled something and then fell face first onto the table. When I touched him he was really hot, so we called the paramedics and when they arrived they put him on their gurney and strapped him down really tight and took him away. Before they left, one of them asked if any of the bar's employees, or customers had been bitten and after we all said no, they left."
While I was listening to her story I had gotten up and retrieved her books. Holding them out to her because it was almost time for class I commented, "Wow, that's kind of weird. Did they say what was wrong with him?"
"No, they just took him away."
Mitch was quiet for a moment, but then asked, "Did any of you see the report on Fox News about the disease outbreak in the Middle-East?"
I shook my head no, so did Mer and Essie.
"It was about a disease, which seemed to be spread by direct body fluid exchange; it caused the infected to become extremely violent and try to bite other people. I've been looking for any other reports about it because I thought it might be useful for class discussion, but I haven't been able to find anything besides the one little blurb."
I nodded, "Yeah, a severe bite would involve the exchange of body fluids, blood and saliva. Ask the professor when he gets here."
Everyone agreed and we filed into the classroom stopping at the front desk and checking off our names. I scanned down the sheet of paper until I found my name, Michael Moore, and checked the box in front of it. Then joined Mitch, Essie, and America at the table we normally shared.
At precisely five minutes till six, Professor Brown walked into the room, looked over the attendance chart then placed it on top of his folder. Brown is shorter than my own five-seven and he's wiry like Mitch. He has longish hair, and a full beard, which he should trim a little more often than he does. I don't think I've ever seen him wear anything other than a tan and blue plaid shirt, brown or blue tie, tan Dockers and brown slip on loafers; he must have a closet full of the damn things. It's probably an unkind thing to say, but he reminded me of a squirrel, his movements were always quick and furtive and he looked as though he was ready to bolt at any moment. With that said. I liked him a lot; he was concerned about his students and would give you all the help you needed to succeed.
"Is there a party tonight? I see we are missing some of our little group." I hadn't noticed before, but he was right, maybe a third of the class was absent. Brown always locked the door at precisely 6:00 pm, so if you were in doubt about reaching class on time it was probably best to stay home because he would not let you in after the start of class. I was late once and spent the first hour and a half standing at the windows listening to his lecture. When break started, I entered and sat down at my regular seat where he informed me once I was marked absent, I was absent. I acknowledged I understood, but my feet were tired and I wanted to sit down. After class I noticed him change my status on the role sheet to present, but he didn't say anything. He was bit odd, but he wasn't a bad guy.
At precisely 6:00 o'clock he walked to the door and locked it, returned to the front of the class and sat on his desk. "Alright, what have you seen? What have you heard? What have you read?"
Each of Professor Brown's classes started the same way, the search for current events with applications to the class. It was an easy way to earn extra-credit and the four of us, Essie, Mitch, America, and I made full use of it. Mitch raised his hand.
"Mister Dugan."
"Professor Brown, last week on the news I caught a tidbit about an unknown disease in the Middle-East which apparently causes people to become extremely violent. Do you know anything about it? I haven't been able to find any further reference to it, even on the Internet."
There was a momentary hesitation before he answered. "Nope, I don't watch much television and I certainly do not watch a blatantly conservative format such as Fox News. Next?"
There was an alarm bell ringing in the back of my head. Brown always had something to say, always. Once in a great while if he was unaware of the topic he would assign the student with the question the task of finding out the information and presenting it to the class in the form of a two page essay. Easy extra credit and I had managed once to bring up a topic he was unaware of. Something was wrong this time, hesitation was out of character for him and he didn't offer Mitch the opportunity to write the essay. I knew from previous talks with Professor Brown he had worked with the Center for Disease Control for a while before he had a "disagreement" with his superiors and sought employment elsewhere. I also knew he had maintained contact with several friends who still worked there. The last thing, which set off the alarm bell? Mitch mentioned Fox News to the three of us outside before class, but not when he brought it up with the Professor. I raised my hand.
"Mister Moore."
I had a feeling I was about to over-step our faculty/student relationship. "Professor, judging from your verbal and nonverbal communication cues, and based on the little I have learned of your association with the CDC, can I safely assume the CDC has locked down any dissemination of information concerning the disease Mitch asked about?"
He froze, and then his face reddened. "End of discussion Mister Moore."
Uh, oh.
He slid off of his desk and pointed to one of the first year students, "Mister Washington, please borrow someone's textbook and copy the graph on page 185, titled STD Frequency, Age Group 18 to 30, onto the whiteboard so the students like yourself who did not bring their book to class can refer to it during my lecture."
Brown went to his podium and wrote a quick note on piece of paper, which he folded twice and inserted into his shirt pocket and then started his lecture on the frequency of sexually transmitted diseases among young people. Several times during the lecture he paused and seemed momentarily lost in thought before proceeding. Just before break, as he passed in front of my table, he slipped the paper from his pocket and placed it on the spiral notebook where I was entering the notes from the lecture. I unfolded it and read what he had written, MY OFFICE, BREAK TIME. That's all it said.
Moments later Brown called for break and left the classroom in a hurry. I handed the note with the cryptic wording to my three fellow classmates. "Well, what do you guys think?"
"In the Marines we learn to keep our mouths shut and play stupid."
"Thanks Mitch. A little of your Marine Corps wisdom would have helped before I opened my mouth."
"If I could see the future I would have been a commissioned officer instead of a non-com." He punched me lightly in the shoulder as the four of us walked out of the classroom. "Time to cowboy up kid, oorah."
America slipped her hand inside my arm, "We'll go with you Michael."
Essie chimed in, "If you want us too."
"Screw that kid, you're on your own." Mitch can really be comforting.
"I think we're taking this a little too serious guys, it's not like he's going to eat me, or something. He'll probably chew my ass a bit and that'll be the end of it. You guys take your break and I'll be back in a few minutes."
I left them and started walking towards Brown's office while I lit a cigarette. I wasn't really nervous, I mean I've been working in construction since I was eighteen and I've had my ass chewed by the very best. Plus, if Brown did try anything physical, which he wouldn't because he's actually kind of mellow, he wouldn't stand a chance. He's about five foot four, or so, and maybe 120 pounds. I'm only five foot seven, but I weigh in at 175 and none of it is fat. I work construction, remember? I've had quite a few women comment on how good I look, muscular, long shoulder length wavy auburn hair, hazel eyes, but few want to do more than casual dating. Women seem to prefer taller men when it comes to breeding stock. Does that sound sexist, or insecure?
I turned the corner and approached Brown's office door as I flicked away my cigarette, but before I could knock it opened.
"What took you so long?"
"Sorry, look Professor Brown if I was out of line…"
"No. Come in and sit down." He shut the door behind me as I stepped past and stood against the wall until he passed and sat at his desk. The offices of professors at community colleges are usually no bigger than a closet. I opened a folding chair leaning against the wall and sat down.
"I've been stressing about whether I should warn anyone and as a result I've gone against my own ethics. You're a bright young man Mister Moore and I want to run this whole thing past you, to get your opinion. You were right; I have been in contact with the CDC.
"Is there a party tonight? I see we are missing some of our little group." I hadn't noticed before, but he was right, maybe a third of the class was absent. Brown always locked the door at precisely 6:00 pm, so if you were in doubt about reaching class on time it was probably best to stay home because he would not let you in after the start of class. I was late once and spent the first hour and a half standing at the windows listening to his lecture. When break started, I entered and sat down at my regular seat where he informed me once I was marked absent, I was absent. I acknowledged I understood, but my feet were tired and I wanted to sit down. After class I noticed him change my status on the role sheet to present, but he didn't say anything. He was bit odd, but he wasn't a bad guy.
At precisely 6:00 o'clock he walked to the door and locked it, returned to the front of the class and sat on his desk. "Alright, what have you seen? What have you heard? What have you read?"
Each of Professor Brown's classes started the same way, the search for current events with applications to the class. It was an easy way to earn extra-credit and the four of us, Essie, Mitch, America, and I made full use of it. Mitch raised his hand.
"Mister Dugan."
"Professor Brown, last week on the news I caught a tidbit about an unknown disease in the Middle-East which apparently causes people to become extremely violent. Do you know anything about it? I haven't been able to find any further reference to it, even on the Internet."
There was a momentary hesitation before he answered. "Nope, I don't watch much television and I certainly do not watch a blatantly conservative format such as Fox News. Next?"
There was an alarm bell ringing in the back of my head. Brown always had something to say, always. Once in a great while if he was unaware of the topic he would assign the student with the question the task of finding out the information and presenting it to the class in the form of a two page essay. Easy extra credit and I had managed once to bring up a topic he was unaware of. Something was wrong this time, hesitation was out of character for him and he didn't offer Mitch the opportunity to write the essay. I knew from previous talks with Professor Brown he had worked with the Center for Disease Control for a while before he had a "disagreement" with his superiors and sought employment elsewhere. I also knew he had maintained contact with several friends who still worked there. The last thing, which set off the alarm bell? Mitch mentioned Fox News to the three of us outside before class, but not when he brought it up with the Professor. I raised my hand.
"Mister Moore."
I had a feeling I was about to over-step our faculty/student relationship. "Professor, judging from your verbal and nonverbal communication cues, and based on the little I have learned of your association with the CDC, can I safely assume the CDC has locked down any dissemination of information concerning the disease Mitch asked about?"
He froze, and then his face reddened. "End of discussion Mister Moore."
Uh, oh.
He slid off of his desk and pointed to one of the first year students, "Mister Washington, please borrow someone's textbook and copy the graph on page 185, titled STD Frequency, Age Group 18 to 30, onto the whiteboard so the students like yourself who did not bring their book to class can refer to it during my lecture."
Brown went to his podium and wrote a quick note on piece of paper, which he folded twice and inserted into his shirt pocket and then started his lecture on the frequency of sexually transmitted diseases among young people. Several times during the lecture he paused and seemed momentarily lost in thought before proceeding. Just before break, as he passed in front of my table, he slipped the paper from his pocket and placed it on the spiral notebook where I was entering the notes from the lecture. I unfolded it and read what he had written, MY OFFICE, BREAK TIME. That's all it said.
Moments later Brown called for break and left the classroom in a hurry. I handed the note with the cryptic wording to my three fellow classmates. "Well, what do you guys think?"
"In the Marines we learn to keep our mouths shut and play stupid."
"Thanks Mitch. A little of your Marine Corps wisdom would have helped before I opened my mouth."
"If I could see the future I would have been a commissioned officer instead of a non-com." He punched me lightly in the shoulder as the four of us walked out of the classroom. "Time to cowboy up kid, oorah."
America slipped her hand inside my arm, "We'll go with you Michael."
Essie chimed in, "If you want us too."
"Screw that kid, you're on your own." Mitch can really be comforting.
"I think we're taking this a little too serious guys, it's not like he's going to eat me, or something. He'll probably chew my ass a bit and that'll be the end of it. You guys take your break and I'll be back in a few minutes."
I left them and started walking towards Brown's office while I lit a cigarette. I wasn't really nervous, I mean I've been working in construction since I was eighteen and I've had my ass chewed by the very best. Plus, if Brown did try anything physical, which he wouldn't because he's actually kind of mellow, he wouldn't stand a chance. He's about five foot four, or so, and maybe 120 pounds. I'm only five foot seven, but I weigh in at 175 and none of it is fat. I work construction, remember? I've had quite a few women comment on how good I look, muscular, long shoulder length wavy auburn hair, hazel eyes, but few want to do more than casual dating. Women seem to prefer taller men when it comes to breeding stock. Does that sound sexist, or insecure?
I turned the corner and approached Brown's office door as I flicked away my cigarette, but before I could knock it opened.
"What took you so long?"
"Sorry, look Professor Brown if I was out of line…"
"No. Come in and sit down." He shut the door behind me as I stepped past and stood against the wall until he passed and sat at his desk. The offices of professors at community colleges are usually no bigger than a closet. I opened a folding chair leaning against the wall and sat down.
"I've been stressing about whether I should warn anyone and as a result I've gone against my own ethics. You're a bright young man Mister Moore and I want to run this whole thing past you, to get your opinion. You were right; I have been in contact with the CDC.
Some of my friends who still work there gave me a heads up and asked for advice. They want to try and get me reinstated for the duration."
"The duration?"
"For as long as it takes to get Mister Dugan's mysterious disease under control. More than once they thought they had it nailed down, but it keeps popping up again, spreading, and my friends think they're losing control of the situation. I am seriously violating security protocols by telling you this, but the word is to get out if it's not already too late. I believe the people have the right to know when they are in danger, but my superiors and the politicians didn't want general panic if something like this ever happened. My belief, the people have an intrinsic right to know of danger, is why I was invited to leave rather than be fired."
"How have they been able to keep it quiet?"
"Know what a Presidential Executive Order is?"
"Yeah, they're directives formulated by the President, some of which are to be instituted during a national emergency supposedly for the good of the Nation as a whole." See? My class in Political Science is paying off. Yeah, I know, the process is a little more complicated than that, but you get my drift.
"Yes, but in essence it can result in the creation of a dictatorship if used for the wrong reasons. One of those orders gives the President control of all communications. The Fox News report Dugan spoke of? Whoever cleared the release of the story is probably sitting in a prison, or worse, at this moment. What I am telling you could very well lead to my imprisonment"
"Jesus, alright." My head was spinning. "Okay, tell me about the disease. What's the fatality rate?"
"I don't know for sure, but I was told about nine per cent die from the infection."
"Nine per cent? It could be a lot worse."
"It is a lot worse. Nine per cent die of the infection; the other ninety-one per cent are the real problem. All signs of life except brain activity cease, but then reactivate."
"What?"
"Except for brain activity, for all intents and purposes they are dead, but then they reanimate. However, once they reanimate they seem to have lost all mental capabilities except rage and hunger. They attack uninfected people and attempt to consume them. They are easily distracted though and that is the reason they are spreading the infection. They bite someone and then become distracted by another potential victim. The victims who are not killed in the initial attack are almost guaranteed to become infected and then attack others, thereby spreading the disease."
"Professor Brown, are you talking about… zombies?" I'd seen all the old zombie movies, you know, arms held out in front, shuffling walk, eating anyone stupid enough to get too close.
"No, and yes. They are not dead per se, but they are incredibly hard to kill. Most people who suffer significant trauma go into shock and are incapable of action after the potential death injury is suffered. These people can die from a gunshot to the chest, but they don't go into shock and they keep attacking until dead. Their adrenaline levels are off the charts, so they're fast and strong. Another thing…"
I held up my hand, "Did you hear that?"
"What?"
I heard it again, but it was faint. I stood and opened the door; somewhere in the distance I could hear the piercing scream of a woman. It was high pitched and shrill, full of horror and despair.
Brown snatched up his office phone and punched in three numbers, "Come on, come on, answer the...Security? This is Doctor Thaddeus Brown, I'm down in the Science Building, and I am hearing the screams of a woman close by who seems to be in great pain. You better…you have? Okay. Can you get back to me when you find out what's happening? Thank you."
I looked out between the buildings and saw a Campus Police car race by with red and blue lights flashing. To the west I heard several muffled shouts, I couldn't make out the words, but it sounded as though it was someone giving commands. Then I heard, pop… pop… then pop, pop, pop, in rapid succession. I looked at Professor Brown; his eyes went wide.
"Michael, go to the classroom and tell everyone to go home. Tell them to stay in a group out to the parking lot and tell them to be cautious. I have to stay here until security calls back. Can you do that for me?"
Before I could answer the campus PA system activated, "Attention, attention, shots have been fired on campus. All students and faculty are to remain in their classrooms under lockdown conditions until further notification. I repeat…" The voice continued repeating the emergency lockdown.
I looked at Brown again. "To the classroom for lockdown, or to send everyone home?"
"The warning has taken it out of our hands. Go and tell everyone to stay in the classroom and lock the doors and windows. Michael, just to be on the safe side, turn off the lights. My friends say the infected are drawn to movement. This may be unrelated, but I don't believe in coincidences."
"What about you? There's an inter-campus phone in the classroom, so security can call you there; you just need to let them know you're there instead of your office."
"Yes, of course let's go."
We stepped out and he started to close the door, but he reopened it, stepped inside and when he came back out he had a partial case of bottled water in his arms.
"Take these."
I took them and he secured the office door before we hurried back to the classroom. When we arrived the rest of the students were milling around outside the door talking animatedly to one another.
"Everyone," Brown shouted. "Everyone inside the classroom; all of you heard the announcement, so please go in the classroom for your own safety until the all clear is given."
I scooted past everyone and into the classroom where I deposited the bottles of water on Brown's desk. I pulled out three bottles and handed them to my friends. The ladies looked nervous, but Mitch didn't seem perturbed at all. He had seen a lot of crap while in the Corps, two tours in Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, and some places he said he'd have to kill me if he told me about. I thought he was joking when he told me that and I'm sure he wouldn't really kill me, but I'm willing to bet there were things he wasn't suppose to tell anyone. I know he started out in a line company and then went Force Recon, then finally Scout Sniper. Marines are supposed to be badass, but Recon and Scout Snipers put the bad in badass.
"We were outside when the screaming started," said Mitch. "I started to go and check it out, then we saw the Campus Police drive by with their lights going and then we heard the shots."
"Yeah," I said. "We heard the screams in Brown's office and he called security. They said they'd call when they found out what was happening, but then the gunshots and the announcement."
Essie sat down at our communal table, "I hope this lockdown doesn't last long; I have to be back at work by 10:30."
"The duration?"
"For as long as it takes to get Mister Dugan's mysterious disease under control. More than once they thought they had it nailed down, but it keeps popping up again, spreading, and my friends think they're losing control of the situation. I am seriously violating security protocols by telling you this, but the word is to get out if it's not already too late. I believe the people have the right to know when they are in danger, but my superiors and the politicians didn't want general panic if something like this ever happened. My belief, the people have an intrinsic right to know of danger, is why I was invited to leave rather than be fired."
"How have they been able to keep it quiet?"
"Know what a Presidential Executive Order is?"
"Yeah, they're directives formulated by the President, some of which are to be instituted during a national emergency supposedly for the good of the Nation as a whole." See? My class in Political Science is paying off. Yeah, I know, the process is a little more complicated than that, but you get my drift.
"Yes, but in essence it can result in the creation of a dictatorship if used for the wrong reasons. One of those orders gives the President control of all communications. The Fox News report Dugan spoke of? Whoever cleared the release of the story is probably sitting in a prison, or worse, at this moment. What I am telling you could very well lead to my imprisonment"
"Jesus, alright." My head was spinning. "Okay, tell me about the disease. What's the fatality rate?"
"I don't know for sure, but I was told about nine per cent die from the infection."
"Nine per cent? It could be a lot worse."
"It is a lot worse. Nine per cent die of the infection; the other ninety-one per cent are the real problem. All signs of life except brain activity cease, but then reactivate."
"What?"
"Except for brain activity, for all intents and purposes they are dead, but then they reanimate. However, once they reanimate they seem to have lost all mental capabilities except rage and hunger. They attack uninfected people and attempt to consume them. They are easily distracted though and that is the reason they are spreading the infection. They bite someone and then become distracted by another potential victim. The victims who are not killed in the initial attack are almost guaranteed to become infected and then attack others, thereby spreading the disease."
"Professor Brown, are you talking about… zombies?" I'd seen all the old zombie movies, you know, arms held out in front, shuffling walk, eating anyone stupid enough to get too close.
"No, and yes. They are not dead per se, but they are incredibly hard to kill. Most people who suffer significant trauma go into shock and are incapable of action after the potential death injury is suffered. These people can die from a gunshot to the chest, but they don't go into shock and they keep attacking until dead. Their adrenaline levels are off the charts, so they're fast and strong. Another thing…"
I held up my hand, "Did you hear that?"
"What?"
I heard it again, but it was faint. I stood and opened the door; somewhere in the distance I could hear the piercing scream of a woman. It was high pitched and shrill, full of horror and despair.
Brown snatched up his office phone and punched in three numbers, "Come on, come on, answer the...Security? This is Doctor Thaddeus Brown, I'm down in the Science Building, and I am hearing the screams of a woman close by who seems to be in great pain. You better…you have? Okay. Can you get back to me when you find out what's happening? Thank you."
I looked out between the buildings and saw a Campus Police car race by with red and blue lights flashing. To the west I heard several muffled shouts, I couldn't make out the words, but it sounded as though it was someone giving commands. Then I heard, pop… pop… then pop, pop, pop, in rapid succession. I looked at Professor Brown; his eyes went wide.
"Michael, go to the classroom and tell everyone to go home. Tell them to stay in a group out to the parking lot and tell them to be cautious. I have to stay here until security calls back. Can you do that for me?"
Before I could answer the campus PA system activated, "Attention, attention, shots have been fired on campus. All students and faculty are to remain in their classrooms under lockdown conditions until further notification. I repeat…" The voice continued repeating the emergency lockdown.
I looked at Brown again. "To the classroom for lockdown, or to send everyone home?"
"The warning has taken it out of our hands. Go and tell everyone to stay in the classroom and lock the doors and windows. Michael, just to be on the safe side, turn off the lights. My friends say the infected are drawn to movement. This may be unrelated, but I don't believe in coincidences."
"What about you? There's an inter-campus phone in the classroom, so security can call you there; you just need to let them know you're there instead of your office."
"Yes, of course let's go."
We stepped out and he started to close the door, but he reopened it, stepped inside and when he came back out he had a partial case of bottled water in his arms.
"Take these."
I took them and he secured the office door before we hurried back to the classroom. When we arrived the rest of the students were milling around outside the door talking animatedly to one another.
"Everyone," Brown shouted. "Everyone inside the classroom; all of you heard the announcement, so please go in the classroom for your own safety until the all clear is given."
I scooted past everyone and into the classroom where I deposited the bottles of water on Brown's desk. I pulled out three bottles and handed them to my friends. The ladies looked nervous, but Mitch didn't seem perturbed at all. He had seen a lot of crap while in the Corps, two tours in Vietnam, Grenada, Panama, and some places he said he'd have to kill me if he told me about. I thought he was joking when he told me that and I'm sure he wouldn't really kill me, but I'm willing to bet there were things he wasn't suppose to tell anyone. I know he started out in a line company and then went Force Recon, then finally Scout Sniper. Marines are supposed to be badass, but Recon and Scout Snipers put the bad in badass.
"We were outside when the screaming started," said Mitch. "I started to go and check it out, then we saw the Campus Police drive by with their lights going and then we heard the shots."
"Yeah," I said. "We heard the screams in Brown's office and he called security. They said they'd call when they found out what was happening, but then the gunshots and the announcement."
Essie sat down at our communal table, "I hope this lockdown doesn't last long; I have to be back at work by 10:30."