Sonata
Trickling away
- 13,650
- Posts
- 12
- Years
- Seen Feb 17, 2025
Through some friendly advice I've decided to start writing some short stories to get the feel of what actually seeing something through to the end feels like before I try to flesh out and commit to more time consuming ideas. I'm not really great with deciding what constitutes what rating, so we'll just go ahead and say it'll all be rated M. So far I've got one story finished and am in the process of writing another, so we'll see how this goes.
1. Just a typical zombie story
John walked over to the sink and began to wash his bowl out. The water splashed up on his suit as his daughter slammed in to his back, struggling to wrap her arms around his waist as she hugged him.
"Do you have to go daddy?"
John sighed and turned off the water, grabbing a paper towel and wiping the milky mixture from his suit and tie as he turned around. His daughter hung around his waist, her feet resting on top of his as he moved over to the trash can and threw the towel away.
"Margaret," John shouted up the stairs. "Margaret, come and get Marley! I have to go to work dammit! I don't have time for this right now!"
The girl hanging from the businessman's waist giggled as he grew more flustered. Marley loved her father and hated to see him leave, and even though he'd curse and grow angry at her she'd continue on with this routine every morning. As little time and energy as it took to pry the two apart, the child cherished the moments together with her father.
John - short for Johnathan, a name he'd not gone by since he was a child - was a very wealthy businessman and owner of several shops in the downtown area. His work kept him until from eight in the A.M. to midnight and sometimes even later. His primary work as a Manager for a high-end restaurant kept only lasted until two P.M., however the rest of his day and night was almost always devoted to his plethora of other business investments. Several bars, smaller eateries and mall kiosks were registered under his name and each required at least a small portion of his time on a daily basis to ensure all was stocked and running as planned. The man had a family who he loved and who loved him, but never the time to show them just how much they meant to each other.
Margaret came down the stairs of their two-story home, throwing the ties of her nightgown across her waist as she hurried over to their daughter. She placed a light peck on her husband's cheek before reaching down to pry their daughter from his leg. The child let out a loud wail as she pulled on the baggy pants leg of the man's suit, and continued to cry even after she'd lost her group and he'd headed out the door. The mother put the child in her seat at the kitchen table and started to pull out some of the frozen breakfast burritos which she knew to be the only thing able to calm the young girl this time of morning.
John sat inside his car, parked in the driveway for several minutes just as he did every morning. He took in the scene around him and then placed his forehead against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath. He leaned back in his seat, pulling his forehead and hands away from the steering wheel and staring at the roof of the car instead before turning the radio to a talk radio that he enjoyed.
"Good morning Seattle. It's currently seven fifteen A.M., a warm seventy-six degrees outside, high today of ninety-three and a low of sixty-seven. Forecast is partly cloudy, small chance of rain today as we get ready to kick off the new week. You're listening to Q108.5 with Jim Porter, your daily go to for all things business and sports talk related. The lines will be opening up momentarily, but in the meantime let me tell you about-"
Jim's voice was easy on the ears, which was one of the main reasons that John preferred this station over others. They never played music, and the only commercials they aired were what they promoted during talks as he had just begun to do now. Jim had been running this station for as long as John could remember, and he'd made a routine of calling in every morning to toss in his two cents regardless of what the topic was actually about.
John pulled down the driver's side visor and ran his comb through his hair one final time. Just as every other morning, when his hair was slicked back and combed in a certain way a single strand of gray hair became visible right in the middle of his head. And just as every other morning, he pulled at it a few times with pained winces before giving up and slamming the visor shut. The man put on his seat belt and began to back out of his drive just as Jim finished up the promotion.
"For our first story of the day, nine were found dead this morning in a local motel. Among those victims was Gary Polutzki, owner of Polutzki Pharmaceuticals. Initial reports found a case of unlabeled vials which contained remnants of a clear, blue liquid. Upon further inspection, these vials were engraved with the PP logo - proving that they did indeed come from the lab and were possibly a new, experimental drug. I'd like to get a few opinions on what could possibly have been in these vials before we move on to the possible ramifications that the death of this man will bring in the coming days and weeks. I'll be opening up the lines now."
The color had drained from John's face upon hearing today's first bit of news. Gary Polutzki had died from some unknown chemical that he had apparently brought himself. Gary Polutzki... they'd been friends ever since grade school, only ever really growing apart once Gary decided to attend college. Hell, the man had been at John and Margaret's Christmas party and even attended their wedding a few years back as the best man. He was surprised that Gary hadn't said anything. Whether it was intentional suicide, a defect in whatever this new drug was or even an overdose - John was grief stricken that he'd been unable to speak to his friend about what was going on in his own life. Surely had he asked, then Gary would have offered him a sample as well and he could have at least tried to talk his friend out of taking something experimental like that.
As traffic slowed down and the conversation on the radio with the first caller drug on with notions of a conspiracy theory, John pulled his phone from his pocket. Pulling up his texts, he realized that it had been nearly a month since he'd had any contact with his friend. He started to feel shitty and fought back tears, shaking his head and biting on his lip until it nearly broke the skin. He clicked on the conversation with his wife and sent her a short text, letting her know what had happened and that he'd decided he would visit the hospital after work to see if they could tell him anything about what had happened.
"Jim, did you even read the reports about the man's death? Honestly, I'd expected better of you. From what I've seen, the bodies were very much alive when the police and paramedics arrived. Gary and the other victims were all shaking violently and according to a few eyewitnesses and several pictures of the bodies from before they were carried away, the bodies of the 'deceased' were covered in blisters and the room reeked of decay. Now, if this doesn't shout out some new government experiment then I don't know what does. I don't know what those other eight had to do with it all, and doing quick background checks on them reveal that they're not from the ghettos, they're not military related, not related to Gary's company or even Gary in any way. I have no idea how these people ended up there nor why they agreed to take part in this experiment, but I swear to God there's more to this. We're not getting all the facts as usual, but with the side effects that have been reported I'm going to make a very, very educated guess at what we're actually dealing with." The man on the line took a long pause and licked his lips several times, the sounds of a chair creaking and a knocking coming from the door in the background echoed as he whispered into the phone, "Zombies."
"Well that's an interesting viewpoint you've got there Donald, but I'm afraid we're living in the real world. Zombies, do not exist. And while I'm not going to say you're wrong that something doesn't quite sit right about this whole ordeal, I'm afraid I've got to move on to the next caller. I appreciate you getting in touch with us though and look forward to hearing from you again."
"WSPD! Put your hands in the air and back away from the phone Donald!"
"What's this all about then? Have I done -"
The sound of gunfire echoed across the still open phone line. The muffled screams and grunts of the caller came through as he fell on to his desk where the phone he'd been on was located.
"Is it finished?"
A muffled voice echoed over from a walkie talkie. A click followed it along with a few seconds of silence broken only by the sounds of papers being shuffled across a table and a few more gunshots which caused the connection to drop dead. The station was silent for nearly two minutes and John stared wide-eyed at the radio in his car, unsure of what actually just happened.
"Uh... ehm. " Jim let out an uneasy cough, "I think with that we'll take a break. I'll see you back in ten minutes."
The radio went silent again. No music, no commercials, no weather loops, simply an eerie and unsettling silence. Traffic began to pick up as John pulled in to the garage of his main office building. He parked his car in the same spot as he had for the past five years and waited. This was usually around the time that he'd end up calling in to the station himself, but with the way this morning was going... he waited nonetheless. Five minutes passed, then ten, fifteen, twenty, eventually thirty minutes of silence was approaching and John turned his car off. The man rubbed his chin, trying to take in everything that had transpired this morning. It was supposed to be just as routine as every other day, and yet with one simple event it seemed that everything had spiraled completely out of the norm. Just what had Gary been up to? Why did the police burst in to that caller's home after he mentioned the government and zombies? John became so lost in thought that he had hardly even noticed the knocking at his car window until he started to get out and slammed the driver's door into the man's shin.
"Son of a fuckin' ****! The fuck'ya doin'? Jesus fuckin' Christ, look where they fuck y'er goin' before y' just go and fling shit open."
"Oh shit, I'm sorry man. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?"
The man who John had hit with the door was curled up in a ball on the ground, holding on to his leg as he grit his teeth and struggled to hold back the slew or profanities he so desperately desired to let out onto the businessman.
"I been tryin' to get y'er attention fer the past several minutes. I'm Detective Marx of the Washington State Police Department. I've come to bring y' in fer questioning regarding the death of Gary Polutzki."
John's brow furrowed as he looked at the man curled up on the ground. "You said you were with the WSPD?"
The detective struggled to pull himself up, using the very door that he'd been hit with as a crutch. He was only in street clothes at the moment, but had a radio attached at his waist. "Tha's right. WSPD. Here to bring you in for questioning. Will that be alright with y'?"
John ran his fingers down his jawline as the thought crossed his mind to go along with and help the man. He was supposedly with the police after all. But just as he started to move towards the detective, the radio at his waist beeped and a gravelly voice echoed out from it.
"We're finishing the cleanup of agent D, how are things on your end? Have you managed to-"
The detective fumbled for and quickly pressed down the mute button on his radio as John's eyes widened.
"No... agent D's name wouldn't be Donald would it?"
"That's classified. Now please, come with me. I'd rather not be made to use force."
John cocked his head slightly and then quickly with all of his might pulled the car door out from under the so-called detective's arm. The man fell to the ground, his crutch taken from him. John opened the door just wide enough to enter the vehicle and turned it on. He quickly threw it in to reverse and sped out from the garage. As he pulled out into the open street he noticed that the man who'd come to take him away was hanging on to the door's handle and was attempting to climb to the back of the car as his body bounced against the ground. The skin was scraped and torn away from his legs and stomach as the traffic moved at a speed of about twenty miles per hour. The man winced in pain and pulled his gun out as he finally made it to the back of the car and got a better grip.
John saw the gun aimed at him from his rear-view mirror and began to swerve violently, hoping to throw the man off from his vehicle. Three shots were fired before the detective finally lost his grip and flew off of the overpass which John had entered, making his way back home to protect his family from whatever was getting ready to happen. The first of the bullets fired broke the rear windshield and lodged into the passenger seat, the second shot through the front windshield and blew one of the tires for a semi that was was approaching. The third bullet grazed John's shoulder and blew another of the semi's tires, causing the truck to lose control and turn towards them. John swerved in to the overpass wall, the impact threw the man off of the trunk of the car and on to the ground below while the semi nicked the tail end of the car and pushed it the rest of the way over causing it to fall down and crash on top of the detective.
The airbag shot out into John's face, knocking the man unconscious for several minutes. When he finally came to, an ambulance and several WSPD units had arrived. John had been pulled from the wreckage and was being put onto a stretcher. Traffic had been diverted, and the emergency vehicles had formed a semi-circle around the accident to block out any prying eyes. One of the WSPD officers pulled vial of blue liquid from one of his pockets and poured it in to the detective's mouth.
The detective's upper body seemed to be in near perfect shape, having only one arm twisted around into a broken angle. However, most of his lower body was entirely crushed. As the blue liquid began to course through his veins his body convulsed, violently shaking for several seconds as his skin boiled. The crushed parts of his body began to come back together, like a used balloon being re-inflated.
"No... no, no! No! No! No!" John called out as they began to pour another vial of liquid down the man's throat after strapping him down to a stretcher as well.
The detective and the business man were hauled off to the rear of one of the ambulances. The detective was covered with a white sheet and the two were placed side-by-side in the vehicle, all the while the man's body continued to violently shake. The stretcher he had been strapped to rattled as his arms and legs shot out further than the tightly clasped straps should have allowed. After several minutes however the shaking ceased, and the body remained mostly still. The detective's jaw opened and closed slowly, his teeth clattering against each other as his head slowly turned towards John. The sheet was supposed to be quite thick - almost like a blanket - but the businessman could see everything through it. The detective's eyes which had been a light hazel were now a glowing blue color, piercing through the sheet which covered it. The man's hand rose, seemingly free from the bindings which held it down and removed the blanket from its body.
The man's entire body was covered in blisters and boils, filled with a glowing blue liquid. His gums had receded and his teeth shown bare, he clattered them together a few more times as John sat completely still. The color had drained from the businessman's face and his eyes were wide, he'd even forgot to breathe - fearing that any, even the most slightest of movements might set off whatever it was that this thing was. The detective's nose rose in to the air and he took two deep inhales before turning towards the drivers of the EMT. In a single second, the creature that had used to be detective Marx leapt up into the front of the vehicle and began to tear away at the neck of the vehicle's driver with his bare teeth. The driver screamed and began to swerve, causing his attacker to fall into the floor of the vehicle where he began to tear away at the leg of the passenger. A blue liquid quickly rushed through the two men's wounds, causing them to shake, blister and boil just as the detective had when he'd been given the blue vials to drink.
The two men in the front seat began to kick at and beat down on the man tearing away at their bodies as their breathing grew labored. The blue liquid had run through their bodies in mere seconds and was beginning to take over, their eyes turned a similar glowing blue as their attacks on the man grew lazier and slower. The driver's body fell limp as the transformation's tremors took effect, causing the vehicle to speed up even further. The wheel had been let go, their path set by the formation of the road ahead. The vehicle rammed in to a support beam for another overpass, sending the man in the passenger seat flying out of the front window. His body skittered and rolled across the ground for several hundred feet, whereas the vehicle's driver's neck was snapped backwards with the force of the airbag and the creature in the floorboard was crushed by the impact with the support. As each died the blisters and boils across their skin exploded, shooting out the blue liquid trapped within in all directions. Inside the vehicle, John's face was covered in a glowing blue liquid which smelled of rotting flesh. His eyes clenched tight, he breathed outwards heavily several times through both mouth and nose hoping to blow away anything that might be liable to get inside of him.
The wreck had its fair share of benefits, but also a few drawbacks. With the accident, the restraints of John's stretcher were loosened however he also suffered even more physical trauma. After managing to free himself, he rolled out of the vehicle's back and stumbled away. His ankle had been rolled from the leap out of the back door, his nose and left arm were broken from the fall from the overpass, his neck was cramped, his jaw was broken and he was covered in an unknown glowing blue liquid all resulting from the wreck with the support beam. Traffic seemed to have stopped for now, but the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. Several men and women had exited their vehicles to inspect the scene of the wreckage and began to rub their hands in and across the blue liquid pooled across the ground outside and also inside of the ambulance. John continued to stumble away in a direction opposite of the approaching sirens and away from the crash. Several minutes had passed and the sirens went quiet, only to be replaced by the sound of multiple rapid-fire gunshots which caused the businessman to fall over.
"No!" He shouted as he turned around to look behind him. There was a considerable amount of distance between them, but even for just a moment the thought still crossed his mind that he should return. Surely they wouldn't just open fire on so many people like... would they? He shook his head and then looked back to his front. He actually had no idea where he was going right now, having lost his phone in the first crash he had no way of telling the direction he was facing or even how far he'd been taken before the incident in the ambulance. He could see a little ways off ahead of him, perhaps he could get a ride with someone there... or at least some directions. The man looked himself over, wondering what sane person would stop for someone covered in a glowing blue goop. He shook his head slightly, he had to keep hope. Again his mind went to his family, he had to reach them before whatever it was that was going on around here did.
As he approached the road below he found several abandoned cars on the side of the road, riddled with bullet holes and covered in a similar blue liquid as he was. He began to search through the vehicles for anything of use, surprisingly or perhaps not so surprisingly finding no bodies within them despite the amounts of blood staining the fabrics and items within. As he was going through the glove compartments of one of the final cars on this road he heard something approaching. He hit his head as he pulled himself out of the vehicle, but quickly felt a burning sensation follow it in his thigh as the vehicle flew past him. He felt around his leg, finding a fresh bullet wound that was gushing forth blood.
"Motherfucker..." he whispered under his breath as the blood that was beginning to soak into his pants fused with the blue liquid. His heart rate skyrocketed as he hopped into the truck he'd been searching through. He twisted the key which had been left in the ignition and without even a hiccup the vehicle roared on. He rummaged quickly through the glove compartment, finding an old worn atlas within it. He unfolded the map across the vehicle's dashboard and looked for a road sign to figure out where he was.
Once he found an exit, John stepped on the gas as hard as he could. He ripped part of his shirt off and tied it around his thigh above where the wound was, hoping that even though the liquid was already inside of him that might slow down its progression. He was only a few minutes away from home at this point, the house he lived in was a couple of miles from the closest hospital so they'd already been heading in the direction he wanted to be going in which was a plus. All along the way there were more and more abandoned vehicles and more splattered blue liquid.
As he pulled in to his own neighborhood he saw even more abandoned vehicles. Houses were coated in the glowing blue liquid and several of the infected were standing around motionlessly. The blisters and boils on their skin constantly popping and refilling as they stood still, their eyes focused on the sky above as if waiting for something. John left the safety of the truck and began to walk towards his house which was at the very end of the road, though the creatures around him paid him no mind. Their eyes were transfixed upon the sky, and though John also looked up he couldn't see what was so engrossing about it.
The businessman had reached the door to his own home, his hand rested on the knob. It seemed to have been untouched by the blue liquid altogether so far which was surprising, perhaps it would have even been unsettling had he thought about it at the time. He pulled on the handle and pushed the door open as he entered.
"Margaret?" He paused for a moment before taking another step in to the house. "Marley? Hello?" The house was dead silent; no response, no echo, nothing.
John took a few more steps in to the house and saw the blue screen of the television in the living room. It was one of those old ones with the big backs on it, they didn't have cable so whenever a game or recording wasn't on it would simply rest on the blue screen... yet, this was something else. Every few seconds the blue would flicker and change to broken up segments of different videos portraying his and Gary's families. The images ranged from their childhood together to clips from the Christmas party only moths ago. John started to press his hand against the screen when he heard the floor creak upstairs.
"Hello? Margaret? Marley?" The man shouted as he rushed over to the stairs. He looked up to the landing which sat at the halfway point and saw that there were scrapes on the wall there. Cautious, John took a few slow steps upwards following the scrapes with his eyes as he came up to the halfway platform. "Margaret? Marley?" The scrapes along the wall continued up the second half of the stairway and led in to his and Margaret's bedroom. He followed the scrapes until he reached the closed door to his own room, the jam was covered in dried blood in two or three places along with the slender fingerprints of an adult woman.
"M-Margaret?" John slowly pushed the door open. As it creaked, the trail of blood that went from the doorway, across the floor and finally on to his became more and more visible. There on the once white bedsheets lay his wife; her chest barred, the gown she'd been in ripped to shreds and her stomach torn open as their daughter clawed away at and devoured her innards. John fell to the ground, fluorescent blue tears streaming down his face as he untied the cloth around his thigh. "Marley." The man's lower lip quivers as her name leaves them.
The young girl's head snaps over to her father's direction. Her eyes a brilliant blue and her childish teeth barred with chunks of flesh stuck between their many gaps. The girls lets out a scream as the father's eyes close, and in an instant she was upon him. His eyes began to glow a brilliant blue as his stomach was torn open. His skin festered, bubbled up and became filled with that same blue liquid. With his final human thought, his tears stopped and his frown swapped for a smile.
At long last, he would be able to spend the time with his family that he had always desired to.
1. Just a typical zombie story
Spoiler:
John walked over to the sink and began to wash his bowl out. The water splashed up on his suit as his daughter slammed in to his back, struggling to wrap her arms around his waist as she hugged him.
"Do you have to go daddy?"
John sighed and turned off the water, grabbing a paper towel and wiping the milky mixture from his suit and tie as he turned around. His daughter hung around his waist, her feet resting on top of his as he moved over to the trash can and threw the towel away.
"Margaret," John shouted up the stairs. "Margaret, come and get Marley! I have to go to work dammit! I don't have time for this right now!"
The girl hanging from the businessman's waist giggled as he grew more flustered. Marley loved her father and hated to see him leave, and even though he'd curse and grow angry at her she'd continue on with this routine every morning. As little time and energy as it took to pry the two apart, the child cherished the moments together with her father.
John - short for Johnathan, a name he'd not gone by since he was a child - was a very wealthy businessman and owner of several shops in the downtown area. His work kept him until from eight in the A.M. to midnight and sometimes even later. His primary work as a Manager for a high-end restaurant kept only lasted until two P.M., however the rest of his day and night was almost always devoted to his plethora of other business investments. Several bars, smaller eateries and mall kiosks were registered under his name and each required at least a small portion of his time on a daily basis to ensure all was stocked and running as planned. The man had a family who he loved and who loved him, but never the time to show them just how much they meant to each other.
Margaret came down the stairs of their two-story home, throwing the ties of her nightgown across her waist as she hurried over to their daughter. She placed a light peck on her husband's cheek before reaching down to pry their daughter from his leg. The child let out a loud wail as she pulled on the baggy pants leg of the man's suit, and continued to cry even after she'd lost her group and he'd headed out the door. The mother put the child in her seat at the kitchen table and started to pull out some of the frozen breakfast burritos which she knew to be the only thing able to calm the young girl this time of morning.
John sat inside his car, parked in the driveway for several minutes just as he did every morning. He took in the scene around him and then placed his forehead against the steering wheel and closed his eyes. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath. He leaned back in his seat, pulling his forehead and hands away from the steering wheel and staring at the roof of the car instead before turning the radio to a talk radio that he enjoyed.
"Good morning Seattle. It's currently seven fifteen A.M., a warm seventy-six degrees outside, high today of ninety-three and a low of sixty-seven. Forecast is partly cloudy, small chance of rain today as we get ready to kick off the new week. You're listening to Q108.5 with Jim Porter, your daily go to for all things business and sports talk related. The lines will be opening up momentarily, but in the meantime let me tell you about-"
Jim's voice was easy on the ears, which was one of the main reasons that John preferred this station over others. They never played music, and the only commercials they aired were what they promoted during talks as he had just begun to do now. Jim had been running this station for as long as John could remember, and he'd made a routine of calling in every morning to toss in his two cents regardless of what the topic was actually about.
John pulled down the driver's side visor and ran his comb through his hair one final time. Just as every other morning, when his hair was slicked back and combed in a certain way a single strand of gray hair became visible right in the middle of his head. And just as every other morning, he pulled at it a few times with pained winces before giving up and slamming the visor shut. The man put on his seat belt and began to back out of his drive just as Jim finished up the promotion.
"For our first story of the day, nine were found dead this morning in a local motel. Among those victims was Gary Polutzki, owner of Polutzki Pharmaceuticals. Initial reports found a case of unlabeled vials which contained remnants of a clear, blue liquid. Upon further inspection, these vials were engraved with the PP logo - proving that they did indeed come from the lab and were possibly a new, experimental drug. I'd like to get a few opinions on what could possibly have been in these vials before we move on to the possible ramifications that the death of this man will bring in the coming days and weeks. I'll be opening up the lines now."
The color had drained from John's face upon hearing today's first bit of news. Gary Polutzki had died from some unknown chemical that he had apparently brought himself. Gary Polutzki... they'd been friends ever since grade school, only ever really growing apart once Gary decided to attend college. Hell, the man had been at John and Margaret's Christmas party and even attended their wedding a few years back as the best man. He was surprised that Gary hadn't said anything. Whether it was intentional suicide, a defect in whatever this new drug was or even an overdose - John was grief stricken that he'd been unable to speak to his friend about what was going on in his own life. Surely had he asked, then Gary would have offered him a sample as well and he could have at least tried to talk his friend out of taking something experimental like that.
As traffic slowed down and the conversation on the radio with the first caller drug on with notions of a conspiracy theory, John pulled his phone from his pocket. Pulling up his texts, he realized that it had been nearly a month since he'd had any contact with his friend. He started to feel shitty and fought back tears, shaking his head and biting on his lip until it nearly broke the skin. He clicked on the conversation with his wife and sent her a short text, letting her know what had happened and that he'd decided he would visit the hospital after work to see if they could tell him anything about what had happened.
"Jim, did you even read the reports about the man's death? Honestly, I'd expected better of you. From what I've seen, the bodies were very much alive when the police and paramedics arrived. Gary and the other victims were all shaking violently and according to a few eyewitnesses and several pictures of the bodies from before they were carried away, the bodies of the 'deceased' were covered in blisters and the room reeked of decay. Now, if this doesn't shout out some new government experiment then I don't know what does. I don't know what those other eight had to do with it all, and doing quick background checks on them reveal that they're not from the ghettos, they're not military related, not related to Gary's company or even Gary in any way. I have no idea how these people ended up there nor why they agreed to take part in this experiment, but I swear to God there's more to this. We're not getting all the facts as usual, but with the side effects that have been reported I'm going to make a very, very educated guess at what we're actually dealing with." The man on the line took a long pause and licked his lips several times, the sounds of a chair creaking and a knocking coming from the door in the background echoed as he whispered into the phone, "Zombies."
"Well that's an interesting viewpoint you've got there Donald, but I'm afraid we're living in the real world. Zombies, do not exist. And while I'm not going to say you're wrong that something doesn't quite sit right about this whole ordeal, I'm afraid I've got to move on to the next caller. I appreciate you getting in touch with us though and look forward to hearing from you again."
"WSPD! Put your hands in the air and back away from the phone Donald!"
"What's this all about then? Have I done -"
The sound of gunfire echoed across the still open phone line. The muffled screams and grunts of the caller came through as he fell on to his desk where the phone he'd been on was located.
"Is it finished?"
A muffled voice echoed over from a walkie talkie. A click followed it along with a few seconds of silence broken only by the sounds of papers being shuffled across a table and a few more gunshots which caused the connection to drop dead. The station was silent for nearly two minutes and John stared wide-eyed at the radio in his car, unsure of what actually just happened.
"Uh... ehm. " Jim let out an uneasy cough, "I think with that we'll take a break. I'll see you back in ten minutes."
The radio went silent again. No music, no commercials, no weather loops, simply an eerie and unsettling silence. Traffic began to pick up as John pulled in to the garage of his main office building. He parked his car in the same spot as he had for the past five years and waited. This was usually around the time that he'd end up calling in to the station himself, but with the way this morning was going... he waited nonetheless. Five minutes passed, then ten, fifteen, twenty, eventually thirty minutes of silence was approaching and John turned his car off. The man rubbed his chin, trying to take in everything that had transpired this morning. It was supposed to be just as routine as every other day, and yet with one simple event it seemed that everything had spiraled completely out of the norm. Just what had Gary been up to? Why did the police burst in to that caller's home after he mentioned the government and zombies? John became so lost in thought that he had hardly even noticed the knocking at his car window until he started to get out and slammed the driver's door into the man's shin.
"Son of a fuckin' ****! The fuck'ya doin'? Jesus fuckin' Christ, look where they fuck y'er goin' before y' just go and fling shit open."
"Oh shit, I'm sorry man. Are you alright? Is there anything I can do for you?"
The man who John had hit with the door was curled up in a ball on the ground, holding on to his leg as he grit his teeth and struggled to hold back the slew or profanities he so desperately desired to let out onto the businessman.
"I been tryin' to get y'er attention fer the past several minutes. I'm Detective Marx of the Washington State Police Department. I've come to bring y' in fer questioning regarding the death of Gary Polutzki."
John's brow furrowed as he looked at the man curled up on the ground. "You said you were with the WSPD?"
The detective struggled to pull himself up, using the very door that he'd been hit with as a crutch. He was only in street clothes at the moment, but had a radio attached at his waist. "Tha's right. WSPD. Here to bring you in for questioning. Will that be alright with y'?"
John ran his fingers down his jawline as the thought crossed his mind to go along with and help the man. He was supposedly with the police after all. But just as he started to move towards the detective, the radio at his waist beeped and a gravelly voice echoed out from it.
"We're finishing the cleanup of agent D, how are things on your end? Have you managed to-"
The detective fumbled for and quickly pressed down the mute button on his radio as John's eyes widened.
"No... agent D's name wouldn't be Donald would it?"
"That's classified. Now please, come with me. I'd rather not be made to use force."
John cocked his head slightly and then quickly with all of his might pulled the car door out from under the so-called detective's arm. The man fell to the ground, his crutch taken from him. John opened the door just wide enough to enter the vehicle and turned it on. He quickly threw it in to reverse and sped out from the garage. As he pulled out into the open street he noticed that the man who'd come to take him away was hanging on to the door's handle and was attempting to climb to the back of the car as his body bounced against the ground. The skin was scraped and torn away from his legs and stomach as the traffic moved at a speed of about twenty miles per hour. The man winced in pain and pulled his gun out as he finally made it to the back of the car and got a better grip.
John saw the gun aimed at him from his rear-view mirror and began to swerve violently, hoping to throw the man off from his vehicle. Three shots were fired before the detective finally lost his grip and flew off of the overpass which John had entered, making his way back home to protect his family from whatever was getting ready to happen. The first of the bullets fired broke the rear windshield and lodged into the passenger seat, the second shot through the front windshield and blew one of the tires for a semi that was was approaching. The third bullet grazed John's shoulder and blew another of the semi's tires, causing the truck to lose control and turn towards them. John swerved in to the overpass wall, the impact threw the man off of the trunk of the car and on to the ground below while the semi nicked the tail end of the car and pushed it the rest of the way over causing it to fall down and crash on top of the detective.
The airbag shot out into John's face, knocking the man unconscious for several minutes. When he finally came to, an ambulance and several WSPD units had arrived. John had been pulled from the wreckage and was being put onto a stretcher. Traffic had been diverted, and the emergency vehicles had formed a semi-circle around the accident to block out any prying eyes. One of the WSPD officers pulled vial of blue liquid from one of his pockets and poured it in to the detective's mouth.
The detective's upper body seemed to be in near perfect shape, having only one arm twisted around into a broken angle. However, most of his lower body was entirely crushed. As the blue liquid began to course through his veins his body convulsed, violently shaking for several seconds as his skin boiled. The crushed parts of his body began to come back together, like a used balloon being re-inflated.
"No... no, no! No! No! No!" John called out as they began to pour another vial of liquid down the man's throat after strapping him down to a stretcher as well.
The detective and the business man were hauled off to the rear of one of the ambulances. The detective was covered with a white sheet and the two were placed side-by-side in the vehicle, all the while the man's body continued to violently shake. The stretcher he had been strapped to rattled as his arms and legs shot out further than the tightly clasped straps should have allowed. After several minutes however the shaking ceased, and the body remained mostly still. The detective's jaw opened and closed slowly, his teeth clattering against each other as his head slowly turned towards John. The sheet was supposed to be quite thick - almost like a blanket - but the businessman could see everything through it. The detective's eyes which had been a light hazel were now a glowing blue color, piercing through the sheet which covered it. The man's hand rose, seemingly free from the bindings which held it down and removed the blanket from its body.
The man's entire body was covered in blisters and boils, filled with a glowing blue liquid. His gums had receded and his teeth shown bare, he clattered them together a few more times as John sat completely still. The color had drained from the businessman's face and his eyes were wide, he'd even forgot to breathe - fearing that any, even the most slightest of movements might set off whatever it was that this thing was. The detective's nose rose in to the air and he took two deep inhales before turning towards the drivers of the EMT. In a single second, the creature that had used to be detective Marx leapt up into the front of the vehicle and began to tear away at the neck of the vehicle's driver with his bare teeth. The driver screamed and began to swerve, causing his attacker to fall into the floor of the vehicle where he began to tear away at the leg of the passenger. A blue liquid quickly rushed through the two men's wounds, causing them to shake, blister and boil just as the detective had when he'd been given the blue vials to drink.
The two men in the front seat began to kick at and beat down on the man tearing away at their bodies as their breathing grew labored. The blue liquid had run through their bodies in mere seconds and was beginning to take over, their eyes turned a similar glowing blue as their attacks on the man grew lazier and slower. The driver's body fell limp as the transformation's tremors took effect, causing the vehicle to speed up even further. The wheel had been let go, their path set by the formation of the road ahead. The vehicle rammed in to a support beam for another overpass, sending the man in the passenger seat flying out of the front window. His body skittered and rolled across the ground for several hundred feet, whereas the vehicle's driver's neck was snapped backwards with the force of the airbag and the creature in the floorboard was crushed by the impact with the support. As each died the blisters and boils across their skin exploded, shooting out the blue liquid trapped within in all directions. Inside the vehicle, John's face was covered in a glowing blue liquid which smelled of rotting flesh. His eyes clenched tight, he breathed outwards heavily several times through both mouth and nose hoping to blow away anything that might be liable to get inside of him.
The wreck had its fair share of benefits, but also a few drawbacks. With the accident, the restraints of John's stretcher were loosened however he also suffered even more physical trauma. After managing to free himself, he rolled out of the vehicle's back and stumbled away. His ankle had been rolled from the leap out of the back door, his nose and left arm were broken from the fall from the overpass, his neck was cramped, his jaw was broken and he was covered in an unknown glowing blue liquid all resulting from the wreck with the support beam. Traffic seemed to have stopped for now, but the sound of sirens could be heard in the distance. Several men and women had exited their vehicles to inspect the scene of the wreckage and began to rub their hands in and across the blue liquid pooled across the ground outside and also inside of the ambulance. John continued to stumble away in a direction opposite of the approaching sirens and away from the crash. Several minutes had passed and the sirens went quiet, only to be replaced by the sound of multiple rapid-fire gunshots which caused the businessman to fall over.
"No!" He shouted as he turned around to look behind him. There was a considerable amount of distance between them, but even for just a moment the thought still crossed his mind that he should return. Surely they wouldn't just open fire on so many people like... would they? He shook his head and then looked back to his front. He actually had no idea where he was going right now, having lost his phone in the first crash he had no way of telling the direction he was facing or even how far he'd been taken before the incident in the ambulance. He could see a little ways off ahead of him, perhaps he could get a ride with someone there... or at least some directions. The man looked himself over, wondering what sane person would stop for someone covered in a glowing blue goop. He shook his head slightly, he had to keep hope. Again his mind went to his family, he had to reach them before whatever it was that was going on around here did.
As he approached the road below he found several abandoned cars on the side of the road, riddled with bullet holes and covered in a similar blue liquid as he was. He began to search through the vehicles for anything of use, surprisingly or perhaps not so surprisingly finding no bodies within them despite the amounts of blood staining the fabrics and items within. As he was going through the glove compartments of one of the final cars on this road he heard something approaching. He hit his head as he pulled himself out of the vehicle, but quickly felt a burning sensation follow it in his thigh as the vehicle flew past him. He felt around his leg, finding a fresh bullet wound that was gushing forth blood.
"Motherfucker..." he whispered under his breath as the blood that was beginning to soak into his pants fused with the blue liquid. His heart rate skyrocketed as he hopped into the truck he'd been searching through. He twisted the key which had been left in the ignition and without even a hiccup the vehicle roared on. He rummaged quickly through the glove compartment, finding an old worn atlas within it. He unfolded the map across the vehicle's dashboard and looked for a road sign to figure out where he was.
Once he found an exit, John stepped on the gas as hard as he could. He ripped part of his shirt off and tied it around his thigh above where the wound was, hoping that even though the liquid was already inside of him that might slow down its progression. He was only a few minutes away from home at this point, the house he lived in was a couple of miles from the closest hospital so they'd already been heading in the direction he wanted to be going in which was a plus. All along the way there were more and more abandoned vehicles and more splattered blue liquid.
As he pulled in to his own neighborhood he saw even more abandoned vehicles. Houses were coated in the glowing blue liquid and several of the infected were standing around motionlessly. The blisters and boils on their skin constantly popping and refilling as they stood still, their eyes focused on the sky above as if waiting for something. John left the safety of the truck and began to walk towards his house which was at the very end of the road, though the creatures around him paid him no mind. Their eyes were transfixed upon the sky, and though John also looked up he couldn't see what was so engrossing about it.
The businessman had reached the door to his own home, his hand rested on the knob. It seemed to have been untouched by the blue liquid altogether so far which was surprising, perhaps it would have even been unsettling had he thought about it at the time. He pulled on the handle and pushed the door open as he entered.
"Margaret?" He paused for a moment before taking another step in to the house. "Marley? Hello?" The house was dead silent; no response, no echo, nothing.
John took a few more steps in to the house and saw the blue screen of the television in the living room. It was one of those old ones with the big backs on it, they didn't have cable so whenever a game or recording wasn't on it would simply rest on the blue screen... yet, this was something else. Every few seconds the blue would flicker and change to broken up segments of different videos portraying his and Gary's families. The images ranged from their childhood together to clips from the Christmas party only moths ago. John started to press his hand against the screen when he heard the floor creak upstairs.
"Hello? Margaret? Marley?" The man shouted as he rushed over to the stairs. He looked up to the landing which sat at the halfway point and saw that there were scrapes on the wall there. Cautious, John took a few slow steps upwards following the scrapes with his eyes as he came up to the halfway platform. "Margaret? Marley?" The scrapes along the wall continued up the second half of the stairway and led in to his and Margaret's bedroom. He followed the scrapes until he reached the closed door to his own room, the jam was covered in dried blood in two or three places along with the slender fingerprints of an adult woman.
"M-Margaret?" John slowly pushed the door open. As it creaked, the trail of blood that went from the doorway, across the floor and finally on to his became more and more visible. There on the once white bedsheets lay his wife; her chest barred, the gown she'd been in ripped to shreds and her stomach torn open as their daughter clawed away at and devoured her innards. John fell to the ground, fluorescent blue tears streaming down his face as he untied the cloth around his thigh. "Marley." The man's lower lip quivers as her name leaves them.
The young girl's head snaps over to her father's direction. Her eyes a brilliant blue and her childish teeth barred with chunks of flesh stuck between their many gaps. The girls lets out a scream as the father's eyes close, and in an instant she was upon him. His eyes began to glow a brilliant blue as his stomach was torn open. His skin festered, bubbled up and became filled with that same blue liquid. With his final human thought, his tears stopped and his frown swapped for a smile.
At long last, he would be able to spend the time with his family that he had always desired to.
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