The Premonition

                                                            Word Count: 2824

THE PREMONITION

By

C. Michael Perry

PRESENT DAY

The last few days had been scorching. The air was so heavy with humidity, you could barely breathe. “More like a sauna,” he thought. One you could not escape from. The slightest movement was all it took to cause sweat to pour unimpeded from every pore. Day or night or dusk or dawn, it made little difference, all exceedingly uncomfortable. But the real thing that had everyone on edge were the Infected. O’Malley knew they were coming. Scouts had spotted them moving this way. Everyone was scared. Only he was calm. At least as calm as one could be while waiting for a horde of Infected to find you. 

He slowly walked the inside perimeter, watching for signs in the trees that surrounded their compound. Thankfully, the tree line was a 100 yards away. Plus, the ten foot high fences would help, but even that would be breached eventually. He was sure he’d seen movement ten minutes ago. He froze in place and watched. He never saw it again, but something had been there. He was sure of it. Eleven years of putting on a badge and gun and climbing into a patrol car taught him to trust his instincts. But after ten minutes of watching the spot - nothing. No more movement. “It must’ve been a squirrel,” he thought.  So he walked on.

Sergeant Sean O’Malley was a cop, or had been. Now he wasn’t sure what he was, other than a human trying to stay alive. He glanced across the compound at his buddy Keagan patrolling the west perimeter. Billie walked the eastside. Both were good officers. He would walk into a bar fight with either one.

Keagan Kumar was of Asian Indian descent. Calming down even the most irrational drunken fool was his special skill. But, if need be, he could mix it up with anyone. 

Billie was relentless. At 5’2” she would give even the devil pause. She refused to give up when hot on the trail of a bad guy. “If I were a bad guy, I would not want her looking for me,” O’Malley used to say. He smiled. Her real name was Sheena. She hated it. “Too girly,” she said, and swore him to secrecy. While still a little girl, she’d confided her displeasure to her grandfather, so he began to call her Billie. She’d been Billie ever since.

 O’Malley loved them both, as he had his other squad members. But the others were gone now. Lost in the city four days ago.   

Four days before an unstoppable sickness spread through the city turning people into uncontrollable beasts who lusted for flesh and blood. Once bitten, or even scratched by an Infected, that person became infected too. But now he, Billie, Keagan, Lieutenant Stone and about 100 others, including injured, had found sanctuary in a heavy equipment warehouse right outside the city.  A fence enclosed three sides of the warehouse, with the fourth bordered by a river.  

Now they huddled together in this isolated warehouse. Praying for help to arrive. But their attempts at contacting the outside were futile. Cell phones had no signal and only static could be heard on police band radios.  

The good news was they had plenty of guns. The bad news was, their ammunition supply was low. Plus, more than half had never fired a gun. Not Good! But the one thing they did have plenty of was gasoline, and bottles. So O’Malley’s idea was to use the heavy equipment to dig a moat around the perimeter and fill it with fuel. And, to make Molotov Cocktails, - lots and lots of Molotov Cocktails. 

FIVE DAYS AGO

Death! It seemed near. It had for the last two or three days. Like a dark boiling cloud, it hung there, just out of reach. Hiding an invisible truth that refused to be exposed before it’s time. He’d had similar feelings. Premonitions, if you will. Warnings! Like the feeling of a snake lying hidden on the far side of a log, just as he was about to step over. He hadn’t seen the snake. He just felt it was there. And it was. Usually he tried to ignore them. But then when the thing happened, he’d think back, and realize, he’d felt it coming. That’s why this most recent premonition was so disturbing. It was dark, and threatening, and filled him with dread. It would not go away. It reminded him of the anticipated beatings when his alcoholic father came home from a binge, but this was worse. It simply would not go away. But it was elusive. It refused to allow him to see its hidden secrets. Neither time nor place, nor nature of the danger could be seen. Only that death and danger lay waiting and watching, and they were close. Ready to spring their lethal trap. Was this unknown danger to occur tonight, tomorrow? Maybe it wouldn’t happen at all. Perhaps, this was all part of his overactive imagination, but he didn’t think so. His experiences with past premonitions told him this one was real, too. Perhaps his past experiences were meant to prepare him for this one. He felt no danger for himself, but rather, for the men and women he supervised.

           Sergeant O’Malley sipped his coffee and took a deep, lung filling breath. He released it slowly, trying in vain to expel the stress along with the air. He needed to clear these premonition cobwebs from his brain. In thirty minutes his shift began. Once again he would put on his uniform, strap on his gun and radio, climb into his god forsaken patrol car, and call in service for his 11 P.M. shift. He was sick of it. Not his fellow officers. He loved them. But Stone;, Stone was the problem. Literally every day he fantasized about telling Stone to take his job and stick it where the sun don’t shine. 

Lieutenant Stone was the shift commander on the midnight shift and O’Malley’s boss.  Stone’s lips were permanently attached to the Chief’s butt. Or for that matter, anyone else’s butt that Stone thought could advance his career. Stone’s nose had developed permanent and most distinctive stain of brown. His focus was always up the chain of command, never down. The officers below him were useful only in how they could make him look good.    

As for O’Malley, nothing was more important than his squad. He would take a bullet for any of them. They were his brothers and sisters. Each worked hard to make life better for the citizens of the city. This was not always easy. Often they were forced to make life and death decisions in seconds. Decisions that lawyers and judges took weeks, and months, and even years to decide.  Too many family fights, too many stabbings, too many drunks, and too many drug overdoses, left many officers with a bad case of burnout.

Every day O’Malley spoke to Stone about his squad’s needs. Trying to get them time off, better equipment, better training, or anything else to make their jobs, and their lives, easier. But Stone didn’t care. For him these things cost money, and saving money meant he looked good to the bean counters above him. And looking good was what Stone was all about. He had little concern for the needs of those below him in the chain of command. For O’Malley, this was an unforgivable sin. More than once he’d begged Stone to simply take one day off from his supposed busy schedule, and call in service and run calls. Not as a ride along with another officer, but to actually handle calls on his own, like a front line officer does every day. Perhaps then he would be more appreciative of the pressures and dangers his officers face. But he never would. “That would be beneath him,” O’Malley thought.

FOUR DAYS AGO

The night had been quiet. Not many calls. A few car stops. With an hour to go on their shifts, Keagan and Billie were in the station processing a drunk driver.  O’Malley was there too, completing paperwork, preparing to pass along information to the morning shift. Stone was there. Walking around with a coffee cup permanently hooked to the index finger of his right hand.  The Chief would be arriving soon.  No doubt Stone would spend at least an hour, as he does every morning, with his nose stuck securely up the Chiefs backside.  

The long night was about to end. The nights were always long when radio calls were few and far between. O’Malley was tired. His shift was almost over.  He allowed himself to think longingly of his quiet apartment and the soft warm bed awaiting him. He looked at his watch. Fifteen minutes to go. “It looks like I’m going to get home on time this morning. And no one died,” he thought.  “So much for premonitions.” He hit save and then print. His nightly report began to roll out of the printer. He swiveled in his chair to retrieve it. Instantly a blinding light flooded the room, followed by a ground shaking boom throwing him to the floor.  Several seconds passed before he could see or hear clearly again.  His first thought was of his days in Iraq. Explosions occurred there most days, but not here. Not in the U.S. 

Billie and Keagan ran in. “What the hell was that?” Their portable radios instantly came to life as alert tones sounded.  Dispatchers were directing first responders to the Bio Lab on the south side of town. Southside citizens were reporting an explosion and fire, and a boiling, bluish-green cloud drifting north, away from the engulfed structure. One by one, O’Malley’s four officers in the field informed dispatch they were responding, but all went silent 60 seconds after arriving. Fire and medic units on the scene also failed to respond. Repeated efforts by dispatch for status checks from arriving units were met with total silence.    Finally, a radio mic was keyed and left open for several seconds. No one spoke, only screams and shots were heard in the background. 

O’Malley and his two officers rushed toward the headquarters’ front door, determined to get to the unfolding disaster as soon as possible. “We might need you too Lieutenant,” O’Malley shouted.  Stone’s response was simply a blank stare. He never spoke. He never moved. He just stood there. “Fine Lieutenant, you’d only get in the way anyway. If you need me, you’ll know where I’ll be.” “So useless,” O’Malley thought, as he exited the building.

Outside, streams of terror stricken people greeted them - all running north through the city streets. Shouting and screaming, their eyes were wide with fear. One passing woman shouted mostly unintelligible words. But the word, “Infected,” was distinct.

The three stood in astonishment, not fully comprehending what they were seeing. They weren’t sure what to do. Near the back of the fleeing mob, a different kind of people came into view. People with whitish pale, translucent skin; with faces twisted in agony and pointed protruding teeth. Bloody slobbers dripped from their mouths. Long stringy veins dangled and swayed from those horrible mouths. Their clacking teeth meant death for anyone unfortunate enough to be pulled down. They were not especially fast, but were relentless. They swarmed like bees to honey, each time a victim was brought down. Razor-like 2-inch claws ripped and tore at flesh. 

All the while the billowing bluish-green cloud rolled over more and more people. Inside the cloud, screams were heard as engulfed humans were hideously transformed into Infected. Many wore ripped and tattered clothing. Billie was the first to notice flashes of blue clothing among the infected. “Those are cops,” she screamed to O’Malley and Keagan. “We gotta get outta here, Sarge,” as she dropped two with her 9 millimeter.

PRESENT DAY

“We’re leaving O’Malley. We’re heading back to the city.”

O’Malley turned to see Stone briskly walking toward him. “Odd, considering Stone had not walked the perimeter once since they’d arrived,” he thought.    

“Who’s leaving? Whaddya mean we’re leaving?” O’Malley asked. 

“All of us,”  Stone responded. “We’re going back to the city. No doubt things are under control there now. Probably the National Guard has shown up. I’m sure it’s safe for us to go back.”

“That’s crazy Lieutenant. We’ve not had radio contact with anyone for 4 days. No cell service, nothing. We’re safe here, at least for now. Going back to the city would be stupid. No one’s going anywhere, Lieutenant.”

“This is not a request or a suggestion, O’Malley. It’s an order. And I believe I am your superior.” Stone’s voice was louder now as his lips began to tremble. 

O’Malley turned to face him, “No Lieutenant, we are not leaving. There’s no Sergeant or Lieutenant anymore. There’s only us, trying to survive. We’re not leaving.”      

Stone, shouting now, “I’ll have your badge. Your days as a cop are over O’Malley. You hear me? Over! We are leaving. We cannot stay here or we’ll all die.” 

“What about the injured Lieutenant? We can’t move them. If we leave them, they will die,” O’Malley calmly replied. 

“They’ll only slow us down O’Malley. Can’t you see that?” Stone continued his tirade.

O’Malley was getting mad now, too. “You piece of shit! You are such a fucking coward! You never cared about anyone and anything except yourself. I’m not leaving those people. You want to go, go. And anyone who wants to go with you feel free. But I’m staying. You can take what guns belong to you, but that’s it. You understand?”

“You little shit. How dare you speak to me like that? You’re fired!! You hear me? Fired!” Stone was shaking with rage. He took a step towards O’Malley with clenched fists. 

Immediately Keagan and Billy stepped between the two. Facing Stone, Keagan said, “It ain’t happening Lieutenant.” 

“Just go,” Billy added. “You don’t get it, do you Lieutenant?” Billy asked. “There ain’t no more police department. There ain’t no more chief. There ain’t no more Mayor. Hell, they’re all dead or one of those monsters on their way here right now. For that matter, there ain't no more city. For all we know there ain’t no more U.S. of A. We may be the only people left alive in the whole world, so we have to help each other. If you ain’t up for that than go Lieutenant. Just go.”  

Outnumbered, Stone turned and stomped away, but not without a parting shot at the lineage of all three.  

The sun was low in the sky. Leaving now was not a good idea. O’Malley tried to convince Stone to wait until morning, but he was determined to go. It was beneath him to take advice from a mere Sergeant. 

An hour later, Stone and 20 others left the compound and headed south, back towards the city. Those remaining watched as they disappeared into the shadowy tree line. Fifteen minutes passed. Singles and then pairs of the watching group turned away. Returning to the warehouse to prepare for the long, sleepless night to come.

A shot! Then another! And another! Soon multiple shots were blasting through the forest. All from the area the departing group was last seen moving towards. Then shouts! And then screams! And clacking, that terrible clacking sound from the gnashing, ripping teeth of the Infected. A sound they’d heard four days before while fleeing the city. Then silence. A deep, dark underground-cave kind of silence. 

A wobbly figure emerged from the tree line. A man. He ran as a drunk would. Falling, getting up, running a crooked path, and falling again. There was something else odd about the runner. He was lopsided. Something was missing. 

Keagan was the first to solve the mystery. “My God Sarge, his right arm is gone.”

Recognition came to all three at once. It was Stone. His shrill voice called out for help. Twenty howling and clacking Infected emerged from the tree line behind the fleeing figure. One had something in its mouth. It looked like an arm. Stone fell for the third and final time. The pursuing Infected caught up with him easily. They pounced as a cat would on a mouse. A few seconds of curdling screams - then nothing. Silence again. The Infected paused and looked in the direction of the shocked spectators by the warehouse. Then, the Infected turned and walked back into the now darkened forest. 

All stood in spellbound horror. The premonition of five days before returned to O’Malley. Death was coming. Indeed, death was here. Ahead, lay the long night. Would they still be alive in the morning? The only thing clear was they had to fight. What choice did they have? Give up? Die? Food for the Infected? Soon they would know. Soon they would come. The sun was setting.