Bodies for Christ’s sake! Just laying everywhere and no one coming to take them away. He’d not seen the police, nor any of the National Guard, no one. Random people walked or staggered around the streets below. He watched as dogs fought over the bodies. Jerking and pulling them in grotesque ways, and he gagged, forcing himself to turn away from the window. An hour later saw him at the window again, watching.
“What in the hell?” He cried, when he saw a streak of orange and black run across the street and into the alley. Had that been a tiger?
“A tiger for Christ’s sake? Who the hell let the tigers out? Jesus Christ.” He screamed at the window, his fists pounding on the window frame. If the virus wasn’t bad enough, some dumbass had let out the animals from the zoo! What had they been thinking? Lions, tigers, bears, all of those predators loose in the city? My god, he thought, he’d have to worry about them as well. He needed a gun. Where in the hell was he going to get one? He’d have to locate a firearms dealer, or a store and get some weapons.
His brain was in overload, with the virus, possible starvation and now this. He wanted to shrink down and just disappear. He watched out the window, looking for more animals. Sometimes, he saw a car pass by. The cars swerved to miss the bodies, sometimes though, he’d see a car bounce and knew that it had run over one of the bodies. It was all too grizzly; it was all too surreal. Flynn had texted his friends, afraid to leave his apartment. He’d urged Cramer Appleton, his best friend and also drinking buddy, to quit work or at least take a vacation. Cramer hemmed and hawed. That was almost two weeks ago, Flynn had texted him five days ago and he’d heard nothing back. He’d called and left messages. He’d called Cramer’s job and no one answered.
Flynn then texted Roger Lower, and Roger didn’t answer back. He went through his list of names and contacts and one by one, no one answered, no one texted back. No one. He clutched the TV remote to his chest. He went back to the couch and sat down. Bending over at the waist, he rocked and tried to breathe. He knew he was having a panic attack and was helpless to stop it. He got up from the couch and walked to the window. He was wearing a groove in the carpet.
“This is bullshit. Why isn’t anyone answering?” he muttered to the dirty window. Flynn’s fingers wove through his dirty blond hair and pulled. He was beginning to go crazy, cooped up in his apartment, with the reek seeping through the walls. He had to get out of his apartment, but he knew that was a very bad idea. Five minutes later, he found himself going to his front door and walking out with his car keys in hand. He went to the elevator and cursed when it didn’t work. The power was out, he reminded himself. He went to the stairs and opened the door. It was dark.
Pulling out his lighter, he lit it and made his way down the four flights of stairs quickly. He opened the door to the outside, bent over and vomited. The pong outside was horrendous, heavy and cloying. Though it was only April, the warm spring sun was heating up the dead.
Ropes of saliva hung from his mouth as he gripped his stomach. His body shuddered violently. Hot tears flowed freely from his eyes as he squeezed them shut. The smell was beyond anything he’d experienced before. It seared his throat and bit deep down into his gut. With a shaky hand, he wiped at his mouth and turned, back to the building and went back up the stairs to his floor, running quickly, staggering and tripping. Reaching the door, he burst through and slammed the door and locked it. Sliding down with his back against the door, tears falling down his face, Flynn screamed in anguish, rage and self-pity and a heavy dose of fear.
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Brian looked up when the lights flickered off and then back on. His generator started up and he smiled. That had been the best investment he could have hoped for. The generator would run for approximately a week before the fuel was out. That would give him time to plan and get his shit together. He knew he couldn’t stay here at the house, as much as he wanted to. He’d spent the last few days going over YouTube videos, he was sure that at some point, that too would die and it had. He’d lost his internet yesterday evening. But not before he’d amassed a large amount of knowledge on how to and DIY videos.
He’d been getting to know Cooper, who’d begun to come out of his shell. The child hadn’t asked to go back to his home after the first day living with Brian. Brian had given the boy a bath, and had dressed him in clean clothing and put him into the spare bedroom, he’d
