The Reaper Virus by Nathan Barnes

Then
she asked when I was leaving.
    All I could say was that I might need to stay
for a while until the streets calmed down. Hearing her gathering a
protest I stopped her with a reminder that I was in a police
station, and that the place should be one of the safest in the
city. Internally, I didn’t believe a word I was saying. The reality
was that in the coming hours our block would probably become
flooded with panicked and possibly infected people.
    I told her that I loved her and the kids more
than anything. She started crying in a much more obvious manner
then. After reminding her that they were all well equipped in the
house I said something I never thought I’d say. “If anyone tries to
get into the house – you shoot first.” She was quiet. “I have one
of those walkie-talkies I bought with me. If the phones go down,
I’ll use it as soon as I’m within range.”
    I waited a minute and she eventually let out
a sobbing “ok”. I told her I loved her again and reassured her
everything would be fine, and that before we knew it we’d be at my
parents’ farm waiting this whole thing out.
    Minutes after hanging up I realized I didn’t
have the walkie on me; it was in my car…
     
    * * *
     
    0230 hours:
     
    There’s no paraphrasing this. I hate gut
feelings. It was all falling apart. From the New
York Times website, my fears became a reality:
    “ REAPER VIRUS SPREADS
UNCHECKED THROUGH URBAN CENTERS WORLDWIDE… THE DEAD NOW
WALK!”
     
    People were starting to congregate in front
of the building. If only we could tear down the giant yellow
“CAMPUS POLICE” awning in the front of the building. Other than the
lights acting as a beacon in the desolate block, the awning was a
big invitation for any desperate person around.
    What was more concerning was that the power
had been blinking. Our computers never shut down, but the lights
would for a split second or so. It was eerie to say the very
least.
    We were hearing more shots outside. It looked
like someone was lying in the middle of the street at the end of
the block. You couldn’t see much from the camera in front, because
even when the world wasn’t falling apart its quality was very poor,
but it looked like three people were crouched around the person. I
hoped they were helping the poor soul; although I don’t think that
was the case.
     
    * * *
     
    0318 hours:
     
    I had to get to my car for my survival pack.
Things were getting worse outside by the minute. I had to step out
of the radio room for a moment just to clear my head. Lance was in
the hall when I ran to the bathroom. He gave me the “why the fuck
are you here!?” look. My response was only, “You live on the south
side of the James so do you have a way back across the river?” His
answer was silence. “Lance, I either need you to come with me or I
need to borrow your gun.”
    He shot a puzzled look back at me. Before he
could offer a rebuttal I answered his unspoken questions.
    “I have to get to my car on the second level
where I always park. In my trunk there is a bag of supplies that
could help us get through a few days in here. With everything
that’s going on out there, I’d like to have someone to watch my
back or a way to defend myself. I don’t plan on ending up infected
or as a meal for some of the sick fucks out there.”
    He nodded and said to meet him by the vending
machines in fifteen minutes.
     
    * * *
     
    0433 hours:
     
    I sat back in the radio room, trying to
fathom everything I’d just experienced. My hands were trembling
uncontrollably.
    Just as he promised, Lance was waiting,
fiddling with the Pepsi machine.
    “Ten minutes or less. I promise.”
    “If not, people will notice we’re gone and
they’ll lock us out. The Corporal is talking about locking down the
building until sunrise when they can get more people to come in,”
he told me in a near whisper.
    I took my uniform shirt off, stashing it next
to the drink machine. He did the same but kept his vest