Zombiegrad. A horror novel

“Sure, in the armory. It’s a police station.”

“Where’s the armory? D’you know that?”

“Sure,” she said. “You can say I’ve almost grown up here. The armory is on the second floor. But it’s locked.”

“Too bad,” Ramses said. “But let’s check it, anyway. You got any other weapons?”

“No.” She lowered the gun. “This is all I got.”

He nodded. “Still, it is something.”

“Look,” Ksenia said. “I don’t want to hurt you, but if you pull a stunt on me I will.”

“Lady, I got it already,” Ramses said. “I got other business to do except being dead.” He looked down at his shoes with no shoelaces. “Okay. One thing at a time. I need a faster pair of footwear.”

Ksenia clicked the torch on and shone it on the floor.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They went along the corridor. At the end of it, she stopped. “Wait. There’s a man on the staircase. I shot at him as he assaulted me.”

She handed him the gun. “You go first. Please. I’m scared.”

Ramses took the gun. “We’re gonna be fine. Is the safety on?”

“Yes.”

“How many bullets are left?”

“It’s an MP-443 Grach pistol,” Ksenia said. “18 rounds in a magazine. I’ve spent four.”

“Aw, that’s coo,” he said, shifting the weapon into ready-to-fire position. “Okay, follow me. Light me through the staircase.”

They went down the steps. Ramses’s tall figure cast a long shadow, which looked like the silhouette of the alien hunter in the movie “Predator”. Walking in the shoes, which lacked shoelaces, was not comfortable, and he chose his step carefully so he did not stumble or fall.

They walked down two flights of stairs and saw the body. It was the bald police officer with the walrus mustache. He was lying face down on the stair landing, a pool of blood accumulating around his head like cherry liquor.

Ksenia gasped and pressed her hand to her mouth.

Ramses touched the dead man’s shoulder with the gun muzzle. “You knew him?”

“He was my dad’s friend,” Ksenia whispered.

“Sorry to hear that.” Ramses knelt down and searched the man’s pockets. He found a cell phone and a set of keys. He put both items in his pocket. Then he kicked off his shoes and started taking off the dead man’s leather boots to put them on. Ksenia looked away.

They went on. The third floor was under renovation. The dirty corridor was full of stacks of old heating radiators and bags of cement.

They passed the second floor. Their steps echoed in the stairwell. The security door cage, leading to the corridor on the first floor, was locked with a padlock.

The torch flickered in Ksenia’s hand. She shook it and it began shining normally. As she shone on the door again, they saw a female staring at them, her slimy manicured hands gripping the bars. She was wearing the dark blue police uniform. The red bubbly liquid was drooling from her mouth on her black tie and white shirt.

“Be careful,” Ksenia said.

Ramses approached the woman and stood within a safe distance. Her face was pale, and her eyes were bloodshot. The woman snarled and hissed and tried to reach him through the bars.

“Can you talk to her?” Ramses said to Ksenia. “I mean I don’t speak any Russian.”

“You might as well speak English with her,” Ksenia said. “Or Greek. Or Albanian. Or whatever. It’s all the same. They don’t respond. They’re like lifeless dolls.”

Ramses stepped forward to take a closer look. “What’s up with her?” He backed away as the woman attempted to snatch his face with her hands. “What’s your guess?”

“Maybe yesterday it wasn’t really a meteorite. I think it was some kind of nerve gas.”

“You think it was terrorists?”

“Kind of. And the chemical stuff made people insane and affected their speech.”

Ramses turned to Ksenia. “Why ain’t we gone crazy?”

Ksenia shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe we will. Sooner or later.”

Ramses shuddered at the thought.

“You got the keys to this door?” he said.

Ksenia patted her jeans pocket. “Right here.”

“Good.” He nodded. “Hold on to them.”

The woman opened her mouth and exhaled a loud groan which shot a surge of fear through his spine. They heard shuffling noises. A fat man in a police uniform shambled from around the corner and stood behind the woman. He snarled at Ramses and Ksenia, his white parchment lips parting in a ghastly grimace. His neck was torn open, and the blood mixed with gray matter oozed from the wound. He shoved the female aside and protruded his hands through the bars.

The monster versions of the police officers growled at them and started shaking the bars. What troubled Ramses was that if they had kept smashing the door, it wouldn’t have taken them long to rip it off the hinges. They pushed the door, spasms of fury shaking their bodies, but it did not budge. The door held.

Ramses stared at them blankly. He didn’t know those people, but he realized they had been persons just a couple of hours ago, persons who had families, kids, friends. His feelings were mixed. He was scared of them, and he wanted to kill them all, just to put them out of their misery. He looked at Ksenia. She was blinking, forcing her tears back.

“C’mon,” Ramses said. “We gotta get out.”

The noise was getting unbearable. One more policeman walked up, wearing a winter coat and a hat. The closed door stopped him. He grabbed a bar with his left hand and looked at them savagely with his red eyes. His right arm was missing.

Ksenia pointed at him and shouted, “That’s him, the bastard!”

Ramses looked at Ksenia. “Why are you shouting? Don’t we have to be quiet?”

“He left my father to die out there. Kill him!”

“You must be kidding, yeah?” Ramses frowned. “I’m being convicted of murder and going to spend five years in some shitty prison in Siberia. You want me to become a cop killer now?”

“Can’t you see they’re not humans anymore?” Ksenia said. She was on the verge of crying and her eyes were full of rage. “At least they’re not acting like human beings to me. They’re like rabid animals. They attack what they see and use their teeth and nails.”