End of the Line

My days of zombie adoring ended on a rather slow Tuesday morning. Everything outside was quiet and seemingly peaceful—which in New Jersey was eerie and creepy. I didn’t think anything of the silence and I got up to get coffee after untangling myself from my bedsheets. Maybe a meteor hit the United States last night (it was in a movie I saw once) and there was a giant crater in front of my house. I could sleep through almost anything, so it could’ve happened. My mom ws a light sleeper though, so as soon as it impacted she would’ve been up and on the side of the patio gawking at the hole encompassing her lawn and garden while dust and debris plagued the air, slightly more than normal. That didn’t seem too bad. After all, I was alive, wasn’t I? And the distinct sound of my father snoring sounded softly from down the hall, so needless to say he was alive. I deemed that, if my father was alive, that my mother was alive and so was Mikey and his friend, Frank, who had slept over last night.

It was almost seven in the morning and the comic book store in New York City that I worked in opened at about eight-thirty. In that ballpark of an hour and a half I needed to: make coffee, wake my little brother and his friend up, shower, get dressed, eat something really fast, tell our parents goodbye, get in my van and drop them off at school (if they missed the bus, which chances are they would). After that, I’d turn on my radio really loud, crank down my window and let the air fuck up my hair as I headed onto the highway and into New York.

That routine had gotten me into work on time or nearly on time since I started working there last year. Sometimes I even had time to spare, which I would spend by taking the elevator to the top of the parking garage nearby and watching the sunrise. With it being winter and all, it rose really late. When I happened to be really lucky, I could convince my girlfriend Eliza, who worked there with me, to walk from her apartment a little early and join me. We would focus on the sun and how it made the formerly navy sky ripple with purples and golds, ignoring the tops of skyscrapers and the beginning of people’s works sounding from below us.

That wasn’t going to happen, though. As I stumbled down the cold hallway and into the kitchen in my t-shirt and pajama pants, I saw my mother sitting on the couch. So, a meteor hadn’t hit. I grumbled sadly underneath my breath and rounded the bend into the kitchen, wincing as the freezing white tiles stung my bare feet. It felt like someone had frozen a bunch of meat tenderizes and glued them to my floor; cold and prickly and really uncomfortable. “Fuck,” I hissed, almost running into the counter edge protruding into the room, “my balls are marbles now.”

My mother sat silently in the living room, her fingers tucked in between her warmly dressed thighs, her lower lip clenched between her teeth. There was no, “Gerard, please stop cursing” or “Why say things like that so early in the morning?” like there normally was. That alone caused me to peer my head around the corner while I started the coffee. If a meteor hadn’t hit, why was my mom staring at the TV like someone died?

So I finished the coffee and walked into the living room, sitting on the armchair to her left. “Ma’—what’s wrong? Did you not get enough sleep or something?” I asked quietly and leaned forward towards her. The tan color that once thrived in her cheeks was gone and in its place rested an ashen green, like she wanted to vomit but was too surprised to do anything but stare. “You not feelin’ good or something?”

Nothing left her pale lips. Not a “no”, not a sigh, not a grunt—not even an exhale. She didn’t do anything, actually. Just sat there like her world had come crashing down, her eyes flickering across the television screen so quickly that they appeared to be still. They looked scared and lost—what was she watching? Oh God—not one of my horror films! Everything scared my mother. Everything. Hopefully Mikey and Frank didn’t leave one of them in the VCR.

When I turned to check the TV, all I saw were news broadcasts with reporters frantically reading sheets of paper over and over that shook within their grips. The headline that flashed on the screen read, “UNDIAGNOSED DISEASE HITS EAST COAST. THOUSANDS DEAD, OTHERS HOSPITALIZED”. I took a moment to stare at the large words, taking in their meanings while swallowing hard. My brain started to produce tons of questions as I sank into the chair, a bitter taste staining my mouth. What did they mean by undiagnosed? Did they at least know how the disease was transferred? How did the people die? What were the symptoms? I wanted to scream at the reporter and shake him repeatedly; wanted to ask him why he didn’t know more about what was going on. He looked just as scared as my mother did, with his eyes wide with a look of hopelessness drowning the pupils and his hands shaking like they were trees in a massive storm.

Without much feeling in her voice, mom said, “There’s a new disease. Lots of people died yesterday of it. There isn’t any school today, but you should wake everyone up. Take Frank home.” Mother nodded to herself subconsciously and licked her lips. “And there’s a curfew now, in effect tonight at ten.” Then she moved her one of her hands and covered her mouth. Her fingers trembled just like the reporter’s.

“Ma’—I don’t really understand. What is this?” I whispered, leaning forward the best I could. The bitter taste in my mouth had grown stronger and had even begun to make my stomach hurt a little.

Slowly she moved her hand away from her mouth and to the top of her nightgown. Once there she fished out the necklace that she always wore, the chain bearing a cross of the same gold as the chain. Then she muttered in a quiet, solemn voice, “I think God is punishing us.” Even though she never went to church anymore, my mother was very into her faith. There was a rosary encased in a picture frame beside a Bible hung in the dining room, and in her bedroom nightstand there was the Bible that her mother had given her. She wasn’t into the church services much, nor the thinking that came from it, so she left the interpreting and the worshipping under her control, and hers alone. “Gerard, go wake up everyone, please.”

Despite the fact that I understood very little about this, I stood up and did what my mother asked. First door in the hallway was Mikey’s, so I went there first. In the bed, snuggly tucked underneath his covers, was my little brother Mikey, beside him with limbs distributed a bit of everywhere was Frank, and at their feet was Max's, my brother's dog. On went the lights and out came a grunt from three of them; Frank rolled back asleep although Mikey’s eyes cracked open, trying to adjust to the light while trying to make out my face while Max jumped off the bed and walked out of the room. “Gerard?” he yawned. His eyes flickered to the digital alarm clock at his bedside before they returned to me. “You’re like…fifteen minutes early.”

“There’s no school today,” I returned quietly.

“Oh thank God,” he mumbled. Taking that as “snow day”, he closed his eyes again.

“But Frank has to go home.” I leaned against the doorframe and hissed beneath my breath as the chill from the wood surged through my t-shirt. A shiver coursed through my body and charged the pain in my gut. My lips clamped together before I could groan, but I was pretty sure Mikey couldn't see my face, seeing as his glasses were on the table beside him. Thus, my face must have been a blurry mess of blacks and whites.

“Why?” The nightstand shook as Mikey’s arm flopped down on it, picking up the glasses after finding them. He slid them on his face and sat up slowly. Frank grumbled in protest, rolling into Mikey. He curled up like a small animal and let out a sound similar to that of a content cat. “What’s going on?” Mikey asked, just as I was sure he was going to start scratching Frank behind the ear.

“Mom says he needs to be with his mother.” As soon as the words left my mouth Mikey turned the radio on, cranking up the volume so that he could hear everything clearly. Was the distress in my voice and on my face that grave? Again Frank stirred. This time he woke up, stretching his arms in a less than graceful manor.

“Mikey—is it time already? I wanted to sleep…” Frank groaned as his hand hit the wall behind him. Then he grumbled again and began rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“School’s canceled,” I replied grimly. My hands met in front of my body and slowly began wringing themselves.

Even with the grimness in my voice, Frank didn’t catch on. He just smiled and headed for the window, almost tripping over the bedsheets that he had kicked off in his sleep. The sight that greeted him outside the window wasn’t what he expected, though. I could see it in his face as he turned to look at me. “There’s no snow,” he observed.

“I know. I could've told you that.”

“Shut up, the both of you,” Mikey grumbled before he turned the volume up even more, blocking Frank’s next observation from reaching my ears.

The guy on the radio heatedly rambled on about the new disease, explaining to them that they didn’t know much more than the listeners did. I could identify the distress in his voice, just like with mom and the reporter. There was something these people weren’t telling us. Was this a plague?

With a sudden flick of his wrist Mikey turned off the radio. “A disease?” He gawked at me and at Frank, who hadn’t left his post at the window.

“There’s a guy stapling orange papers to all of the telephone poles,” he chirped. Mikey and I both made our way over to the window, sandwiching the much shorter Frank between our bodies. “Thanks, I was a little cold…” he snorted softly. When he sensed the seriousness in the air he silenced himself with a quiet gulp.

CURFEW IN EFFECT AT 8:00 P.M.
NO SCHOOL UNTIL NEW DISEASE IS CONTAINED.
WATCH LOCAL NEWS FOR MORE INFORMATION.

“Shit…” Frank whispered. The bones in his back stiffened and straightened as he swallowed hard once more.

“Mikey, go wake up dad. And then come back and get dressed. We’ll take Frank home.” Between the three of us, there was so much fear in the unknown, which was unusual for us. But this was real life; not a movie with ghosts and vampires and zombies. Or so we thought.

“Wait!” Frank whined. The brunette chewed his lip before adding, “My mom’s not home. I’ll be all alone.”

“Do you think he could stay here with us?” asked Mikey without missing a beat.

“You’ll have to ask mom. But go wake up dad first,” I answered, and with that the two went to go wake up our dad. The kitchen was my destination. I would get a cup for myself and mom, leaving enough for dad and Frank if he wanted it. Mikey didn’t really drink coffee. Plus, I needed to call Eliza and see if work was still on. With all of the distress in the air, who would want a comic?

- - -

Work was canceled and the comic bookstore closed, along with most of the smaller shops in downtown New York City. Eliza didn’t know a lot more than I did, but she said that people downtown were frantic and that the streets were dead. I had been leaning against the kitchen sink, sipping my coffee when she said that. It caused me to look out the window to check my own neighborhood. Most of the family cars were in their driveways or in front of their respectful houses. And it was quiet.

That was the worst part: the silence. Where were the kids celebrating the fact that school was out? Where was the band music coming from the garages of teenagers that spent free days like these just playing in their garage? Until about ten there was only the occasional car parking in its driveway and the passenger’s rushing into their homes.

Then, only the wind hitting homes and windows, and the snow falling lazily from the congested skies above. New Jersey wasn’t New Jersey without the noise. I couldn’t even begin to fathom how eerie it must have been for Eliza to be in New York City amongst the quietness. And that was coming from a horror-junkie.

By eleven, the reports hadn’t changed much. Just the repetition of the little that we knew, spoken over and over. More people had died; no one had learned more about how someone got the disease, and of course no one knew how to cure it. There was something cryptic that they weren’t telling us, but I could see the distress rising in their bodies like mercury to a thermometer put in the stove.

We were all sitting ducks, awaiting more information from the safety of our homes. Or, what they claimed to be safety. We didn’t know enough about the disease to deem our homes safe yet. So, we were scared everywhere.

Especially poor Frank. He sat on the couch between Mikey and myself, picking and chewing at his nails and lips. Our house was a second home to him so it didn’t bother him that he wasn’t home during all of this, but what worried him was that his mother was out of town in Illinois on business. Was she okay? Had they been hit yet? The questions were etched on his face, and they dripped from his fingers in the form of blood when he bit his nails too short.

At eleven forty-five the reports changed drastically. Instead of the curfew that they had been counting down to in the bottom right corner, they were issuing an evacuation to the West. They reporters were too frantic to be totally clear, but we managed to get out “contagious through bites and fluid exchanging”, “no cure”, and “plague-like”. Also, the people that died from it “didn’t really die”. When they said that, one of the reporters ran off of the set. My mother ran out of the living room as well.

She returned fully dressed with her emergency kit, a napsack and a suitcase full of other things. I heard cans clink together from within the bag slung over her shoulder. Before anyone could ask, she sternly said, “It’s provisions. Everyone pack things. We’re leaving. My sister lives in South Dakota. We’ll call her on the way there and ask to stay.” Every trace of anxiety and fright had left her being. Now she was in charge like normal, standing tall with slightly flushed cheeks.

Everyone hopped off the couch, Frank being the last. His face was even more worried than before. “Frankie, don’t worry,” she cooed, as if sensing the emotions like they came out of his pores. “We’ll stop by your apartment and call your mother. Gerard, you take your van. You can drive Mikey, Frank and Max. Donald and I will follow behind you.” Max, Mikey’s Cocker Spaniel, barked at his feet, as if he knew that I had temporarily forgotten him. Without missing a beat Mikey silenced him, knowing how important it was to plan this out thoroughly.

“Can I call Eliza and tell her to come along?” I asked. “She doesn’t have any family and she only lives in NYC.” The bitterness that had lingered in my mouth returned, and with it the pain in my stomach. It had gone away for a few hours, but to my dismay it didn't plan on staying away.

“It’s your van, I don’t mind. But if she doesn’t get to Frank’s complex by the time we’re all done, we’re going to have to leave her, sweetheart,” was all she said before heading outside. Dad got up to get his stuff packed. Mikey went to his room, Frank behind him. I, too, headed for my room, but I pulled out my phone and called Eliza. She said she’d leave in a second and would speed there.

“I love you,” she whined softly.

“I love you, too,” I returned. “But everything will be fine. Nothing’s going to go wrong.” I smiled faintly and I could feel that she did the same, despite the fact that we knew the bigger picture wasn’t as optimistic as we were.

- - -

Frank’s neighborhood was congested, just like ours was. Cars filled with people and things were all going out towards the highway. The drivers didn’t yell at each other or honk, though. They just speed after one another like bats out of hell. Frank whined as I parked my van in the parking lot of his apartment complex, our parents behind us. Then he clamored out the back doors and ran up the stairs to his door, fidgeting with his keys all the while.

Together Mikey and I followed suit. We walked slowly behind Frank after securing Max in the van, not wanting to slip on the ice that he seemed to glide over. Once on the stairs I pulled out my phone, checking the time. Eliza should’ve been there by now, shouldn’t she? I swallowed the anxiety and walked down the corridor to Frank’s open apartment door.

Before I entered there was a series of car honks. Hopefully it was Eliza, so I turned around. Surely enough there she was, in the parking lot with her banged up jeep. I ran away from Frank’s apartment and down the stairs, not caring if I fell, and met her at the landing.

“This is so awful,” she whimpered as I hugged her.

The scent of her hair was calming as I tightened my arms around her. Her hair smelled like berries and cigarettes. I'm sure I smelt only a little different, swapping the berries for Axe. “I know, I know.”

“I hope you don’t mind if I brought friends—they had no where else to go, and I didn’t want to leave them.” Her words were fast, as if she would get shot down if I said no and leave her heart broken.

All I did was hug her tighter. What did I care if she let a couple of guys tag along? Hell, as long as they didn’t seem sick, I was fine! “Yeah, sure, whatever—that’s cool.”

“I’ll ride with them,” she added before a door slammed and something banged against another. Mikey and Frank came running down the steps shortly after.

“There’s something growling in the apartment next door,” Frank and Mikey said in stereo. With a bag over his shoulder, Frank headed for the van and hopped in. Max greeted him but was silenced by the doors slamming shut coldly.

“And it’s not an animal. Too big to be an animal,” Mikey whispered, out of breath.

I looked to the door and something banged against it. A piece of wood came splintering off of it. I cursed loudly, told Eliza to follow behind my van or my parents’ car and ran for my van. Fuck falling—there was something in that apartment building! Was that what those reporters meant when they said that things “didn’t really die”? If that thing was alive, shouldn’t it be able to call out or open the door itself?

All three cars sped out of the parking lot just like the cars before us. As we left the parking lot I saw that apartment door come slamming down, and with it a person—or, what I thought was a person. It got up as I was turning, and it limped for the stairs.

…They meant zombies, didn’t they?
Holy fucking shit.

I pushed on the gas more and sped forward, nearly rear ending the shitty gray Taurus in front of me. Piece of shit box!

Mikey squeaked and Max barked. Together again, Frank and Mikey calmed him. “What? What, Gerard?” Mikey squeaked.

Before I could answer him my phone rang. I forced it open and put it to my ear in time to hear my mom ask why I was going so fast. “They meant zombies. They fucking meant zombies.”

That time, she didn’t scorn me for my language either. She cursed herself and told my father to speed up as well.