Carrion (The Bren Watts Diaries #1)

Chapter 36

The twenty-first floor was filled with vectors, more than those on the twentieth—the same thing for the twenty-second and the twenty-third. If we had done the bottleneck plan right away, we'd probably have dozens of vectors on top of us in less than a minute with only Logan's ax and my ten shells to stop them.

We lucked out on the twenty-fourth floor, and Apartment 2422 was not empty.

Right at the front door, a leg propped the door from closing fully. It was a girl, maybe about nine or ten, her face and neck half-eaten and mangled, covered with maggots and other slithering insects. Her flesh already started to petrify, and she might have died when it first started. The sight alone almost made me puke.

"Keep an eye out," I said to Logan.

The rotten stench choked the room. I covered my nose as we stepped into the apartment, saw another body, a bloodied woman in a silky silver-white nightgown, had her head smashed through the television screen, the flesh now bloated and green. There was another little girl, younger and smaller than the other, a knife sticking out of her head. On the kitchen island, plates of rotting food were on display. I glanced at the hallway, and there, a man in a black robe, half parted to show his hairy chest and frontal privates, had a bullet hole on his head. On his hand was a large bite mark while the other was a revolver—surmised it was a self-inflicted gunshot. Beside him were two boys about my age, also dead, eyes up on the ceiling. I walked closer and saw they had the vector's unmistakable two pupils on each eye.

The chaos around me painted the full picture of what happened. The family got ready to settle for the night, and possibly the oldest daughter heard a noise, opened the door, and let two vectors into their home. Logan and I checked each room and found them empty.

"What a shitty way to go," Logan said, the collar of his shirt covering his nose like a mask. "I mean, just like that. Boom. An entire family, gone like nothing."

"Let's not think about it," I said.

"It's hard not to."

"Come. Help me with the bedsheets," I said, changing the subject. I grabbed the father's revolver and checked the chamber. I handed the gun to Logan. "Three shots left."

Grabbing it, he smirked as he felt the weight. "Make it count, right?"

The TV in the bedroom was still on and operational when Logan and I entered the room. I didn't expect the Emergency Alert System plastered on the screen. Emblazoned on the screen's top-center was the Great Seal of the United States, and flanked by the logos of FEMA and the CDC.

On the screen, it said: An emergency action notification for the City of New York. This is not a drill.

"The following message is transmitted at the request of the New York Police Department, in cooperation with the Centers for Disease Control and the Federal government of the United States of America.

"Federal and military authorities have issued the following: An unknown, highly contagious virus is spreading throughout the surrounding metropolitan areas. Midtown and downtown areas of Manhattan, Staten Island, Brooklyn, Queens, western suburban areas of Long Island, and downtown Harlem are heavily affected. Be advised: Do not enter the said areas.

"Symptoms include but are not limited to: nausea, vomiting, fever, flu-like symptoms, external bleeding, erratic behavior, and coma. Avoid contact with the infected. Avoid transporting said infected. Avoid local hospitals, care facilities, and transportation hubs. Infected persons are highly contagious, prone to violence, and homicidal tendencies.

"As of 4 AM today, martial law has been declared in the State of Connecticut, Delaware, New Jersey, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Eastern regions of Pennsylvania, and the State of New York south of I-88. Henceforth, per Executive Order 10995, The First Amendment will be suspended indefinitely. All communication media, internet, and broadcast must adhere to federal control, effective immediately. Curfew is in effect at 6 PM EST."