"If you could, please tell those watching the steps you've taken to secure the park area and make it safe."
"Certainly," the Colonel said. "We've secured a perimeter covering nearly half the park at this time, and are working to expand it. High fences and concrete roadblocks have been put in place to prevent access, and we have experienced soldiers patrolling the entire length constantly. At this time, outside of your own home, this is the safest place in the city to be."
"Thank you, Colonel. I understand you have a lot to do, so we'll let you get back to it," Candice told him with a smile, getting a nod from the Colonel as he vanished from the camera's view. "There you have it, Chet. Back to you."
The screen flickered back to the newsroom, but Chet wasn't looking at the camera, he was looking off to the side, a piece of paper in his hand. "You're sure about this?"
Silence, then Chet looked at the paper. "I'm not reading this until you can say you're positive." More silence as Chet nodded at whoever he was talking to off-screen. Finally, visibly shaken, he nodded again and turned back to the camera.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I've just been handed new information about events transpiring in the city, and as hard as it is to believe, much less report to you, I'm told this has been verified, and is, in fact, the truth."
He paused, hands toying with the paper for a moment. "Reports have been confirmed at this time that many of the affected roaming the streets tonight are, in fact, dead."
Chet choked a bit, covering his mouth as he struggled with it. "What I'm trying to say, is that those who have been affected, even after death, are still capable of rising, walking, and attacking. While I can barely believe it myself, I'm assured it’s true, and I ask that you accept it as well, for your own safety."
"Shit, meet fan," Dale muttered, throwing the empty whiskey bottle across the room.
A loud noise off-camera drew Chet's attention. "Folks, it appears there's a commotion in the studio. I'm not sure what it... oh, God. They've gotten in, or someone in the studio was affected, I can't be sure, but I'm told they’re in the building and attacking people as I speak."
Gunfire in the distance made several people in the club jump. "My producer is telling me that... are you certain?" Chet listened intently for a moment, then nodded. "I've just been told that damaging the head can cause the affected to slow, or stop altogether. Be it from gunfire, or a blunt object."
A scream echoed off-camera. Chet looked away, then back at the camera. "It looks as if we're being overrun. Our best efforts have failed. Please, for the love of God, stay in your homes, and be quiet. Noise attracts them, I think, and..."
Several gunshots sounded, close by. Chet jumped, looked away and stared for a long time. Bunny realized she was sitting on the edge of her seat now, as was everyone around her.
When Chet turned back to the camera, he seemed resigned. "They're in the production booth. I don't think we have long here, so before we turn everything over to the news van and Candice, let me just say, it's been an honor to serve the public these last 40 years. Please, be safe, everyone, and may God have mercy on our souls."
Several screams echoed close by. The camera jerked and fell. Chet began to scream as feet filled the view, then suddenly, Chet's face as he was pulled over the desk. The unblinking eye of the camera showed all as they ripped into him, but only for a few moments. The screen flickering back to Candice, who stood, hand over her mouth, eyes wide with horror, shaking her head.
Bunny got up and walked across the room, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the television. There was nothing more to see, she knew. This wasn't a local thing, it was happening all over the country, probably all over the world. It wasn't terrorists, or in her mind, the judgment of God.
She didn't know what it was, didn't even care, but she did know one thing for certain. That newsroom had been a very secure place, built long ago, and able to withstand almost anything. If they had gotten in there, they would and could get into the club.
It was only a matter of time, and they were nothing more than sardines, waiting for the dead to open the can and eat their fill.
Chapter Five
IT WAS 1:30 in the morning. Candice was still on the television, trying to hand out what information she could. Occasionally, weapons’ fire could be heard, along with helicopters or soldiers barking orders. Vehicles and formations of troops would pass behind her, always in a hurry.
At some point, Bunny couldn't say when, the top of the Palmolive Building had exploded. The Lindbergh Beacon had crashed to the ground, ending the debate about its use once and for all. Candice had no information about the explosion, and Bunny expected no one did.
She sat on the far stage, smoking a cigarette, Sheila's corpse behind her. She'd given them up years ago, but figured what the hell. Most everyone else was watching the TV, engrossed in the slow collapse of the world they knew. From time-to-time, Randy would switch back to a cable news channel, but that was just more depressing.
Whatever this was, it was spreading like wildfire. It was all over the United States, from Los Angeles to New York. The President and his cabinet had been moved to a safe location, or so they were reporting, and the military was in full rollout mode, assisted by the National Guard wherever possible.
