Blogger from the 9th Floor of the Tower
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Chapter One Part 1 : “Love is just a word until someone comes along and gives it meaning.” Anonymous
The woman I loved was back from a tour of duty in the Middle East and stationed at NAS Whidbey Island. It had been eleven months since I’d seen Bekka. Eleven shitty months of me wondering whether I would get the call every loved one of a service member dreads. Eleven months of my phone bill being higher than my rent. Eleven months without Bekka. When I saw her again, I felt like a whole person for the first time in a long time. She was my world. I rubbed my eyes, biting back the ever present grief. Fuck I hated past tense.
We were staying in the Moore hotel near the Pikes place market. The day started like any other day Bekka and I’d been together, me up at dawn pounding pavement. I ran every day, no matter what I’d done the night before no matter if I’d slept or not. Twelve hour surgery, up all night on call, it didn’t matter I still ran. Bekka called it my OCD. Maybe she was right but for me it was my Zen. The one moment in time when no matter what had happened the night before I was at peace with the world and myself.
Seattle was just waking up when I crossed 1st Street and ended up dodging cars when I headed into the Pikes place market to get Bekka coffee and donuts for breakfast. Before I returned to the room everything had started.
Bekka was awake when I entered the room, which alone should have been a clue something wasn’t right. See my Bekka wasn’t a morning person I’d learned over the years to greet her with silence and a cup of coffee. I should have known I really should have known that everything was wrong. Her back was to me her face hidden in her hands as she watched the am news. She was shaking like a leaf. I closed the door quietly but still loud enough to startle her she turned and saw me visibly tensing Bekka was on edge, her face white, she was cold sweating a look of raw fear in her face. Bekka was never afraid.
“Achilles?” her voice was filled with terror.
Bekka never used my full name no one other than my mother did. Bekka reached for me I didn’t think I just went to her setting the cups down. She needed me, Bekka never needed me. She pointed at the TV showing me what she didn’t have words to tell me.
The newscast was not the local news but a feed from Los Angeles. The reporter at the scene was young not someone I was familiar with. He looked nervous
“This is Daniel Schroeder for FOX 11 reporting from the site of what appears to be a large chemical spill.”
The camera man pans out with a wide angle shot there were several over turned government tankers, green fluid was spilling out onto the ground. Fire trucks, ambulances and military personal were everywhere everyone was in hazmat suits. The reporter’s voice was unsteady as he continued.
“You can see behind me, military personal are assisting local fire and EMS personal with the evacuation of the injured and the removal of the dead."
The camera slowing moved taking in a panoramic view of the wreckage with the occasional wave of black smoke from the burning hulk of one of the tankers that was over turned. The fluid spilling out of the shattered side was viscous in nature and forming large pools on the cement, bodies were sprawled everywhere. The voice of the reporter was drowned out by sudden rapid weapons fire and the sounds of screaming.
“Tony, what was that? Focus in on it.” The reporter directed but the cameraman was already on it the eye of the camera narrowed in on the bodies lying on the ground. The newsmen’s voice grew shrill
“Tony, what the fuck is that?!” The camera picked up the sight of the dead rising.
Bekka and I watched in horror as burned bloody forms battered by the accident that had turned over the tankers stand and leapt upon retreating survivors, EMS personal and the military. The dead were eating the living, ripping flesh away from the bone of living beings with their teeth.
Bekka began to shake her voice a hoarse whisper “Oh God, Hill, they’re eating people!” she gagged clapping a hand over her mouth and ran to the bathroom. I couldn’t move I couldn’t turn away. It was like watching a car wreck in motion. Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered Bekka vomiting. The cameraman’s nerve shattered at this point and he ran dropping the camera. Running had been a mistake. They, the pack… I called them that because that’s what they were, or how they acted. They were drawn to the noise and movement like a pack of wolves. The pack converged on him taking him down along with the reporter. The camera kept running and recorded the sounds of their agonized final minutes as the pack ripped them apart. I couldn’t stop watching the screen even as it cut away to the frightened horrified face of a female news anchor. Her eyes were huge her pupils pinpoint her skin pale and sweaty, She kept mumbling, her lower lip quivering.
“Um, umm, umm.” The woman behind the desk kept rocking back and forth her fingers found her hair and began to pull it her voice rising to a high pitch saying a name over and over. “Danny.”
A voice called out near her. “Cathy snap out of it! We’re live! God damn it Cathy get it together!” a figure of a tired looking man in his forties, a head set and microphone could be seen gripping his balding head.
He pulled the woman to her feet restraining her as she went wild swinging at him half knocking his head set off. “Sam, Donna, get Cathy back to her dressing room.” He said as he restrained her. The woman went limp when the two stagehands grabbed her taking her off stage whimpering. The man turned to face the camera taking out a handkerchief wiping the sweat off his forehead and face.
“Folks, this is Jim Grady stage manager for FOX 11 in Los Angeles. We have had multiple reports of occurrences like this all over the city. State and local law enforcement are asking that everyone remain indoors until this is over. The National Guard has been called into contain the situation. It’s not safe on the streets right now folks. Lock your doors and stay inside. We’ll keep you updated as the new information becomes available. It’s a dark time. God bless us all.”
Last edited by yarri; Mar 19th, 2013 at 08:59 AM.
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"Burn it to the ground. My only regret would be not being able to burn it a second time." Osiris, on how the world should burn.
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