Chapter 2 - Part 2
“This is really depressing. Every channel has news reports.” Susan said, finally giving up and setting down the remote. “And we're eating home fried potato chips.”
“If you wanted snacks, you should've brought your own.”
“I know, I know. Stupid health conscious—”
“Shh.” Indiana grabbed up the remote and turned up the volume.
“There have been new developments in the recent biological attack. People who were previously considered dead have come back to life in an animated, catatonic state. If approached these people become extremely violent, attacking unprovoked. At this time doctors theorize that the virus slows heart and respiratory function, mimicking death. In this state, the brain shuts down, causing damage to parts of the brain. At this time, researchers are still looking into what this virus is and why it causes this to happen. We will continue to bring you up to the minute coverage as we know more.”
“This keeps getting freakier and freakier.”
“Yeah.” Indie agreed, she didn't like this one bit. A nagging voice in the back of her head told her to get the hell out of Dodge. She got to her feet and headed for the office.
Susan followed and leaned against the door casing. “What are you doing?”
“Calling the school to let dad know what's going on.” Picking up the receiver she pushed the call button. “Survivalista calling the Pigeon Survival School, over.”
The radio crackled, “Yogi here, go Survivalista.”
Susan snickered from the door, “That's so seventies.”
Indie ignored her. “Yogi there's a new development I can't explain it over the radio, just tell dad I'm heading back. Survivalista out.”
“All right, Survivalista, be careful. Yogi out.”
Indie hung up the radio and turned it off.
“You're going back to the school, why?”
Indie looked at her friend. “Call it a feeling. I think something bad's coming, worse than what we've already seen.”
“Indie, you can't know that. The government is taking care of the problem and making sure things don't get worst.”
Walking to the closet Indie pulled out a second hand held radio. “Here it's already set on channel eighteen, if I'm wrong you can call me and gloat.”
Susan snatched the radio. “Fine, I will.” Turning on her heel she stalked to the front door, flinging it open. She stopped dead in her tracks. “Indie!”
The hint of panic in Susie's voice had Indiana running to the door. She froze as she looked across the street. Ms. Weltner, the old lady who lived directly opposite, stood outside her house. Dried blood leaked down her face from a cut on her forehead. Indie had never seen the woman without perfect make-up and hair. Her white hair was half up in rollers, the other half stuck out at odd angles from her head. Cold cream was smeared randomly all over her face. The slack, vacant stare on her face made Indie's stomach quiver. The old woman shuffled aimlessly down the front walk, barefoot in her nightdress and bathrobe. Her front door hung open. The prissy old lady usually locked it behind her, even when she walked to her mailbox not ten feet away.
“Do we help her?” Susan whispered.
“No. Remember the report.”
“But she's bleeding.”
Indie took a good look, shivering. “It's congealed. We'll go inside and call nine-one-one, they'll be able to help her.” She grabbed Susan’s arm, pulled her back into the house and shut the door, locking it. Susan stood peering out the window as Indie picked up the phone from the hall table. She dialed, only to get a busy signal. “Susie, it's busy.”
“It's nine-one-one, how can it be busy?”
Indie shook her head, dread creeping into her belly. “Come on, the Jeep is in the garage. I'll take you home.”
Indie raised her eyebrows.
Susan closed her eyes. “I want to come with you, maybe you're right.”
“What about AJ?”
“I’ll call him.”
Indie nodded, Susan's family wasn't all that close. It didn't surprise her one bit that her friend would worry about herself first and family second. “Fine, but you need better clothes.” Heading up to her room, Indie rifled through her dresser, tossing several items on the bed.
“Seriously? These are Army surplus,” Susan whined from behind her.
“Susie, we're going to a camp in the middle of the wilderness, not a day spa. If you think this will be a walk in the park then let me take you home.”
“Fine.” The bathroom door clicked shut.
Grabbing an old army knapsack from the bottom of her closet, Indie shoved some extra clothes inside and picked up the radio Susan had left on the bed. Going back downstairs, she peeked out the front window. Ms. Weltner just stood at the end of her walkway, swaying back and forth as if she was going to topple over at any minute. Indie tried nine-one-one again only to still hear the annoying beep. This couldn't be a good sign.
Walking back to the living room, Indie glanced at the TV. The reporter looked haggard, as if she was close to her limit. “We repeat, if you see anyone with these symptoms, do not approach. Call the number below or your local authorities. Again, those symptoms are vacant stare, glazed or milky eyes, and a shuffling gait. People with these symptoms are prone to attack ferociously and without provocation. They will hit, kick, scratch, and bite. If they scratch or bite you, go to a hospital immediately as the virus can be contracted this way.”
Indiana picked up her cell phone sticking it in her pocket, then lifted the remote and turned off the TV. “Susan, hurry up!”