The Reaper Virus by Nathan Barnes Page B

with blood they ran like wet paint, trailed from the
pooled crimson to the window above. We stopped to listen, and heard
only distant gunfire and glass breaking from the street. Just a
handful more stairs and we would be at the opening for the second
level.
    We picked up our pace when the entryway was
within reach. Then Lance stopped in his tracks. I nearly ran into
him, distracted by what sounded like a car colliding with a street
sign. My eyes followed to where his gun was pointing.
    A human form was slumped face down over the
stairs at the next bend. Blood ran down the steps from the figure’s
right arm which was draped down towards where we stood. In the dim
light I could see the black veins trailing over the lifeless arm.
Its face was buried in the concrete, concealed in a flood of red.
This poor bastard had the Reaper virus.
    We stood motionless for a minute or two. No
sound, no movement. The clock was ticking; there simply wasn’t time
to spare. Convinced this person was dead, we continued on.
    Stepping into the cavernous deck we quickened
our pace. During the day every spot would be filled. Now there were
only a scattered few cars, all belonging to police employees. No
one was around; the peppering of parked cars gave us some
confirmation of that. Open walls provided slightly more light than
the stairwell. This made it possible to see the broken windows and
slashed tires of every nearby car.
    I headed to my vehicle, parked straight ahead
of me. Lance moved towards his, which was parked off to the side
where the incline to level three began. As I crept closer I looked
around the corner towards the east side of the deck. Centered in
the drive at the far end, a silhouette stood motionless. I froze
and watched it intently. Its posture reminded me of a scarecrow
with both arms down, slumped and lifeless. After thirty seconds of
eternity I crept across the open drive to my car.
    My steps stopped along with my heart the
moment I heard glass crunch beneath my boot. The sound wasn’t what
killed my spirit though; it was the realization that my driver-side
windows had been smashed and the door left ajar. Looking closer I
saw that the car sat at a tilt, both exposed tires slashed.
    I glanced back to the other side of the deck,
relieved that the figure hadn’t moved. Exercising caution, I tried
to stay quiet as I walked to the side of the car. The inside had
been gutted, stereo gone and glass everywhere. Even the booster
seats in the back seat were yanked out – a sight that enraged me
more than anything. The trunk, what if they got to the trunk?
    I reached through the shattered glass to hit
the “pop trunk” button. The sound of the trunk opening punctuated
the still silence of the deck so well that it might as well have
been a loudspeaker. I immediately ducked behind the open car door
and swung around to see if I drew any attention. No movement from
the scarecrow. The only movement I could see was Lance waving me to
hurry from the stairwell. I threw the trunk open and was nearly
blinded by the trunk’s light. Finally some good news – the trunk
was untouched.
    The backpack was stuffed. Almost a comfort of
home, having it put me at ease. The handle of the Kukri protruded
from the zipper, a sight that also gave me some relief. Fighting
the urge to slam the trunk closed (as I always did), I decided to
leave it open. A final glance at the inside gave me a smile.
Peeking from beneath a blanket at the back of the trunk was the end
of my mini crowbar. I must have forgotten to take it out when I
unloaded the goodies from my Home Depot trip. Feeling relief from
any good news I could get, I attached it to my backpack with the
top loop. Now, there wasn’t anything left of value inside. My poor
car had broken windows and two eviscerated tires. And I only had one spare tire, which wouldn’t do me much
good in getting home with the virus being so rampant. I’d have to
come up with another plan to get home. If Lance didn’t have