Cadaver 1: A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller, page 3
“What the hell, man? What’s going on?”
Jakob doesn’t answer. Aksel figures he’s not even listening anymore. It sounds like he’s dropped the phone. Sounds of scuffling. Then, another scream. Aksel can’t tell which one of them it is, but there’s pain in it this time.
“Get off! Get him off of me!”
The shrill voice sounds like Viggo, but it’s hard to tell, as the words are contorted by panic.
“Heeelp! Help me, Jakob!”
“Fuck!”
More scuffling. Aksel listens, pressing the phone to his ear, holding his breath. Throughout it all, he picks up more grunts and growls from whatever is attacking the boys.
Jakob’s voice comes again: “No! Wait—” Then, a couple of seconds later: “Oh, shit.”
The sound of screaming tires as the truck brakes hard. A bang. Then, for half a heartbeat, there’s no sounds. It’s followed by a violent crash, and the connection is cut abruptly.
Aksel lowers the phone, staring at the floor. He senses someone standing there and turns his head to see Frida.
She’s brushing her teeth, white foam on her lips. “What is it?” she asks, taking out the toothbrush. “Something wrong?”
“Yeah, I think so,” Aksel hears himself say.
Then he calls 911.
6
Everything plays out in slow motion.
The world turns upside down. The dead guy lifts off, hangs suspended in midair for a split second, then hits the ceiling like a ragdoll in a tumble dryer. Intense pain in Jakob’s shoulder as the seat belt holds him in place tightly. The car lands on its roof, the windscreen exploding. The dead guy gets flung out. Something hard connects with the back of Jakob’s skull, causing him to almost black out. The world spins around its axis a few more times, then comes to a rest.
The truck’s engine dies, and everything is suddenly very quiet.
Jakob blinks, hearing only his own pulse.
He finds himself hanging upside down, the blood rushing to his head, which is already throbbing from whatever hit him. His hands are still holding the wheel, his legs dangling.
I’m okay, he thinks, feeling dizzy. I’m not hurt. The seat belt saved my life.
There’s a scraping noise somewhere. It’s coming and going.
Jakob tries to open the door, but it won’t budge. Instead, he fumbles to unbuckle. Slumping to the ceiling, he’s overwhelmed with nausea and vertigo. His body feels like it weighs ten times as much as usual.
I’m passing out. I have to fight it.
His thoughts are weirdly distant. Like someone else is thinking them. He understands he’s been in an accident, but he only remembers vaguely what caused it. He wasn’t alone. Someone was with him. It was—
Viggo.
The thought of his friend makes him able to get to his hands and knees. Viggo fell out of the car. He must be badly hurt.
Gotta help him.
The scraping noise is getting louder, coming closer. It sounds like fabric being dragged across asphalt.
Jakob turns to where the windscreen used to be. He sees the road. Sees the broken glass littered everywhere. And he also sees the corpse coming this way. The sight of it jolts his memory, and it all comes back.
The dead guy still isn’t dead. But apparently, he’s no longer able to walk. Instead, he drags himself forward. Both eyes are open now, both black as night. His skull has taken a nasty blow, crushing the left cheekbone. It causes the guy’s mouth to hang open and gives him a harrowing look of anguish. It reminds Jakob of that ugly, famous painting of a guy on a bridge, screaming.
Jakob isn’t able to get out of the car through the windscreen—the corpse is too close and will reach him within seconds. He turns instead and crawls through the seats to the back.
Then he grabs the handle and tries to open the back door. It’s jammed. He sits down on his ass and kicks it hard. It doesn’t open.
“Fuck!”
Turning back around, he sees the dead guy coming through the windscreen. His already busted hands and forearms are now full of broken glass. His face is even more gruesome up close, his demeanor fiercely determined. His jaw begins moving, as though checking to make sure he can still bite.
Jakob’s mind is struggling to keep up with events. He does realize, though, that he’s trapped. And that he’ll have to fight the dead guy coming at him.
Then he sees it, lying right in front of him. The rifle case.
Must have been what hit my head, Jakob thinks absentmindedly.
He opens it and pulls out the rifle. Going for the bullets, he manages to get one out, but his hands are shaking so badly, he drops it. Picking it up, he crams it into the chamber, and as he’s about to cock it, the dead guy reaches him.
Instead of firing, Jakob has no choice but to use the rifle as a blunt weapon, so he swings at the corpse’s head. The guy must see it coming, but he does nothing to thwart it off. The swing connects with the bald head. Because of the awkward way Jakob is sitting, he can’t really get much force behind it. He was hoping to bust open the guy’s skull, but he only tumbles over, immediately trying to get back up.
Jakob drops the rifle and opts for escape. Using the few seconds it takes the guy to regain his bearings, Jakob manages to pass him and heads for the front of the car.
Just as he thinks he’s about to make it, the dead guy latches on to his boot.
“No! Fuck off,” Jakob snarls, jerking his leg.
But the corpse has a surprisingly strong grip, and he pulls Jakob back. Before he can do anything, he feels a sharp pinch in his calf as the dead guy bites down on it. Jakob screams out and flips over. He coils up his other leg and kicks hard at the guy’s head. He misses the face, but hits him instead below the chin, pinning him up against the roof—which is actually the floor.
The dead guy produces a croaking sound and claws away at Jakob’s leg. Luckily, he’s wearing both his heavy-duty cargo pants, but also his thermal leggings below, so the corpse can’t get to his skin.
Jakob reaches for the rifle, but it’s too far away. Instead, he remembers the knife.
Still holding the writhing corpse—although his foot is starting to slip—Jakob pries the skinning knife out from his pocket. He almost manages to pull it from the holster, when the corpse gives a jerk and Jakob’s leg buckles. The dead guy comes tumbling down over him. They begin a fierce wrestling match. The guy growls into his ear, his teeth snapping close to Jakob’s face, his rotten breath filling Jakob’s nose.
Jakob roars out and tries to push the guy over, tries to get him off, but the corpse is fighting like a wild animal now.
This is it. He’s going to eat me alive.
The thought sends one last shot of adrenaline through Jakob’s system, and he manages to get his left arm up and catches the guy’s chin, allowing him to push the corpse’s head up and back. The guy’s skin is incredibly cold, almost still frozen, and it feels all taut and leathery against Jakob’s palm.
With the corpse lifted a few inches, Jakob manages to pry free his other arm, finding that he’s still holding the knife, and it’s now out of the holster.
The guy bites down hard, and Jakob feels a sharp pain in his fingers.
“Ow!” he roars, plunging the knife into the guy’s head from the side.
The blade slips through the crushed cheekbone with surprising ease, sinking all the way in. Apparently, it cuts something vital on its way, because the corpse jolts violently, then stops moving.
Jakob pulls the knife back out and is about to go for a second swing, when the guy keels over, landing motionless on the floor.
Jakob sits up, feeling his head spin, pushing himself away from the corpse. But it makes no attempt to get back up. It’s really dead.
Jakob turns around and climbs out the windscreen. Standing up, his legs can barely hold him. His breath forms white clouds in front of his face.
He’s completely alone in the middle of nowhere.
No, not completely alone. Fifty yards or so down road, someone is lying by the roadside. Someone with blonde, curly hair.
Jakob looks down and sees his phone lying there. The screen is cracked. He picks it up and tries to activate it, but it’s busted.
There’s no calling for help.
Jakob drops the phone and instead goes to Viggo.
He has landed on his side. His eyes are closed, and he looks like he’s just sleeping. But Jakob can tell right away his friend is dead.
“Oh, no,” he croaks, kneeling down. “Come on, man …” He places two fingers on the soft skin on Viggo’s neck. It’s already turning cold. There’s no pulse.
Jakob fights back a strong urge to cry. He gets back up to his feet, almost losing his balance. He can’t take it in. Viggo is his oldest friend. They’ve always been there for each other. He can’t just be gone all of a sudden.
“Help me, Jakob!”
Viggo’s voice in his mind, screaming for him as the dead guy attacks. The dead guy that Jakob insisted they bring back with them.
This is all my fault. I fucked up big time.
A sob escapes him. Then, just as he’s about to break down, he becomes aware of a throbbing pain from his left hand. He looks down to see his little finger bleeding. There’s a cut right above the nail. One of the corpse’s teeth punctured the skin.
A cold rush of fear runs through his gut.
Fuck. That can’t be good.
Certain words flash through his memory. Words he and Viggo spoke just minutes ago. Parasite. Contagious. Zombie.
Jakob stares at his hand.
It’s in my blood. It’ll kill me and turn me into … whatever that guy was. Then comes another thought: Maybe it’s not too late.
Jakob was never the clever guy. That was more Viggo. But Jakob is good at making snap decisions. He’s able to act without thinking too much.
Which is exactly what he does now.
Spitting on the knife’s blade, he wipes it clean on his sleeve. Then he places it on the inside of the second knuckle of his little finger.
Gotta make sure to do it in the joint, or it won’t work.
He takes one, long breath in. Then he bites down hard and cuts off his finger.
7
Someone grunts, and Jakob looks around.
No one’s there. He’s alone on the desolate highway. Some time must have passed, because while it’s still early, it’s a little more daylight around him. A thick, white fog has rolled in, hiding most of the barren valley, the leafless trees, the rocks glistening with frost.
“Viggo? Is that you?”
His voice sounds strange in his own ears. Like he has a cold or something.
“Sure,” Viggo’s voice comes from behind.
Jakob whirls around. He sees him standing there, his old friend, smiling at him.
“Who else did you expect?”
Something’s wrong. Viggo’s clothes are torn. His skin ripped open in several places. He’s missing a shoe, and one of his legs is obviously broken, the foot facing the wrong way. From the way he’s slanting, his shoulder looks like it’s dislocated.
None of this seems to bother Viggo, however. He takes a few steps closer, dragging the messed-up leg.
As he comes towards him, Jakob squints to make out Viggo’s face. It’s taken a beating too. A nasty scrape runs along his jaw, a flap of skin hangs from his temple. One corner of his mouth is drooping, as though the muscles are damaged. The other side of the mouth is smiling, and the smile gives Jakob the chills.
“Hey, man. You all right?”
“Nah,” Viggo says, shrugging as he keeps coming closer. “I’m not all right. None of us are. Tell the truth, we’re all fucked.”
“Who?” Jakob asks. He wants to back up, wants to create distance between them. It feels like his legs are moving, but for some reason, he stays in place. Instead, he tries to keep Viggo distracted by talking. “Who are you talking about, buddy?”
Viggo throws out his good arm, gesturing around. “All of us. Look!”
Jakob gazes out into the fog, and sees a lot of faces. Deer, foxes, bears, cats and dogs. All of them with black eyes. Standing shoulder to shoulder, staring back at him.
It must have spread, Jakob thinks, starting to remember. Whatever the dead guy in the cabin had. I’m lucky I didn’t catch it too.
“Oh, but you did,” Viggo says.
Jakob snaps his head back around to look at his friend, and a scream lodges in his throat.
Viggo is right in front of him now. His eyes are like two black marbles. So dark they don’t even reflect light.
Jakob is filled with dread at the sight of his friend, who’s clearly dead. But he also feels like crying. “I’m sorry, man,” he croaks. “I’m really sorry for what happened to you. It’s my fault.”
“Yeah, it is,” Viggo concedes. “But at least we’re both going the same way.”
“I’m not infected.”
“No?”
“No, I cut it off.”
“Yeah, but you were too late, buddy. Take a closer look.”
It’s only now Jakob becomes aware of the pain he’s been feeling this whole time. A warm, throbbing pressure in his finger. He holds up his hand. He thought he only cut off his little finger, but all of them are missing. Only bloody stumps are left. Yet the skin on his hand is all green. He realizes to his horror that he’s naked, and his entire body is decomposing. The skin discolored and peeling off like old paint, revealing the rotting flesh underneath.
“See?” Viggo grins. “I told you. We’re all fucked. No one’s escaping this.”
Jakob shakes his head, tries desperately to run. But moving his body only causes it to fall apart more. Lumps of flesh drop to the asphalt, bones audibly breaking.
Viggo leans in closer, his face filling Jakob’s vision, and he can smell the putrid stench coming from his mouth as he whispers: “It’s the end of the world, Jakob. And it’s only just begun.”
“No!” Jakob cries out and—
8
—jerks so violently that he almost topples off the bed.
“Whoa, whoa,” a familiar voice says. Hands grab his shoulders, and Jakob recoils.
Then he sees Aksel’s face, and the rest of the world morphs into reality. He’s not outside. He’s in a mostly white room, and it’s high noon outside, judging from the pale sunlight coming through the window.
“It’s okay, man,” Aksel tells him. “You’re safe.”
His brother smiles at him, something he rarely does. The smile is meant to be reassuring, but it’s also worried.
“Where am …? Where’s …? I don’t …” Jakob swallows as the words catch in his throat. His mouth is terribly dry.
“You’re in the hospital,” Aksel tells him, reaching for a cup of water with a straw, holding it close to Jakob’s mouth.
Jakob takes a sip, relishing in the cool liquid going down his throat. He tries to take the cup from Aksel, but sees a thick, white bandage covering his little finger.
“Use the other hand if you wanna hold it yourself,” Aksel instructs him.
“Fuck,” Jakob mutters, turning over his hand. “I really did that …”
“Yeah, you did,” Aksel says, putting the cup back on the table. “You drove off the road and somehow ended up losing only half a finger. You’re one lucky asshole, you know that?”
He remembers the blade going through his finger. The pain was unbelievable, the most intense thing he’s ever felt. It must have been what caused him to pass out. He doesn’t remember that part. His finger doesn’t hurt now. In fact, he can’t really feel it at all. They probably numbed him up good before stitching him together.
“You’re also lucky it was freezing tits out there, or you would have bled to death,” Aksel goes on. “You were like a popsicle when they found you.”
“Who? Did someone come by?”
“I called an ambulance. I heard you crash. Remember, we were talking on the phone?”
“Oh, right.”
“So listen, maybe next time you find a guy who’s died from some nasty disease, maybe don’t touch him, okay?”
Jakob frowns. “I didn’t. I was wearing gloves.”
“Yeah, and that might have saved your life. They had to isolate you until the tests came back. You’re clean as a whistle.”
Jakob feels a rush of relief. Then he remembers. “What about … Viggo?”
He’s afraid of the answer. And he sees it immediately on Aksel’s face.
“Maybe not worry about him right now,” he says in a low voice.
Jakob squeezes his lips together. He doesn’t want to cry, especially not in front of Aksel. His brother reads the situation and gets up from the chair. He strolls casually to the window and looks out, pretending to take in the view.
Jakob sobs quietly, wiping away the tears as they roll down his cheeks.
“So,” Aksel says after a couple of minutes have passed, clearing his throat. “I guess you’ll have to jerk off with your left hand for a while.”
Jakob can’t help but snort with laughter.
“Oh, and I called Dad.”
Jakob immediately tenses up. “Was he … mad?”
“About the truck?” Aksel turns around and raises his eyebrows. “You bet ya. He did soften up when I told him you got roughed up. I think I managed to talk you out of a beating.”
“Thanks. When’ll he be back?”
“He said next week. There was some delays with permits or whatever, so they haven’t even started yet.”
Working as a contractor, their dad travels all over Scandinavia and will often leave the boys alone for weeks on end, even from when they were very young. Jakob never met his mother. Aksel remembers her vaguely, but never talks about her. She died when Jakob was two.
“What about … Viggo’s parents?” Jakob asks. “Has anyone told them?”
“Of course,” Aksel says. “But I told you not to worry about it, okay? You’ve got your own problems.”
Jakob nods and looks at his hand. “Yeah, I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Aksel sends him a serious look. “Tom came by. He wants to talk to you. He said he’ll be back at three to see if you were awake. He wants to know what the hell happened out there.”
