Dead Meat

Dead Meat

Patrick Williams & Chris Williams

Published by Permuted Press at Smashwords.

Copyright 2012 Patrick Williams & Chris Williams.

www.PermutedPress.com

Cover art by Chris Williams.

Prologue:

Rivers Edge Dispatch

April 5, 2007

Rodents Infest Downtown

Associated Press

Rodents and small pests continue to gather in and near Downtown River’s Edge. Many local business owners are concerned about the smell and the sanitation issues caused by the influx of these pests.

Bill Gaines, owner of The Logger’s Brewery says, The smell of the mills can be bad enough some days, but now, these rats are making it worse. It’s definitely deterring customers.

Cindy Mathers is also worried about the sudden increase in rodents and pests. I don’t know what’s going on, Mathers states, but I can tell you people are not happy and are definitely worried about the long term effects.

Steven Dinn, a local Animal Control official, reports that he and a crew consisting of 13 other workers have been on the job for two days now. Steven, in a press conference conducted earlier this week, stated, Some of these animals are very emaciated. I’ve seen this before and I can tell you this problem won’t last till the end of the week. However, the primary concern and focus should be a possible increase in rabies transmission.

County and state processing labs have yet to comment on the results from autopsies and tests conducted on the captured rodents.

Reports of animal attacks have risen in the past few days due to the congregating animals, and bite victims fill the hospital rooms.

"Rabies is our main concern, Dr. Phillip Waxman tells us. We definitely have a potential medical problem and we have no way to tell when it will end."

Officials ask that residents in the industrial district of River’s Edge remain indoors for the time being and commuters and tourists are being asked to limit travel and outside activities to morning and afternoon hours. Dr. Waxman states that most of our current cases happened during the early morning hours, ranging anywhere from midnight to four in the morning. Dr. Waxman also advises locals to make sure that they remain in well lit areas to help deter contact with these animals.

* * *

April 8, 2007

Hospitals Overrun, Voluntary Evacuation Ordered

Associated Press

As Animal Control officers work to derail the current infestation plaguing Downtown River’s Edge, other officials affiliated with the National Guard and J.P. Dixon Hospital report an increase in related illnesses. The current increase has led to an overflow of Dixon Hospital’s halls, rooms, and medical beds. Currently, the hospital seeks outside help from neighboring counties to help board and treat patients not suffering from the current outbreak.

What once were reported animals attacks have turned into reported random assaults and dementia, two characteristics often attributed to neurological disorders. Journalists, doctors, and other medical specialists have been quick to link the current outbreak to rabies; however, skeptics challenge the empirical evidence connecting the outbreak to the disease. Those skeptics claim there is no substantial, tangible data proving that rabies is the cause for altering the once pest-on-human attacks to the now human-on-human attacks.

At this time, no medical documentation has been released to the public. As those skeptics call for transparency, they themselves reveal that there is no evidence to counter the medical specialists’ claims that rabies has overrun River’s Edge. Regardless of who is right or wrong, the numbers of victims and casualties consistently increase each day.

To help prevent River’s Edge from total collapse, Mayor Robinson has issued a Voluntary Evacuation order. Robinson urges residents who are not ill to pack personal belongings and sensitive documents and to vacate the town. This is the time, Robinson stated in a press conference yesterday, to urge the separation of the healthy from the ailing to accurately assess the town’s increasing damage. Robinson also noted that a mandatory evacuation could loom in the near future.

CHAPTER ONE:

Benny

Hell yeah!

I jump—startled—and push myself back against the brick wall.

Shit man, I was starting to think I was all alone. I didn’t think I was going to see anyone ever again! The voice echoes throughout the alleyway. As I squint into the sun, I catch a silhouette peering over the roof’s edge. With a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos in his hand, he stares down at me. What’s up? he says as he brushes crumbs off his shirt. A wide, carnivalesque grin stretches across his face. Seen anybody else lately?

Not in two days, you? I respond. He’s the first human I’ve seen who isn’t spaced out or rabid looking like some of the other bite victims. I sigh with relief as two days of paranoia wane.

Come on up; it’s a bit safer up here. Ladder’s to the right. He points to a rusted fire escape ladder attached to the side of the building. I slide between two dumpsters blocking the way.

I climb the ladder and he appears above me, chips crunching as he shoves more into his mouth. Anything to eat? he mumbles. I’ve got Doritos and Honey Buns.

Doritos.

Once on the roof I see he’s made a half-ass camp. A sleeping bag rigged between an antenna and a dome shaped air vent acts as a make-shift tent with a couple of book bags piled in the shelter. How long have you been here?

Two days. Chips fall from his mouth as he talks. There’s a hatch to the inside so I bagged some food and drink. He points to the book bags. Someone already cleared the place of cash though. Killed two of them rabid fuckers. They look like workers. Who knows? He hands me the bag of Doritos, and I grab a handful. But I figure I could last a while up here. You’re welcome to stay man. I’m just glad I ain’t the only one anymore. I mean shit man, I get pretty tired of myself sometimes. Name’s Benny.

Gavin I say, nodding to him. We both stuff our mouths full of chips.

So, what’s up with you…Gavin? Benny says with a sarcastic undertone.

Looking for a way out. Transmission busted while getting to this part of town. Looks like it was an oil leak.

That sucks shit man.

Yeah. It does suck. Luckily my parents got out in time. They had planned to visit my sister for a few days, so they figured the health scare gave them a reason to head out earlier than they originally anticipated. How’d you get caught here?

Benny runs his fingers through his wavy, black hair and takes a swallow of an orange soda. I worked at a gas station across the street from the hospital when it first started. I had a lot of regulars from the hospital coming in talking about rabies, bites and some weird disease or some shit like that. He tosses me a soda from one of the bags. Lots of strange shit happening, like animal attacks and random assaults, that brought people in for treatment. More than normal for a small town like this. Listening to the radio about rat infestations and all, I knew something was up when those same customers started showing up for their smokes and looking sick as hell. Some coughing with the sweats and others with bandages telling me their horror stories. Stories about crazy people starting fights and shit ‘cause they ain’t right in the head or something. He stands, paces around, looks over the edge of the building as if expecting something, and then continues.

So a few days later I’m working as usual, and some fucker comes in and heads straight for this guy at the slushy machine. That shit was like in slow-mo and all. And the dude just sinks his teeth into the guy’s arm and tears a massive chunk out and just chews on it. So I grab the bat from behind the counter and knock the biter senseless. Benny swings his arms, splashing orange soda onto his makeshift tent. Except the guy doesn’t react. He just stumbles a few feet and keeps gnawing on the chunk of meat. Fucking A man! This guy had to be on some serious shit. Maybe some crystal meth mixed with acid or something. I tell him to get the fuck out, but he just keeps chewing. By this time, the other guy had bolted. I run to the counter, grab the phone, dial 911 and tell them to get their asses over there.

Despite his excitement, I notice that he doesn’t seem upset at all. With a wide grin, he moves all over the roof, reenacting the entire story like it’s a scene from his favorite movie.

So as soon as I hang up the phone, the bastard tries to make me fucking dessert! I push him as hard as I can and take a shot at him. I hit that fucker so hard blood comes out of his ears, man! And for like ten seconds he just stands there. Nothing! Not a damned thing!

He finishes his drink and lobs the can into the street below, saliva and orange soda mapping its trajectory. Like I was saying, the fucker just stands there, head half caved in, blood running out of his ears. Then his arm just drops, goes limp or some shit. So I figure he’s going down. I mean, I hit that bastard hard! What happens next is un-fucking believable! He shuffles after me like I had just hit him with a fly swatter. That shit wasn’t kosher man! I go at him again with the power of Grayskull, he says with a clever wink. Don’t stop beating on him till my bat cracks. When I was done with him, his head looked like a watermelon dropped from five stories. That’s when I split!

Wait—so you’re telling me the guy wouldn’t die? I ask in a skeptical tone.

Hell yeah that’s what I’m saying. His grin fades. He wouldn’t die until his brain was scattered on the floor. Benny’s passive face doesn’t match his defensive tone. Benny leans over the edge of the roof and spits.

Just to break the silent tension, I ask, Have you heard anything since?

He spits one more time and runs his hands through his hair again, knocking the bangs from his eyes. Nah.

Nothing on the radio?

Never thought about it.

The radio? You didn’t think of grabbing one?

Nope, he says. I was too busy snatching free Honey Buns. He walks over to his makeshift campsite and grabs a flashlight. Opening the hatch leading inside, he says, Bet there’s one down below. Coming?

Sliding his feet into the dark hole, he turns on the flashlight. Benny disappears and all I can follow are the sounds of his feet hitting the rungs as the light shifts from side to side. My feet hit the floor and the smell of rancid meat shocks my nose, the smell so sharp it tingles my taste buds.

Benny waves his flashlight around the room. This is the maintenance closet. He shines the light against a door. Past the door there’s a narrow hall which leads to the storefront. He opens the door and says, Oh, yeah, and watch out for the corpse.

We walk through the hall and reach the coolers in the back of the store first. Rivers of dried blood cascade down the wall and refrigerator doors, first black, then a bright red as Benny’s light passes. The gore and its stench make my stomach churn.

Benny shines the light on the body’s hollow chest and whispers, Shhh. The Tin Man’s taking a nap.

What happened? I ask, covering my mouth and nose with my shirt.

Hell if I know, he responds. Shotgun to the chest would be my guess. Dude was dead when I got here. Benny swings the light from the body to the storefront. Barred windows plastered with sales and advertisements filter the remaining sunlight.

Don’t need this anymore, Benny says, turning off the flashlight.

It’s your basic convenience store. Candy, soda, smokes. Everything overpriced. Walking through the aisles, I spot Tylenol, trucker hats, condoms and Snickers. On an end-cap, I spot handheld radios with batteries included.

Open the radio. Insert batteries.

Static.

Shit dude, you found one? Benny shouts from two aisles over.

Yeah.

Can you get anything?

Trying now, I tell him as I turn the dial, searching for a voice, a song, anything. After a few seconds of static, I get something:

"-vrick here for your hourly update. Still alive and counting the hours. I’ve been on the lookout for other people—well, let me clarify—attractive, female ‘other people’ searching for a hedonistic sanctuary that your local Mav could easily accommodate. Sha-Bam.

"But seriously now, it’s only been three days since these friggin’ pricks showed up and already this town’s fallen to crap! I’ve gotten a ridiculous amount of calls concerning lockdowns and quarantine areas, but I bet it’s some government horse pissing into our pond. If you have any friggin’ clue as to—" The station cuts out.

What the hell! Benny yells, Tune that bitch!

I hit the radio against the counter but the static remains. With another hit, the station comes back.

"Alright, if you’re just tuning in, this is the ‘Underground Sound,’ with your classically trained skeptic and host ‘The Maverick,’ here on 88.5 FM.

"Listen people: it’s day three and the show’s still running. You’re listening; I’m talking, we’re not getting rampaged—at least you and I aren’t. So far, I’ve got about 20 or so beastly looking sickos trouncing around outside the studio building. I mean, I know I’m the ‘Mav’ and all, but I don’t need no paparazzi.

"So, if these people are hovering around my hidden cavern of conspiracy theories, then something major must be going on around out there. I mean, how can three days pass with me as the only show broadcasting? I know my listeners love me, all 160 pounds of badass-ness, and want to have my babies, but it doesn’t mean that everything is OK.

"I mean damn, it’s not like our town is buried or that we drowned like Atlantis or some crap like that. We’re here. We’re on the air. Yet rabies or some crap is taking us out? That’s the government for you. I’m surprised it isn’t some new drug processed and distributed by the government like crack or LSD.

"Enough hilarity already. Let’s get right on into the ‘Gut Check’ segment of the show. I pose a scenario and you survive the gut check moment. Can you handle it? Caller one, if you were in your vehicle sitting idle at a red light and three or four of these pricks try to car jack you, could you handle it? Gut check time! Bam! Caller number one, you’re on the air."

"Hey Mav, this is Blake. Hells yeah I could handle it. I keep a 9mm in my waistband for [bleep] like this. I’ve been strapped ever since I heard about the increase in lycanthropy transmission on your show."

"Ooohh… nice. So, with a 9mm, what would you do?"

"Well [bleep], first I would aim for the [bleep] crotch area to prove a point and prevent the spread of the disease."

"Wait…wait… are you talking lycanthropy as a sexually transmitted disease?"

"Uh… I mean…well…"

"OK, moving on to caller two. And listeners, if this caller is an idiot as well, we’re moving from gut-check to brain-check. Caller two, Go!"

"Yo, Mav, Pete here. First, I would floor the gas to run someone over. And if that’s not enough, I keep one of my son’s baseball bats in the car. I’d at least knock a one or two of them, major league homerun style."

"Genius. Pure genius. Pete, my man, you survive! Alright, hang on the line so we can get your info. You’ve got two tickets to see Gwar this—oh, crap. Never mind. I don’t think anyone is going anywhere this weekend.

"OK, folks, now we have a caller with some traffic insights. Caller, you’re on."

"Mav, this is Steven. I’m at Morgan and Third. Been trying to find a detour to the interstate. I’m not gonna lie; I’m bailing. I mean, the military even sealed off Crooks Bridge and Sparrows Nest roads. Are we under quarantine or what?"

"Steve, if I may call you that, quarantine would be my first guess. If the cops are blocking all major exit routes, then we are apparently in for it. It could be rabies like some think, or it could even be a weird, mutated form of smallpox. Who knows? Thanks for the call, Steve.

"What we do know is that Big Brother is probably keeping an ear tuned to my show and one of his many eyes on our town. I’ve already lost contact with two satellite stations and I can barely receive incoming information at this time.

"Congratulations people! Our town might just be one of the greatest disappearing acts in history."

* * *

On our way back to the roof, a loud bang distracts me and I trip over the body. I catch myself before my head rams into a cooler door.

Have a nice trip? Benny taunts.

Did you hear that? I turn off the radio as I stand up.

Another loud bang resonates through the store.

I did that time, he says while moving back to the aisles.

The outline of a person between the advertisements covering the door catches us off guard.

"You think it’s one of them?" Another bang.

Benny murmurs to me, Don’t know, man. Either way, sounds like someone wants in.

One last, ominous bang and the door finally gives way, scattering glass and daylight around the store front. A woman’s body falls through the threshold, landing on the numerous shards lodged in the frame.

Holy fuck! Benny yells as he takes a few steps towards the body. I grab his shirt to stop him.

What do you think you’re doing?

I want to see it.

It could be one of them, I say.

I know.

Benny shrugs off my hand and creeps towards the body. I can only stare in amazement. Glass juts through her lower back. Her faded, pink sweater and blue jeans absorb trickles of blood running down her skin. She doesn’t move. Not a shiver. Not a twitch. From the pool of blood under her, it looks like she has bled out. She’s dead. I inhale slowly to center myself. Benny, she’s dead.

You think? he responds.

Staring at her impaled body, I say coldly, We need to leave, man. Like, leave town. But Benny doesn’t respond. When he is within arm’s reach, he crouches down and sweeps the hair from the woman’s face.

Dude, this chick’s face is all torn up. He tilts his head like a curious puppy. And it ain’t from the glass.

Are you hearing me?

Yeah, yeah, I hear you. He stands but doesn’t turn to leave. You should seriously see this shit, man. I almost consider taking a glance, but the sound of glass scraping against tile startles me. Her arm. It moves, slowly.

Benny—

Fine. I’m coming.

No. Her arm—

Oh shit! He frantically steps back, almost slipping in the woman’s blood. No fucking way! He grabs the counter and retreats towards me.

Her arms move as she tries to raise herself off the glass. Her grunts and moans sound like she’s gargling blood. She pushes herself up, but the blood soaked sweater catches on the glass, restricting her movement. She raises her head and looks towards Benny and I. Deep gouges and scratches mar her face, especially around her right eye. Her legs slide out from under her and she slides back down onto the glass shards. The movements only make her wounds open wider and deeper. She releases a long moan. Benny whips out his flashlight once he’s with me and shines the light into her face.

That’s a fucking nasty wound, Benny says. And look at her eye, man. Shit’s all white and greasy looking.

She attempts to get up again. This time, she’s successful.

What…the fuck? I choke down a mouthful of vomit. Breathing seems a little harder now.

She stands up and stumbles back slightly. She holds her waist and looks down at her blood soaked hands. It’s as every move she makes is slow and deliberate.

Fuck me…Christ…

He ain’t here, Gavin. He definitely ain’t here.

Pausing for a moment but focusing her eyes on us, she slowly raises both blood soaked arms, stretching out her hands as if trying to touch us. She just stands there silently. Looking at us. Her sweater starts to move on its own, as if something invisible is tugging on it. From under her sweater, her insides slide onto the ground; blood lubricates the way. Still reaching for us, she looks down, almost curiously. She bends down to her knees, trying to gather her intestines and slowly tuck them back into herself. She looks at us again, reaching with only one arm this time. The other arm covers the wound. More intestines fall and she tries to scoop them up again and again. No moaning. No screaming. Nothing.

Dude, that ain’t right! Benny snaps. Let’s fucking bail, man!

Bail to where? I ask, making sure to step over the body on our way back to the roof. We need supplies, real food, and all that stuff, I say to his feet as we climb the ladder.

And some damned weapons, he shouts down.

Once we both stand on the roof with book bags slung over our shoulders, Benny says, Wonder Mart ain’t too far. That’s the best place I can think of.

A department store?

You got any better ideas?

No, but we should probably head up north once we’re done there.

Why north? he asks.

My family. I think of my sister, Addison, and my parents. They need me, I say, climbing down the fire escape. Once our feet hit the asphalt, we make our escape from the unsettling scene.

* * *

"Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey," I assert.

No, you’re wrong.

How’s that? He was made for that part.

"Dude, Keanu Reeves’ best role ever was Johnny Utah in Point Break," Benny argues.

Listen man: Ted Theodore Logan is and always will be Reeves’ greatest role. It’s just something you can’t deny. Look deep within yourself; it’s there isn’t it? I tell him, hoping he would keep this ridiculous argument going so my mind won’t go back to the girl, the glass, and the guts.

No, you listen, man. His tone hardens. Utah had it all. He was good looking, intelligent, had a way with the chicks and got to shoot up the fucking Red Hot Chili Peppers.

"Whatever man. The Wyld Stallions’ music created world peace and saved the environment. Give it up Benny!" I show him my game winning face.

Anyway, Benny says, shrugging off the conversation, what the hell went down back there?

I don’t know, and I don’t particularly care, I want to say.

She should have been a goner, man. He runs his hands through hair and says, Maybe she was one of those sick people or—

Let’s see what’s on the radio. I pull the radio out of my bag and turn it on.

Fine.

"-now and then. But to get back to what I was talking about, I just took a call off the air and this is what she had to say. So ‘Andrea’, we’ll call her that, called me up saying her mother was taken to the hospital apparently D.O.A. from one of these animal bites we’ve been discussing. Now here’s the kicker. ‘Andrea’ tells me her-"

Static muffles the broadcast for a brief second, and I slightly tweak the knob to fix it.

"-Ya, that’s right. That’s exactly how it sounds. I think it’s a safe to say we can kick that rabies theory out the window."

* * *

I shut off the radio to avoid listening to Maverick’s voice fighting waves of static and poor reception.

We walk, passing neighborhoods separated by undeveloped pasture and For Sale signs bearing overly tanned real estate agents and rippling American flags. Benny pitches pebbles at the agents’ faces; the loud pings add to the monotonous rhythm of our steps.

As the pasture lots decrease and the residential areas increase, we approach the T intersection just as the dusk dwindles into night. Wonder Mart’s large, mostly vacant parking lot stands across the intersection, its neon green and yellow sign pulsing in the growing darkness.

Not too much longer, I say to Benny, and then we’ll—

Before I can finish, as if on some cosmic cue, tires screech as a fishtailing truck speeds into view. The cobalt blue pickup truck’s headlights weave through the darkness, but just as the truck stabilizes itself, the lights straighten and envelop a hobbling mass of—something.

What the hell is that? Benny whispers, grabbing my shoulder and stopping us. His fingernails dig into my skin and my muscles tense. We await the seemingly inevitable impact.

Before the driver has enough time to react, the truck’s grill barrels into the mass, rolling over the victim with sickening thuds before shifting directions and colliding head on with the nearest light post.

Shit, man. Did that just happen?

What the hell was that in the road?

Had to be one of those fuckers—any sane person would have moved out of the way.

I nod. Maybe we should help them?

Yeah, maybe, he replies. Let’s check it out. He releases my shoulder and we jog towards the wrecked truck. Steams rolls from under the crumpled hood and the remaining headlight flickers before completely dying.

We split up and Benny approaches the truck from an angle so he can see through the back window. I walk towards the driver’s side door and Benny holds up one finger, indicating that only one person is in the cab—at least I think that’s what he means. Seeing a body hunched over the steering wheel, I open the car door. The airbag didn’t deploy and the seat belt hangs unbuckled. The driver’s shoulder and arm lay against the wheel; his head rests on the center dash. His face looks towards the sky and blood slowly pumps from his nose and mouth. He doesn’t look too damaged. As I reach to shake his shoulder, Benny grabs my shirt.

Dude, no touching. He pulls me from the door. Could be one of those fuckers or like that chick at the store—half and half.

Alright, I say, backing away from the door. I was just going to see if he’s alive.

Where’s the road kill? he asks, looking around the front of the truck. There’s blood on the grill.

Probably under, I say, stooping down to look under the truck’s cab. The lights from the parking lot and pulsing sign help define the outline of a body.

See it?

Yeah, I say, it’s there. Shattered bones protrude from the body’s legs. Doesn’t look like it handled the impact well.

Benny walks around to the passenger’s side door and opens it. He checks the glove box and quickly slams it shut. Had to be running from something, he mumbles. Something had to make him drive out of control.

A loud Fuck!