Transformation Read online

  “Um . . . Hello. Who are you?” It was Mary. She stopped about twenty feet away and looked suspicious. She saw George, the gun, the look in his eyes and turned to run.

  George lifted the pistol.

  “No!” Alvin ran after Mary, caught her, clapped a hand across her mouth, and dragged her back over by George.

  “I won’t hurt you,” Alvin was whispering in her ear. “Please stop struggling.”

  Mary seemed to relax. Alvin held on tight.

  “I am going to let you go so we can talk, OK? Please don’t scream or try to run. That crazy bastard will shoot you.”

  Mary nodded and Alvin let go. He turned to George.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Told you. Pay back.”

  “With a hostage at gun point? A bomb?”

  Mary watched the two men argue in hushed tones wondering what she should do. She wanted to run or scream a warning but was too afraid. She didn’t want to get shot.

  Suddenly the fat man with the bloodied face and odd head covering, cracked Alvin in the head with his gun. Alvin was out cold. She took the opportunity and tried to escape.

  George grabbed Mary by the hair as she tried to flee and pulled her off her feet. He grabbed her by the throat and squeezed hard. He wanted to keep her quiet, and second he wanted to kill her. But she fought hard, kicking and scratching. He could see she was trying to scream and with perverse pleasure squeezed harder. He dropped his gun to get both hands on her neck so he could finish the job. He heard Alvin moaning and looked up. Alvin was stirring and soon to be conscious.

  Suddenly the blonde reached up and grabbed his bandanna. She pulled with all her might and tore it off. The blood had dried, cementing wounded flesh and cloth together, and when she tore it off his wounds were violently reopened.

  The pain brought a stream of tears to his eyes as he fought the intense urge to scream and vomit at the same time. He was losing his grip on the woman, Alvin was coming to, and the pain was so great he was sure he was about to pass out.

  George knew it was over. It was now or never. If she got away, she could warn her people, possibly go for the gun. His only option left to exact any revenge was to set off the bomb while he still could and take the structure down with all the assholes in it. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and with his thumb made a bright flame appear. He lit the gas soaked towel leading into the metal drum full of fertilizer and smiled at Alvin just as he opened his eyes.

  §

  Donna was tied to large metal racks welded into the back of the bread truck. Shortly after the asshole left, she heard a massive explosion. It was close by, and she worried about her husband, her friends, and wondered what the hell had happened.

  She fought against her bonds and only succeeded in abrading her wrists. She decided to work on the blindfold. She was gagged so tightly she knew she would need her hands free to get the gag off.

  She managed to get the blindfold up and off of one eye. Yep, a bread truck. At least now she could see her bindings. She was tied tightly. The man knew how to tie a knot. Her hands were cold and numb. The ropes were immovable. She was unable to slip off, undo, or cut through the ropes. The truck was empty. No knives laying conveniently next to her on the floor. She relaxed as much as she could, periodically trying her bonds.

  Hours later, Donna was in pain from the abrasions on her wrists. She’d spent a lot of her time looking over the knots and examining the vertical metal thing she was tied to. It was a solid support for the bread trays that slid into it. The sun was starting to set and she dreaded being in the dark alone.

  The night came and the quiet was as complete as the darkness. She considered yelling or kicking the truck walls to attract attention, but was worried she would only attract the dead. Mostly she was worried about Ron and wanted to know he was OK.

  When the sun dropped, the interior of the truck went from cool to cold and Donna shivered throughout the night. The bare metal seemed to suck the heat from her body and worse still she’d wet herself. Unable to keep it in, she had no choice but to let it go. She was getting really hungry too.

  As she struggled Donna knew she was hurting herself, but she had to keep struggling. It was disheartening that the ropes showed no sign of loosening but that didn’t stop her in her pursuit of freedom. She tried to control herself, but occasionally she’d lose it and fought violently against her bindings hard, abrading her skin even more. She was bleeding and could feel her blood on her arms and wrists as it made things more slippery, then sticky, until the blood started to dry and things started to feel tighter than before.

  Several hours passed and the truck was sweltering. Donna was starved, dehydrated, and her body hurt like hell—the parts she could still feel. Her hands and feet were cold and prickly. They were barely getting any blood in them. She was starting to lose hope.

  As she sat, back to the vertical support, hands crossed and tied behind her back, Donna looked at her feet. She was tied at the ankles, but not tied down. She could bend her legs, but that didn’t seem to help her situation other than to offer some comfort. She was getting weak and knew she had to find a way out soon or she would die. Once again, she struggled against her bonds and endured the pain and discomfort. Suddenly she felt a new pain.

  The metal edge of the bread rack she was tied to had snagged and torn her clothes as she struggled and finally it hit her skin. She winced at the pain as the metal edge scratched her. Her immediate thought was that she might be able to use the sharp edge to cut her ropes. But try as she might, Donna couldn’t get the ropes situated in the right way so she could effectively saw at them. She ceased her exertions and sobbed.

  Donna was beyond uncomfortable and past desperate. She had hoped to hear people calling her name as they searched for her, but all had remained silent. She was on the verge of yelling, pounding on the metal floor beneath her and was surprised she hadn’t yet done that. But she felt too vulnerable. If she attracted the dead and they got into the truck, she was dead in the worst possible way. Donna bent forward in resignation. She had no more energy to fight.

  Donna brought her knees up to her face and almost got them close enough that she could rest her head in them. But even that small comfort eluded her. She started to squirm, trying to get blood to circulate in her body. She pushed out with her feet, brought them in, and kicked out again. As she pushed against the floor, the motion gave her the idea that she might be able to stand if she wanted to. And she did so fairly easily when she tried.

  Standing was wonderful. The blood flowed back into her body, and she could breathe easier. Once standing, she could bend forward and see out of the front windshield. She saw nothing but trees.

  To bend forward she had to slide her hands down the support. She decided to stretch her back and the back of her legs so she continued bending forward, her hands getting lower until she could place her forehead against her shins. This was a stretch she did all the time before she ran, just not with her hands tied behind her back.

  She could smell her own urine with her face down by her soaked jeans. She was itchy and uncomfortable and wished she could take them off. With her face down on her shins, she could see the bindings on her ankles. She wished she could use her teeth to work on the ropes but was still too far from them.

  As she started to straighten up, it occurred to her that she could get herself into a different position now. She bent all the way back down and picked up one foot and placed it back through her arm and then did the same for the next. She could now lift her legs up and stand briefly on her head. She brought her legs over and was laying on her back with her hands above her head. Not only was she more comfortable she could examine the ropes on her wrist and more importantly position them on the edge of the metal support. With renewed hope, she started sawing at her bonds.

  She could only manage small slow strokes, but now she knew she was going to escape. Even if she had to saw at those ropes for hours on end, at least now she had a goal, a way out
. She wasn’t going to stop until she was free. But even if she were free of her bindings, she would still be trapped inside the truck.

  The explosion had attracted the dead for miles and miles around. Hundreds of thousands of corpses were converging on the structure from all over the city. But there were already a few clumps of the dead nearby and one of them was making its way towards the structure just yards from the bread truck.

  Several dead faces turned at the sound of thumping. They shambled over towards a large delivery truck and surrounded it.

  18.

  It was after sunrise. Jeff and Wendy had slept the night and were getting up, ready to move on.

  “We have a problem.” Jeff said as he stood urinating over the edge of the roof.

  “Yeah?” Wendy lowered herself from the fan box and stretched her back.

  “We are surrounded,” Jeff finished pissing on the dead gathered below. He zipped up and turned. “We need to find a way off this roof and past the swarm.”

  Wendy had walked over and was standing next to Jeff.

  “Wish I could piss of the roof like that,” she said with a straight face.

  Jeff just looked at her, understanding the practicality of the statement but not sure what he was supposed to say.

  “You have any ideas?”

  “About pissing off a…” Jeff had a few ideas already.

  “No.” Wendy looked at him like he was stupid.

  “I mean ideas for getting out of here.”

  “Oh that. Yeah. OK. I always have ideas,” Jeff was staring.

  “Are you thinking or did you shut down?” Wendy asked.

  Jeff just waved her off and wandered away.

  Wendy nodded. “OK. Well, we may be up here for a while so we can at least get down into these stores and try and find some food.”

  “Got that covered,” Jeff said and started walking across the roof.

  Wendy followed Jeff to a small box that was maybe eight inches high but a good three by three feet wide. Jeff chuckled as he kicked at the padlocked roof hatch.

  “You going to break the lock?” Wendy asked.

  “No.”

  “Pick it?”

  “No. No. Look. These doors are solid, welded to a solid frame, and locked with a commercial grade padlock.”

  “So you can’t open it?”

  “I don’t need to open the hatch. I just need to remove it.

  Jeff pulled a rather large screwdriver from his coat. He stuck it under a frame of thin metal that surrounded the hatch and started prying.

  “You see. The hatches are solid but they are usually installed with a few nails and some roofing tar.”

  Jeff pried for a few minutes and soon was able to lift the entire box up and over.

  “I should go first.” Jeff said and disappeared into the darkness below. He was quick about it but it took Wendy a bit longer to get herself over the edge and onto the ladder. Jeff was on the floor before she was halfway down.

  The store was dark and still. The place didn’t smell bad compared to the stores that were full of things that rotted, spoiled, and putrefied. The ladder put them in the rear of the store behind the walls of a small storeroom. Light from the open hatch made it possible to see well in a small area, the rest of the store fell off into darkness.

  They entered a break room and both searched the cabinets out of habit more than any other reason. They both also had the experience to know not to open the fridge. The sights and smells of a refrigerator stuffed with rotting food was one you only needed to have once.

  As they entered the main store light from the front windows made it possible to see the familiar hanging signs and shelves of electronics and associated goods. Games, DVDs, speakers, cell phones . . . Jeff pocketed a few things as he passed through.

  “Upfront they usually have all sorts of food.” Jeff said.

  “You mean crap.”

  “Yeah, edible crap.” Now Jeff looked at Wendy like she was crazy. He wasn’t sure if he was offended at her lack of gratitude or condemnation of the crap he loved to eat.

  There were a few coolers but even with the power off, they contained water and beverages that were still safe to drink. Jeff was sucking down a caffeine drink and searching the long row of shelves desperately, moving quickly to the other end.

  “Aw yeah.” He’d found the chips, lots of chips. He grabbed a large plastic bag from behind a register and started filling it with all he could carry, starting with the Doritos.

  Wendy picked up packages of snack foods and sneered. She sipped a water, nibbled on some shortbread. “Sorry this stuff just makes me feel so bad when I eat it.”

  Jeff had no response. He was stuffing a bag full of snacks and magazines then started to tie it shut.

  Wendy wandered over to the doors and peeked out. From an angle, she could see the dead outside. Something about them gave her pause. She watched as they stood, swaying. A few dropped as she watched, she noticed a couple already on the ground. The dead weren’t pounding the door and trying to get in. She decided to try something.

  She walked in front of the door and tapped the glass. The dead reacted as one, moaning and slapping the glass, but it was lackluster. They slowed and stopped after a few moments. Several more dropped during that time.

  Jeff was sitting on a counter eating chips and looking at an old game magazine when Wendy approached. He stopped and looked up at her, something he would normally never do, but he sensed her concern. Jeff found that the more he interacted with people he liked and trusted, the more he opened himself up to them, the more aware he was of their moods and feelings. It was very distracting.

  “Everything OK?”

  “There’s something weird going on with the dead. They’re different now.”

  “What’d you mean?”

  “They look . . . “ No words fit. Sick? Dying? “They look like they are dying. You know what I mean.”

  Jeff was at the door. More of them were dropping. The remaining corpses wavered, slumped, and struggled to stand. Most of them dropped too.

  “I guess that is a good thing,” Jeff said.

  “For sure. It’s bad enough being the last people on earth without those fucking things running around.”

  Jeff looked at the hundreds of corpses in front of the door. A good fifty percent were dead or on the ground dying already.

  “I still don’t want to walk through all that, even if they are dead,” Jeff said.

  Wendy nodded and shuddered at the thought of walking through the sea of dead bodies.

  Jeff watched as the corpses dropped for a few more minutes and wondered why such a good thing made him feel so uneasy. He shrugged and left the window, but the feeling lingered.

  What’s bothering me so much about this? He kept asking himself but an answer wasn’t immediately forthcoming.

  19.

  Cullen backed away laughing.

  Sal was furious. As he stood, he considered attacking the asshole.

  “Oh man.” Cullen was still laughing, but he had the presence of mind to keep his gun trained on Sal—his loaded gun.

  Sal had almost wet himself. It all happened so fast he didn’t have time to move out of the way or defend himself. But Cullen had simply held one gun to his head and fired the other at the ground.

  The others, all but Eddie, laughed too. Even Egg was chuckling. When he laughed it sounded like a wet fart. He kept his mouth closed and the sound came from his nose. He was blowing snot bubbles and squinting his eyes tight. Sal could see now the poor kid had a severely cleft palate.

  Cullen raised his rifle. “Now this one’s loaded.”

  Sal was pissed. He no longer looked at these kids as kids but the enemy. He stood and looked over each face. The Asian kid was the only one that seemed at all decent. He and the bearded guy seemed to be the most intelligent. If he were to get any help, it would be from the Asian kid.

  “OK.” Cullen rocked on his heels, clearly pleased with himself. “We are not going bac
k without your little girlfriend. So where did she go?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Where is your group staying?”

  “What group?”

  Cullen kicked Sal in the shin with his heavy boots.

  Sal bent over and grabbed his shin, rubbing it vigorously. He looked at Cullen with an expression of disbelief and thought. What a pussy move. Didn’t little kids kick people in the shins like that?

  “Gerald, you want a shot?”

  Gerald smiled with glee, his zits reddened, and he ran full steam at Sal.

  Sal watched the kid barreling towards him in disbelief. Does the moron think I am going to stand still for this? Didn’t he ever read the Peanuts?

  When Gerald finally got to him, he stopped for a split second to cock his leg back for the field goal kick. Sal pulled his leg away right before impact and Gerald’s leg shot out from under him and he landed on his ass, hard. There was a loud bonk as his head hit the pavement. He rolled over, clutching at his skull, and shrieking at the pain much louder than warranted.

  Sal couldn’t help but smile. Just like Charlie Brown, he thought.

  Everyone laughed, everyone except Gerald. He stood up, red faced and angry. His pimples darkened, the pus filled heads stood out in sharp contrast. They looked on the verge of bursting. He rushed Sal and tried to punch him.

  Sal avoided the clumsy blow and pushed the kid backwards and down on his ass again. For all his fatty bulk, Gerald was a head shorter than Sal and had a fraction of the muscle mass. He rose and danced behind Cullen.

  “Shoot him! Shoot him!”

  Cullen planted his hand in the center of Gerald’s chest and pushed him down on his ass once again.

  “Now stay down,” Cullen screamed.

  The fat kid looked like he was about to cry. He sat, beet red and glaring at Sal.

  “You look like an idiot, Gerald. A big fat weak idiot,” he yelled. Then he turned to Sal completely composed. He shrugged at Sal as if to say, good help is hard to find. He turned back to Gerald. “Now you tried to take more than one shot. I asked you if you wanted to take one shot, not three.”