End of the Road Page 27

  Back to Top

  Chapter 32

  Downfall #1

  By Thomas Jenner and Angeline Perkins

  One

  I remember the day I died. Most of it, anyway. It was my last day as Brandon Williams, the 18-year-old minimum wage construction worker. I used to think Tuesday was the ultimate boring day; I think this would have been a little more ironic if it’d happened on a Monday.

  My enthusiasm for work waned every day. Maybe it was because it was a ridiculously humid summer, or maybe my boss just signed onto crappy jobs, I could never figure it out. Dallas was no stranger to heat, especially in July, but this summer seemed worse than previous years.

  It was Day Two of the never-ending room addition, yet another job from hell. This California-blonde trophy wife apparently demanded of her grandfather-aged husband that she wanted another room and, according to my boss, he just signed the contract with barely a glance at the title. One thing after another was going wrong: the first guy out there didn’t get the right measurements, she bitched at us when we moved her patio furniture out of the way, her dumb little yip dogs almost got ran over by our truck because she let them run around out front, she kept trying to change where we were going to lay everything out, and that morning we found out there was a ton of rock under the ground where we were supposed to lay the foundation. We needed a jackhammer for it, and we already knew she was going to flip out. My partner Jason started counting down on his clock as soon as the boss’ truck pulled up with it.

  Then the bitch walked up, holding one of her miniature yapping furballs. “How much longer is this going to take?” she groaned. “We signed this contract a week ago, and you’ve hardly done anything!”

  I barely glanced at her. “As long as it takes to get it done.” I already hated her.

  Jason ran down to the truck to get the jackhammer and in pure overdramatic fashion, she dropped her dog and started grabbing her hair in panic at the sight of the tool. I tried not to laugh.

  “What the hell is that thing?!” she cried. “You’re going to destroy my home!”

  I forgot to mention my suspicion that she didn’t know a damned thing about construction. Hopelessly, I tried to dumb it down. “It’s rock down there, we have to dig it out so we will be able to put your room in.” I wasn’t getting paid to chat, so I removed a chalk line from my tool belt and started marking the border of where we would be digging.

  “This wasn’t part of the original plan,” she hissed, pacing around the backyard. Her ‘dog’ yipped again.

  “Neither was digging into all this rock,” I repeated, watching Jason walk up with the jackhammer and my boss drive away. “I’m just doing what the contractor told me to do.”

  “My husband will hear about this,” she snarled, pulling her cell phone from her purse and walking back into the house.

  “Hope he can hear her over this thing,” Jason chuckled, gesturing toward the jackhammer. He cleared his throat and brought it near the center of the stone slab where we were working in the back yard.

  I finally smiled, feeling a little more normal. I wasn’t generally this depressing; to this day I still blame the heat, combined with the stupidity of the situation. I was usually the one cracking the jokes and putting on a show for the guys. I’ve been through enough in my life to learn to get over things quickly and keep life from getting dull. If I were in a better mood I’d have been mocking the wife behind her back to get a laugh out of Jason. I don’t shy away from sarcasm, and I pride myself on being well armed with snappy comebacks and goofy expressions. This day just sucked.

  To get my mind off things, I took a moment to look over the home; admittedly I was a little jealous, as it was by far the best and most expensive looking house on that street. It stood three stories up with a slate colored shingle roof, a stone grey exterior with white accents, an ornate wrought-iron fence and perfectly manicured lawn, complete with rose bushes by the front door. I wondered to whom the husband sold his soul to in order to get his hands on this place.

  The only thing killing this Kodak moment was the incessant wailing of sirens in the distance. I’d been hearing them all day, but I didn’t pay it much thought at the time.

  It was a far cry from my living situation. I lived with my 13-year-old sister Danielle halfway across town, in a tiny one-bedroom home where I barely made the rent every month and struggled to keep the power on. My personal belongings didn’t expand much beyond a limited wardrobe and some hand-me-down furniture. We had a TV, but it was more effective as a coffee table since I didn’t really watch anything and, well, Danielle had been deaf since birth.

  She was old enough to stay home alone, but the thought always bothered me. Granted, she was smart enough to handle herself, but sometimes I’d slip it by her that I could get a babysitter to keep her company. She’d get pissed at me and assert her independence, ending off the argument by flipping the bird in my face. I would have liked to put her in school, but I had to keep her out of the system until she was grown up.

  It had been seven years since I took her away from our foster home. Our parents died in a car accident when Danielle was 6 and I was 11, and we were sent to foster homes. When I turned 13 I was told that we would be separated and sent to different families; I wasn’t going to allow that. I packed up our things and snuck us out overnight. For a while we lived on the street, then I made a few friends and we were able to crash there for a night or two at a time. When I was 14 I took small day jobs, I even earned a lucrative gig as a McDonalds window jockey for a while. When I was 16 I landed a steady job with a general contractor, and I convinced a shady landlord to let us live in one of the small beat-up homes he owned. Not that I’m bragging or anything.

  “Dude, you okay?” Jason asked me, waving his hand in front of my face.

  I snapped out of it, blinked a few times and adjusted my tool belt before grabbing a push broom to clear the debris from the foundation.

  Jason sniffed a little as he moved the jackhammer into place.

  “You all right?” I asked with a smirk, “you’re not getting all sad because Her Royal Bitchness left, are you?”

  “Oh yeah, totally,” Jason said, wiping his nose with his shoulder. “I’m starting to think I caught that flu going around.”

  “What? I thought you got a shot for that already,” I reminded him as I swept. I noticed he looked a little clammier than usual.

  Jason nodded, “I did, I got it yesterday. I just think I got it too late. You ought to get them for you and Dani, don’t want you guys getting sick too.”

  “We may do that this weekend,” I said.

  Then it happened - the gunshots. Three of them. They were the warning cries of what was to come.

  “What the fuck was that?!” I yelled in surprise, moving toward the front yard where I heard it come from. Jason dropped the jackhammer and followed me out, and we both looked up and down the street. We didn’t see anything unusual, but I know a gun when I hear it and I didn’t want to take the chance. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and dialed 9-1-1, keeping my voice collected. I didn’t get the chance to explain because all I got was a busy signal. Confused, I tried again, and this time I heard in the pleasantly automated voice, “The number you are calling cannot be completed as dialed.”

  “Jason, you try to call,” I offered, hanging up my phone. He did as I asked, but reported the same thing.

  A shriek pierced my eardrums. I looked at Jason, this time actually feeling worried; we both ran out toward the front of the house, looking around the street. There was another scream; across the street and up the block a ways, there was a woman running in our direction with a man chasing close behind. Within seconds the bastard had tackled her to the ground.

  Jason stepped up behind me, appearing more tired than usual. “What the hell’s going on?”

  I didn’t answer; I ran to help the woman. The attacker grabbed at her violently, and her screaming became more high-pitched and frantic.

  “Get off
her, fucker!” I yelled, and as I got closer I became less furious and more horrified: the guy sank his teeth into the woman’s face and neck, and he clenched into her torso, pulling on her flesh until the blood spilled.

  It felt like a dream. Maybe the heat really was getting to me. I couldn’t even comprehend what I just witnessed, but I knew I was running out of time if I wanted to save this lady’s life. I ran as fast as I could, then launched forward and slammed into the man, knocking him off of her. We toppled over each other a few times, rolling away from the woman whose screams had died down to throaty gasps. I silently hoped that I wasn’t too late. In my peripheral vision I spotted Jason approaching, though he seemed unusually slow considering the situation. I planned on ripping him a new one as soon as I was done with this creep in front of me.

  I gained the upper hand and pinned down the attacker, who had grown increasingly aggressive. Then I realized that the man was already covered in large amounts of blood, more than what he just drew from the poor woman. He was missing a piece of his neck, and had a few scratches on his face, and he wasn’t talking. No matter what I shouted at him, he only responded in grunts and growls, which made his voice sound like it had been grated up.

  But then I saw the eyes. Not only did they rival the rage of a feral animal, the whites of the eyes were clouded over in a sickly black, and the irises glowed a bright crimson. This thing was a goddamn monster.

  I glanced up for a moment and saw Jason standing over the body of the woman, but he wasn’t moving. My confusion shifted back to the immediate danger; I braced one hand on the… thing’s neck and swung my other fist into its face. I landed a few punches before the freak reared his upper body upward and sent me to the ground. I had no idea why this thing was as strong as it was - it looked pretty sick, to be honest. My head hit the concrete, knocking me dizzy for a moment; in that time the crazy man regained himself and leaped on top of me. Instinctively I raised my hands up in defense, and then the lunatic grabbed my left hand and bit down sharply on the outer side.

  I felt the muscles in my hand tearing and I roared in more pain than I ever recall being in before. I pulled back but the thing kept its grip on me. With my free hand, and without thinking, I grabbed the hammer still attached to my tool belt and smashed it into the man’s temple. The impact knocked him down long enough for me to get back up; I kicked the attacker in the ribs, but he jumped right back up again and knocked me down again. A small part of me wondered if this thing would ever go down, but I quickly resigned myself to the fact that this thing was out for blood.

  I yanked him to the side with enough momentum to roll him over and pinned him down; I took the opportunity to swing the hammer again. Part of the man’s skull caved on impact, but he was still alive. The adrenaline inside me was pulsing, and I knew I had to take this guy out. I finally turned the hammer to the claw end and sunk it into the forehead; after seizing for a few seconds it finally died, the blood pooling quickly around what remained of its head.

  I blinked a few times, still trying to fully register what had just occurred – I couldn't tell if I killed a person or a monster. Regardless, the fact was I had smashed its brains in. The pain re-surged in my left hand; grunting through my teeth, I pulled my t-shirt off and wrapped my hand up. The bite tore deep, but thankfully my hand was still in one piece.

  Part of me still thought this was a dream, and I started convincing myself to wake up. I looked ahead of me and saw Jason knelt over the woman, who hadn’t moved from her spot since the attack started. I started to realize that she wouldn’t make it. As I got closer, I noticed how still Jason was. I had no idea what was going through his head, why he was acting like… nothing.

  “What the fuck, man?!” I spat. “I was practically getting my ass kicked and you’re just standing there like an idiot!”

  Jason barely acknowledged me - instead he reached his hand out and touched the woman’s head. She showed no sign of life as the blood emptied from the wounds on her face and side of her abdomen. Jason, with some hesitation, pressed two fingers against the gash on her cheek.

  I didn’t think it was possible for me to be even more creeped out. “Uh, Jason, what are you doing…” There was no logical answer that I could come up with to explain the sudden change in my friend, and it was freaking me out more than what I just experienced minutes earlier. I heard the police and ambulance sirens getting closer and more frequent - no doubt someone had called the police after witnessing this massacre. Then again if I was getting a busy signal, others may have, too. It was beginning to sink in that something was wrong.

  During that time Jason retracted his hand, the blood now on his fingers. He brought them up to his face; after examining them for a moment, he licked the blood off of them.

  My jaw dropped and I closed my eyes in a tight squint, my face curling into intense disgust. I had no words or thoughts at that moment; I could only sputter, “What the holy fuck is wrong with you!?”

  Jason looked up almost innocently. “I don’t know man… I’m just… really hungry.”

  It was at that point I decided, “screw it.” I backed away slowly, and then I heard more gunfire. I didn’t know what kind of riot this was, but I didn’t want to stick around any longer to find out. Only one thing came back to my mind at that moment: Danielle.

  “Jason, we need to get out of here now!” I demanded.

  Jason remained almost motionless, his voice turning raspy as he spoke slowly. “I don’t know what’s wrong… I feel… sick…”

  The sounds of chaos grew louder around us, and finally I said, “You know what? You're on your own, man.” I'd given up on trying to get my friend to come to his senses.

  I ran back to my truck and peeled out of the driveway, speeding through the neighborhood.

  Two

  I started feeling a little dizzy; I glimpsed at my hand and noticed it was bleeding through my makeshift bandage. Who knows how much blood I lost. As I drove, I saw repeats of what I had just experienced; every so often crazed, bloody people ran up and down the streets and attacked anyone in their path, including a dog in someone’s front yard which made my gut churn and my head pound.

  There were still some miles to travel before getting home, and it was all I could do not to slam into other vehicles that seemed to increase in numbers around me. All over there were crashed cars and bodies strewn in the streets. I had a hard time focusing, but I kept my thoughts on my sister; if I’d believed in God I’d have been praying at that moment. Instead I kept willing myself to wake up from the insanity.

  I continued swerving around the wreckage while trying to maintain speed. Then more of those crazies appeared and swarmed my car, pounding and scratching on the windows. Some of these things were more grotesque than what I faced: missing eyes, chewed off jaws, all of them looking as if they’d been shredded up by wild animals.

  Frantically, I rolled up the windows to keep them out, but it didn’t make any difference as they clawed and growled at my truck. As the minutes dragged on, I felt increasingly sick to my stomach, along with some sudden muscle cramping.

  Then without warning I felt a huge surge of pain in my chest, as if it were both caving in and burning up at the same time. It amplified at an astronomical rate, my veins pounded underneath my skin, and the pain radiated out to my limbs. My breathing got shorter and more agonized with each second, and the dizziness got so bad it made my vision blurry. Within seconds I felt a heavy impact from the front of the vehicle, and the sound of grinding metal and shattered glass scraped my ears.

  I don’t know how long I was out, maybe a few seconds, possibly minutes. All I know is I awoke to the sound of my truck windows shattering, and the fuzzy view of the crazies clamoring their way inside. I was still weak, but I managed to put my boot into a few of their heads before climbing out of the car and falling to the concrete.

  As soon as I managed to stand up I realized I was surrounded by total chaos. Cars were smashed into each other, some were even on fire, bodies
littered the ground, and some of them even got back up after appearing to be dead. Choppers flew overhead and I heard some gunfire in the distance. It couldn’t have been more than a few hours since I left for work this morning; granted there was a traffic jam, and I wondered if this may have been part of the reason for it.

  The dizziness and the pain continued to escalate, and I found it harder to concentrate as I attempted to navigate through the back streets. All I could think about was my sister, so I pressed onward. I knew those streets pretty well, so I ducked into some alleyways to avoid attention. I was able to avoid a lot of the commotion for a while, stumbling between buildings and sneaking through back parking lots. I made a wrong turn somewhere down the line, as I found myself at a dead end. My disorientation kept getting worse and the weakness was getting the better of me… or so I thought. As much pain as I was experiencing, I could still move relatively quick.

  Then I heard it, the growls of those things behind me. I felt a rush of pain as my heart beat faster. I turned around and saw two of the crazies making a disorganized beeline for me, their red eyes blazing even in the broad daylight. The blood pulsed inside, and I got a surge of energy out of nowhere. I’d been weakening quickly up to that point, but as soon as I saw them heading for me I just… snapped. As the first one closed in, I braced myself and grabbed its arm and swung it into a nearby parked car. It looked like it was out of commission for the moment, but I wasn’t fast enough as the second one leaped on top of me from behind. I tried to stand back up, but its weight kept me off-balance.

  I thought I had the upper hand when I reached behind me to grab onto the freak, but I only grabbed its shirt; it slipped out of my grasp. I turned to look - it was female, or it used to be, and she had these claw-like fingernails that were snapped off at the edges. She swung her outstretched hand at me. I tried to dodge, but I wasn’t fast enough and her nails dug into and across my face, from one side to the other. I reeled from the impact and fell backward, fearing that she’d caught my eye in the swipe.