The Reaper Virus by Nathan Barnes

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encounter was in my future.
     
    * * *
     
    0842 hours:
     
    I sat in the window box for maybe forty
minutes. The phones were ringing, but we’d stopped answering most
calls. I wasn’t the only one who was tired of lying to people.
    The sun slowly rose but it provided little
light. I was reminded of the late autumn fog that often radiated up
from the James River. Except this wasn’t fog, it was smoke.
Somewhere, Richmond was burning. However, a little light was
succeeding in breaking through the veil. I found myself transfixed
and sickened by watching the infected mob.
    The officers gave up their efforts on the
rooftop. I don’t know if it was to save ammunition or that they
just couldn’t stomach it any longer. A low wall of corpses
surrounded the front of our building, but I suspected that
eventually more would come. Through the commotion it was hard to
tell exactly how many stayed down. My guess was at least twenty had
stayed “dead.”
    A barrage of bullets may not have killed all
of them, but it certainly left a mark. Many had visible wounds that
would have killed a normal person. The most grisly was an infected
man wearing only his boxer shorts and one gray tube sock. It looked
as if a round struck him on his cheek and took much of the lower
jaw with it. His arm was wrapped in a filthy bandage and dried
blood coated his chest. Others had bullet wounds trailing viscous
crimson. There was one teenage looking girl who could have passed
for a normal person if it wasn’t for her movements.
    That was the other thing… how they moved. I
watched them closely. Their movements were both fascinating and
confusing. One moment they were still and rigid. The sight of most
reminded me of the “scarecrow” I saw at the other end of the
parking deck. Their heads hung limp on useless necks in any
direction, each sickening jaw snapping at the air.
    Across the sidewalk I caught a glimpse of one
as it vomited muck out like a fountain of bile. It stood just as
stiffly as the others with its head drooped forward. Even as it
spewed a disgusting mix all over itself its posture did not change;
mouth biting at nothing. Then something would get their attention.
In an instant, the creatures would turn from near statues into
rabid animals. It reminded me of a crocodile exploding from the
water at a shoreline to drag a meal into the water. Temporary
dexterity returned long enough for them to lunge arms out toward
whatever attracted them. Their heads would jolt to an upright
position with the jaw springing open at an unnatural angle.
    This burst of violent life was short lived. I
could understand how it would be an effective tactic for catching
prey. The crowd out front had gotten so dense that any lunges were
met with a fellow zombie or the side of our building. I wish I knew
what was causing them to randomly attack. Were they hearing
something? Seeing something? Even smelling something? Before long
they returned to their upright rigor. At least they had a short
attention span.
    Note to self: Don’t get
into a confined space with the infected. The lunge is fast enough
to spell doom without some room to maneuver.

Chapter 7
Escape Plan
     
    0900 hours:
     
    The corporal came into dispatch right after we
finished watching the frenzy that took place in front of the
building. He grabbed the security master key set from the key box
we oversee and a few minutes later he returned them and asked for
our attention.
    “I’ve manually locked all exterior doors to
our building. No one is to attempt exiting until help arrives. Keep
up the good work, we will get through this.”
    He’s always sucked as a commanding officer…
he sucks even more at lying.
     
    * * *
     
    1111 hours:
     
    I tried calling the house. The call didn’t
connect, and I’m pretty sure the problem was on my end. It seemed
like maybe one in ten calls got through. I had to tell myself it
was because of the phone network. If I started thinking about
something bad happening