Zombies! Episode 1: Shawn of the Dead Page 4

  "I'm sorry, Eileen. I'm so sorry."

  "You're sorry? Tell that to your four daughters! You tell them you're sorry."

  "Please…"

  "How many times did I tell you to give up that job? You could've retired years ago but you had to go on…"

  "Eileen, don't do this!" he cried.

  And then he cried.

  And then she cried.

  They spent long minutes crying together before Eileen finally pulled it together and pulled him together. "What else is there to say, then?"

  He breathed. "Can we just talk like we always did? Can you tell me about the bills or the kids or maybe we can just reminisce a while?"

  She started off tentatively, just mentioning the high electric bill and how it was definitely Lucia's fault because she was always on the computer. He agreed and promised to have a talk with her but then caught himself up. They tried like that for a while and then settled into the talking about the past. Talking about the past was easy. They'd had such good times together. It put him at ease to sort out the memories of his life with Eileen. It made the hurt in his leg and his heart go away for just awhile. So they talked and they laughed and they cried. And every time there was a lull in the conversation, one of them was quick to pick up the slack and make sure no one remembered why he'd really called.

  They did that until the battery in Anthony's phone started to give off warnings. After that they said their goodbyes together and hung up so that they could each weep in private.

  ***

  HERON lingered outside the door to the ward a moment, wondering whether to search out the captain or just wait for Stemmy to finish. He thought about his partner's situation and how he would act under the same circumstances. What would he say to Alicia if he was in Stemmy's place? He couldn't even fathom.

  With these thoughts in his head, he chose to look for the captain. Standing alone outside the ward would just force him to dwell on it and that wouldn't do. Stemmy was going to need him.

  At first he walked back the way he had come. Most of the laboratories were empty now. He passed a janitor and asked him if he'd seen Captain Naughton but the janitor either didn't know who the captain was or didn't speak English. As he walked, he marveled at the complexity of the installation. It was almost entirely self-contained and he was sure that it was outfitted with a top of the line lock-down mechanism. He wondered what it would be like to be trapped down there for an indefinite period of time, trying in vain to unriddle a deadly plague. He supposed it would be better than being trapped outside.

  At long last, he found someone who could lead him to the captain. The man was a lab technician, working late on something. He was young, but looked old. He wore a grizzled beard and sported a significant paunch. He didn’t know the captain but was sure that any police officer, especially a high ranking police officer, would be in the company of Dr. Luco.

  The technician showed Heron to a series of examination rooms and then left him after indicating one toward the end of the corridor. As the detective made his way down the hall, he could hear Naughton's distinct voice.

  The examining room was small but it had been set up as a makeshift lab as well. Naughton was sitting in a low chair, his legs spread out in front of him. He held a phone to his ear and was talking into it a little too loudly. Standing, looking into a microscope, trying her best to ignore the captain, was a fortyish woman in a white coat. She had her long brown hair tied back into a pony tail and was scribbling into a pad with her left hand. Heron noticed that she was writing in the pad without even looking at it and yet doing so flawlessly.

  Naughton waved as Heron walked in and then flashed him the one-minute finger. Heron stood in the doorway waiting. After a minute, Naughton was still talking but the woman finally looked up and took notice of him.

  "Are you detective Heron?"

  He nodded.

  She looked once at Naughton then beckoned him outside.

  "Denise Luco," she introduced, extending a hand.

  He nodded, accepting the hand but saying nothing.

  "I need to run a blood test on you," she said. "We've tested everyone who was in that apartment and everyone who's come into contact with Detective Stemmy. So far no one's shown any signs of the infection, not even the surgical team, but we're not taking any chances."

  Heron was still in mild shock, still absorbing the existence of zombies and the fact that one had bitten his good friend and partner. He didn't immediately reply to Dr. Luco. And she was not a particularly patient woman.

  "Detective? Did you hear me?"

  He sort of snapped out of it, found himself irritated by her demeanor. "What's going to happen to Stemmy?" he asked.

  At this she balked. "Well…he was infected by the bite. We've tried using a large dosage of IV antibiotics but the infection seems resistant. At this point, it's really up to his body's ability to fight off the infection."

  She was saying that there was nothing they could do.

  "Will he end up like that thing that bit him?"

  Slowly, she nodded.

  "How? How does that happen?"

  Dr. Luco began to wring her hands. Heron could tell that he was making her uncomfortable, which was something he didn't normally do. His strength had always been putting people at ease so that they would communicate. It was how he had managed to win Alicia's affections. But now his emotions were so erratic and their levels so high that there wasn't anything he could say or do to put people at ease.

  "We don't know all that much about it yet. It's aggressive, breeding at several times the rate of natural bacteria…"

  "Wait, wait. You mean someone made this?"

  She nodded. "It has all the telltale signs of having been created in a lab."

  Great! "Bio terrorism?"

  She shrugged. "That's your job, detective."

  "Can you help them, the zombies? Can you turn them back?"

  She shook her head again, this time sadly. "The few tests we've been able to run on Zoe Koplowitz indicate that she's dead. Even if we were able to purge the infection from her body, it would just leave her…inanimate."

  At that moment, Naughton stuck his head out the door and apologized for being on the phone. Luco and Heron moved into the room so the three of them could speak. Heron sat on the examining table while Luco prepared a syringe and a tube for his blood test.

  "It's just a precaution, Anthony," Naughton told him.

  "Dr. Luco explained it to me," he answered.

  Naughton nodded solemnly. "Did she explain the nature of the illness to you?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm very sorry, Anthony. I wish there was more that we could do."

  "You should test everyone in the apartment building. You should test everyone at the gym."

  This time Naughton shook his head. "We can't mandate the testing without a state of emergency and we don't have near enough of a problem to warrant that."

  "Did you check with other police forces around the country?"

  "For zombies?" the captain declared incredulously. "If the mayor caught wind of it, or God forbid the governor…"

  Heron interrupted him smoothly. "We need to do the right thing here, Lance. This plague may not be airborne but it still has a very effective way of travelling from person to person. And the Koplowitz family didn't get the disease from a bite. They got it from each other and one of them got it from somewhere else. That means it's out there and this blood test (accentuated by the fact that Dr. Luco was just then sticking the needle into his arm) is more than just a precaution."

  Lance Naughton leaned back and thought for a moment. There was silence as Dr. Luco finished the test and took the vial of blood back to her microscope.

  Naughton wasn't a stupid man but he'd never had the sense to be a really good detective. Like Heron he had people skills. Solid if not spectacular police work had earned him the respect of his peers. Savvy had gotten him the
rest. Not that he didn't deserve it. Naughton didn't lose any sleep at night wondering if he was truly cut out for the job. He could very effectively lead and had won the respect of most of those underneath him as well as the press that hounded him.

  "I'll put in a call to the CDC," he said finally. "At the very least, it will make them aware of a new disease."

  "Is there anything else?" Heron asked.

  Naughton shook his head. "You've been through enough. Why don't you take a load off while we wait for the test results?"

  This time Heron shook his head. "I'm going to go and be with Stemmy."

  At this, Luco looked up. There was an expression on her face that was both definable and yet indescribable at the same time. At that moment, Heron saw things through her eyes. He saw Zoe Koplowitz and Stemmy and he saw himself. He did not like what he saw.

  "It could be a long wait, Anthony," Naughton said to him. "Are you sure you want to put yourself through that?"

  "He shouldn't be alone."

  Whether by design or instinct, the captain didn't even give consideration to the simmering Luco when he gave Heron his permission. There was really no other option. They were partners, Heron and Stemmy. They had been partners for years. They were friends.

  ***

  HERON was given a folding chair and strict instructions to stay out of the room. Of course, he thought. I wouldn't want to get the zombie plague.

  As he approached Stemmy's room he couldn't help but notice that the little girl was still curled up on the floor by the bed. She looked up at him as he passed, made that curious sniffing motion again. Heron shivered a bit, then moved past.

  Stemmy was back in bed, seemingly asleep. Heron spied his phone on the nightstand.

  "I'm with you, buddy," he whispered. "I'm with you."

  He unfolded the chair and set it in front of the window. Sitting down, he put his head in his hands and began his long wait.

  He didn't know how long it was before he looked up. He must have dozed off, Stemmy's presence bringing him slowly to wakefulness. The detective was standing up against the window, his hospital gown hanging oddly off of his frame, his IV stand tipped over on the floor behind him. The tube still trailed from his arm. Stemmy's head was cocked at an odd angle and his eyes seemed vacant.

  Heron went cold.

  "…anthony…"

  The voice was so low that he wasn't sure he'd heard it.

  "Stemmy?"

  The eyes seemed to come back into focus beneath a film of sweat. His neck muscles bunched and he straightened. When Heron looked at him he saw pain. Agony.

  "Stemmy…"

  "…my family…"

  Now he could see the lips moving, ever so slightly. Stemmy was still alive. There was still air in his lungs.

  "I'll look after them," Heron promised.

  Stemmy nodded, the tiny motion an exercise of will. "…more…"

  "What? What more?"

  Stemmy's eyes locked onto Heron as he summed up the very last of his reserves. "I don't want to be like that. You'll see to it."

  "Like that? Like what, Stemmy?"

  He cocked his head to the left. "Like her."

  Heron looked over toward the little girl's room but she was no longer inside. She was right next to him, her eyes and nose focused on his living flesh. Her mouth opened and her rotting teeth gleamed in the half light. Heron let out a cry and toppled back and out of the chair. Somewhere an alarm was blaring.

  He came to with a start, finding himself on the floor with the turned over chair next to him. There was no alarm blaring in his ear but there was something, a long steady whine. His heart was beating a mad rhythm in his chest and he had to look at the girl's room just to be sure. If she'd been in her regular position, he'd never have been able to see her from where he was. But she'd moved. She was now pressed up against the glass, looking directly at him. Her nose wasn't twitching anymore, as if she no longer needed to smell him to know that he was food.

  Getting to his feet, he looked for the source of the whine. Stemmy still lay in his bed, his IV stand next to him and the monitor showing his flat line on the other side. There was the source of the whine. Johan Stemmy had passed.

  Heron had moments to make his decision. He didn't have any idea how long it would take for Stemmy to pass from death into undeath but he knew that his monitor would alert Naughton and Luco. With the decision making power that had made him an effective police officer, he hit the button that broke the seals on the door and pushed his way into the room. Stemmy looked peaceful in death. There was still some sweat glistening in his hair and on his brow. Heron drew his gun, feeling silly aiming at a corpse. But he didn't hesitate. Whether subconsciously or in reality, he had made Stemmy a promise. He would never become one of those things.

  The gunshot was loud in the closed space. Stemmy's head jerked to the side and his body twitched once as the bullet entered his brain, protecting him from the fate that had so terrified him in his last moments. The echo had not left the chamber when it was joined by an exasperated gasp from Denise Luco.

  Naughton came in behind her, much more calm, as if he'd known all along that this would happen.

  "Damn you! I needed to observe a subject turning."

  "He's not a subject," Heron said with far less venom than he felt.

  There was a moment of silence, but not for Stemmy. Everyone just breathed, Heron and Luco each trying to stare down the other. Under the circumstances, Luco never stood a chance.

  "You'd better put that thing in a stronger cage," Heron said, jerking a thumb toward the other room. "And put a guard on it."

  Naughton didn't say anything at first, seeing just how unnerved Heron was. "You'll go talk to Eileen?" he finally asked.

  Calming down at the very relevant question, Heron nodded. Neither Naughton nor Luco even mentioned the results of his blood test. He supposed it really had been just a formality.

  "Go home after that."

  Heron picked up his phone from the nightstand, spared a glance for Luco, and left the room.

  ***

  IT had taken Stemmy a long time to die and Heron, much to his own shame, had slept through most of it. The memory of those last moments still pulled at him. He could see Stemmy, clear as day, his body pressed up against the glass as he dictated his final wishes. And then there was the girl…the monster. She was right there and then she wasn't. Heron knew it was a dream, the whole of it. Stemmy couldn't have picked up his IV and gotten back into bed so quickly. Not in his condition. And the thing. It would never have just gone back into its cage. So it was a dream. All of it. But it felt like a memory. And he had not made those promises to Stemmy in vain. Whether they had been asked or he had conceived them, Heron would honor the first and had honored the second because he knew it was what Stemmy would have wanted.

  It was two o'clock in the morning.

  It had taken Stemmy a long time to die.

  When Heron arrived at his partner's brownstone, he hesitated outside the door. There was a soft glow coming through the glass in the front door. Of course, Eileen would be unable to sleep. He didn't know how long they had spoken for or what about but the battery on his cell phone was dead. He imagined her sitting in the kitchen, just the counter light on, sobbing at the loss of the man who had been more her partner than he could ever have been Heron's.

  Stepping up to the door, he knocked lightly.

  She came to the door in a rush, hoping, hoping. But when she saw him there, saw the disheveled and frightened look of him, she knew it was over. Tears burst from her eyes and she fell into his arms. Only now able to cry himself, Heron held his friend's wife. They shared their pain on the stoop until they could collect themselves. Then they laughed a little bit. They laughed together in Stemmy's memory. Finally, when they were drained of all emotions, they went inside and sat for a while.

  ***

  THE dawn light was cresting
when Anthony Heron finally reached his own home in Queens. He and his wife lived in a small two bedroom house with their daughter. Mellie was just five years old. She had creamy brown skin and thick tight hair with bouncing locks. She was his pride and joy. Alicia was a stern woman who expected more from him emotionally than she herself was willing to give. But somehow it worked between them. Heron was never one to hold back and never one to demand more from a woman than she could give.

  When he got home, Alicia was awake and had been all night. She was sitting at the table and there were tears in her eyes. It was only at that moment that he realized he had never called her. He had been gone all night and never even called to tell her why. She looked up at him with dark eyes. There was relief, followed by anger, followed by concern. She knew right away that some part of him was missing.

  "What is it?" she asked.

  "Stemmy," he told her. "Stemmy died."

  "Oh, my God!" Her hands came to her face in a classic demonstration of shock and anguish. She came and embraced him and he held her tight more for himself than for her. He never really understood what she was feeling. Stemmy and Heron were partners. If something miniscule had gone differently, it could have been Heron who had died and not Stemmy. Alicia had loved Stemmy but she loved her husband more and all she could think about was just how close she had come to not having him anymore.

  Heron pushed away from her and went to the kitchen. He filled a glass with water from the tap and sat at the table. There was some mail scattered about but he ignored it. What caught his eye was the phone message scribbled on a piece of yellow paper.

  "What's this?" he asked.

  Alicia, still badly shaken, said, "I'd forgotten. The doctor called. They have the results of your biopsy and they want you to come back in to discuss it."

  Heron didn't even bother to react. The biopsy. It had seemed so important, dominated his thoughts up until the moment they had encountered the Koplowitz family. He thought of Stemmy and what he had gone through. He thought of Zoe Koplowitz, Dr. Luco's undead subject. Maybe cancer wasn't so bad. After all, there were worse fates, worse fates even than death.

  ***

  ZOMBIES! It’s not the end of the world.

  Shawn of the Dead is the first of a series of episodes that focuses on the more personal aspects of people as they face their regular lives against the backdrop of a zombie infection.