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ZE Outbreak Novel, Chapter 8
🕑 Added 2025-10-30 17:41:39 +0000 UTCSam’s apartment, 8:15 PM, Wednesday, May 9, 2012
With everything packed, I moved everything right by the door and crossed the hallway to Amber’s apartment. I barely knocked before the door opened, and Amber stood on the other side in jeans and a flannel shirt with her hair in a tight braid. A backpack stood on the couch, and she had a huge flashlight somehow hooked to her belt.
“I’m ready to go,” she said, picking up the backpack and slinging it over both shoulders. She slipped on hiking boots and double-knotted them. After they were tied, she stood up next to me to show me her phone. “You said your brother lives in Bryn Mawr, so I looked up roads. There are street closings, and this emergency app has a display that shows military checkpoints. Highways are being blocked, because it looks like they are trying to contain people, which makes total sense.”
“You did all this in twenty-five minutes?”
“Yeah, I packed everything I thought we would need: protein bars, some canned salmon I had left over from before my last trip, extra inhalers, stuff like that. I’m assuming we’re not coming back until all this is over.”
She was talking fast, but it all made sense. Even though I half-expected to show up and find her sitting catatonic on the couch, here was this amazing woman packing and researching travel routes. I felt more in love with her in that moment. And I was pissed at myself for assuming she would hold me back. I might have needed her more than she needed me.
My phone buzzed, and I looked down to see her name on my screen along with a photo I programmed with her profile of the last time she was in town. Her hair was a little shorter, and she had on a floral summer dress–
“Sam, are you listening to me?” she asked, nudging my arm. “I texted you a map that shows the way to Gabriel’s house. The National Guard’s setting up new blockades every hour. If we leave now, we might not get boxed in. I left the way around most checkpoints, but there’s one we can’t skip. I don’t know any other way to get to him.”
A notification flashes on the top of her phone as a banner.
CitizenWatch: Just saw one of them at the grocery store! This is real!!!
Her thumb trembles as she sweeps the message away. “I jumped on this app that has real-time updates from people around Philly with what they’re seeing out there. Every few minutes, someone sees an infected person,” she says, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.
“You’ve done more than me. Let’s get going.”
I grabbed a small gym bag she had on the floor near the couch, and she grabbed a golf club from behind the kitchen island. When I glanced at it, she smiled. “I got hit with one of these in the leg at a golf course in Bermuda. It hurt like hell, so I figure if any infected come at me—” She practices a swing, stopping just short of hitting a kitchen chair.
We stepped into the hallway together, and I felt her thread her fingers through mine. As I got to the stairwell, she pulled me to the elevator.
“We have to conserve our energy,” she said, pressing the button.
She was right again. I swear, if I didn’t have her, I wouldn’t survive this mess, although the jury’s still out on whether I’ll make it a week in the Apocalypse.
The floor indicator dinged, but before the elevator came, Mrs. Redmond from 4C came into the hallway.
“Sam, are you heading to the store? I need milk if you don’t mind.” She held a paper bill up and gave me a wide smile.
“Sorry, Mrs. Redmond—”
“Margaret.”
“Right, Margaret, we’re heading on a trip and won’t be back soon.”
The wrinkles on her face scrunched up. “Oh, where are you heading?”
The elevator doors opened, and Amber stepped in, giving my hand a small tug.
“Just to the Poconos for a few days—"
Amber gave me a yank, and I stumbled a few steps into the elevator. She placed P for the parking lot and mashed her hand repeatedly on the Close button. When the doors closed, Amber shot me a sideways glance with a smile.
“You can flirt with your other girlfriend later,” she said.
When the elevator doors opened, the parking lot opened in a grayish light. Gasoline stains marked areas of the concrete, and the whole place smelled like cigarette smoke. Some guy was talking on his phone a few rows of cars away.
“…I’m telling you the truth. She bit the guy right in the calf like he was one of those big turkey legs at the god damn Renaissance fair…”
A car alarm wailed somewhere in the lot as Amber hurried me toward my Honda, parked seven spaces away. I popped the trunk, tossed our gear inside, and we both climbed in fast. The engine roared to life, and the radio blared too loud.
“The Pentagon claims reports of violence are exaggerated, while the CDC insists it’s premature to use terms like ‘pandemic.’ In other news, the Dow Jones Industrial Average plunged—”
Amber snapped off the radio and buckled her seatbelt.
As soon as we pulled out of the parking lot, I knew there was no turning back. The street outside our building looked nothing like home. An overturned SUV blocked half the intersection, its wheels still spinning and doors hanging open. Broken glass covered the sidewalk, and someone had smashed in the windows of the corner deli. Looters ducked through the opening, arms loaded with snacks and liquor, moving fast and not bothering to hide. Part of me wanted to get out and defend the place, but the risk and the need to get to Gabriel’s kept me in the car. I could tell my humanity was going to be tested from here on out.
Amber gripped the door handle, her eyes wide as we passed. People darted between stalled cars, clutching backpacks, pushing carts piled high with whatever they could grab. A little farther up, I caught the flicker of flames as someone had torched a row of recycling bins, and thick smoke rolled up, turning the sky a sick shade of gray.
The sirens never stopped. Somewhere nearby, a National Guard Humvee idled at an intersection. Soldiers shouted warnings I couldn’t make out over the chorus of alarms and horns. Police tape snapped in the wind, cordoning off side streets and bus stops smeared with blood. Every block we crawled forward, the city looked more like a war zone and less like Philadelphia.
“This is unreal,” Amber muttered, her mouth hanging open. It was a look of pure shock and bewilderment.
At one red light, I caught movement in the alley to my right. A hunched figure staggered in the shadows, bent double over something on the ground. Even from the car, I could see the way its arms jerked as it fed. Gunfire echoed in the distance, and someone shouted for help behind a pile of dumpsters before the voice cut off, swallowed by the noise. No matter which way I looked, the outbreak was closing in.
Every block we drove, the city squeezed tighter. Barricades of traffic cones and shopping carts blocked the bigger intersections. Road signs flashed warnings: QUARANTINE IN EFFECT. NO THROUGH TRAFFIC. The usual routes to Bryn Mawr were gone. Amber leaned over her phone, swiping through her map and calling out turn after turn.
"Left here," she said, barely glancing up. "If we stay on Chestnut, we’ll hit another barricade. Cut over to Walnut."
I wrenched the wheel, tires skidding as I dodged a city bus abandoned sideways in the street. My hands ached from how hard I gripped the steering wheel. Every other block, we’d have to slam on the brakes and find a new way around. National Guard trucks rolled slowly past intersections, soldiers posted with rifles at the ready, faces unreadable behind their visors.
Amber reached out and squeezed my arm. “Tell me the plan. Tell me all the details. I need destruction but I need to know what to expect.”
"We grab Gabriel, then we head north. Jack has a cabin in the Poconos, up near Lake Wallenpaupack. If anything goes wrong, if we get separated or whatever, meet me at the rest stop on I-476, Exit 32. We don’t stop for anyone, and we avoid the city centers, understood?"
Her fingernails dug into my skin. “What do you mean ‘get separated?’”
I glanced over at her. “Anything can happen out here. We need a contingency plan. I’m not saying we are going to get separated, but if we do, you know where to go.”
Amber nodded, shutting her map app. “And what exactly did you bring? What is everything we have?”
"I’ve got a Remington, a Glock, an AR, extra ammo, first aid kit, water, and food bars. What did you bring?”
She licked her lips. “I brought energy bars, canned food, water bottles, backup inhalers, prescriptions, some cash, and a knife. I got a heavy flashlight a few years ago in one of those stupid Christmas gift exchanges, and I brought a nine iron, I packed light with clothes, batteries, and my charger. And I can drive if you ever need a break."
I nodded. "If anything happens, we keep moving. From now on, we don’t look back."
Traffic made no sense anymore. Cars darted the wrong way down side streets, people honking and screaming. At one intersection, a man pounded on our window, his face streaked with blood and tears. "Please! Take my kid. Get us out!" I saw no kid, hit the locks, and shook my head, not meeting his eyes. Amber stared straight ahead, jaw tight, but didn’t say a word.
The city felt like it was closing in on us. We rolled past a police cruiser up on the sidewalk, its doors hanging open, windshield spiderwebbed with cracks. A blue tarp covered something in the street, stained dark at the edges. Fires burned in barrels near a loading dock, shadows flickering as people huddled close, eyes tracking every car that passed.
Amber squeezed my arm once. "We’re going to make it.”
I didn’t answer. I just pressed harder on the gas.
We crawled through the broken streets, and every turn and insersection had a new barricade or tangle of cars. Amber kept switching from watching the GPS and the road ahead. I could see her knuckles whiten every time I braked too hard.
Outside, the city looked shredded. A car shot through a red light, engine howling and bumper dragging sparks along the pavement. Sirens shrieked from somewhere nearby. I caught a glimpse of a body under a tarp by a fire hydrant, but only a pair of shoes stuck out. Police tape flapped in the wind.
Amber scanned the sidewalks. "Do you see any—"
"Not since we left our block," I said. I was watching every road and alley. Twice, I caught hunched figures lurching in the shadows, moving slowly, and feeding on something I didn’t want to name.
Traffic kept twisting. Cars cut us off, driving the wrong way down one-way streets, horns blaring, and drivers screaming at each other out open windows. A woman ran up to our car at a stop, pounding on the passenger glass. "Please, let me in! Please!" Her face was wild with terror, blood streaking her cheek. I shook my head and rolled past. Amber flinched but kept her mouth shut.
I watched for soldiers, for anything in uniform, but the National Guard trucks we passed never even looked at us. Fires burned in trash barrels by a church, shadows dancing behind the flames. I wondered how many people would survive the night.
"Do you think Gabriel’s ready?" Amber’s voice was barely a whisper. “Should you call him?”
I hesitated. "He knows I’m coming." How could I tell her I was going to kidnap my brother?
We hit a red light at a wide intersection. The city was deserted except for an old man shuffling across the crosswalk, clutching a plastic bag. He shuffled across the crosswalk, each step dragging like he was wading through mud. The light changed before he’d even made it halfway.
Then I saw the thing limping after him. Its shirt was torn, its skin an ugly yellow-green, and its jaw was working as if it were chewing on a piece of its own lip.
I froze. The human part of me said, “get the hell out and hope this guy!” The pragmatic side said, “keep going, this is not your fight.” It wasn’t like an angel and a devil on each shoulder, but two little demons shouting through my ears at one another.
Fate intervened. Actually, it was Amber. Her hand shot out, gripping my arm. “Sam, do something!”
Everything in me balked at the idea. Risk versus reward. Was one stranger worth it? I looked at Amber and saw what not acting would mean in her eyes. My hesitation pulled her eyes into a V, and her lips were twisting into a scowl.
I spun the wheel to my right and slammed my foot on the gas. The car leapt forward. The bumper hit the zombie dead-on. The body snapped up onto the hood, teeth bared, as it clawed at the windshield. A spiderweb of cracks burst across the glass. It slid down the hood, slamming into the pavement, then started to drag itself up again, hands thumping against metal.
The impact didn’t faze it, even though its right hip now hung lower than the right, and a bone stuck out of its thigh.
The old man collapsed in the street, face down, legs twisted under him. Amber was already throwing open her door.
“Amber! Stay—”
Too late. She sprinted to the man’s side, ducking low to haul him upright, her arms hooked under his shoulders.
I cursed and yanked my Glock free as I shoved open my door.
The zombie was already back on its feet, head lolling, a string of blood swinging from its jaw. It fixed on Amber and the old man, shuffling toward them with that crooked gait. And somehow it was moving faster than before I hit it.
I should explain that I felt no moral pull to help the man. That part of my brain never fully developed. On the other hand, the infected was heading right for Amber. I wasn’t going to let it touch her.
This undead thing was too close to them, and I couldn’t play ping-pong with it and my car. I hopped out the driver’s side and yelled, “hey, over here!”
For a split second, it found, and dead eyes met mine. Whatever lived behind that stare wasn’t human. It turned on its broken axis and barreled towards me.
I wasn’t going to play games like I did in the kitchen of Amber’s father’s house. I raised the pistol, thumbed off the safety, and pulled the trigger. The shot boomed out, echoing between the buildings. The bullet punched through its skull, snapping its head back. Momentum carried it a few feet before it face planted to the asphalt.
A window above slammed shut. Someone screamed, “Gun!” A siren wailed somewhere farther off. My hands barely shook. If anything, I felt something cold and electric move through me.
Amber hauled the old man upright and helped him toward the sidewalk. He mumbled something, clutching his side, and stumbled away towards the front of a rowhouse. Good ol’ Amber, kind, sweet woman, followed him onto the stone porch and used his keys to get the door open.
“Come on, come on, come on,” I murmured as I slid back into the car. My eyes went side to side as I searched for any signs of danger. Anything could pop out from anywhere. One minute you’re walking down the street, and the next you’re running from a pack of nightmares.
Finally, she hurried back to the car and slid into the passenger seat, breathing hard. She looked at me, her eyes bright with adrenaline. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank me. You did all the work.”
It felt like the right thing to say, and she reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
I put the car in drive and peeled away from the intersection, glass crunching under the tires, sirens crying behind us. My heart hammered from something dangerously close to exhilaration.
As we moved again, I stared at my hands on the wheel, the memory of the shot replaying in my head. Why did it feel good? Was it because I’d saved someone? Or was it because the thing I killed was already lost, and I’d been waiting for a chance to let this part of myself out?
