Over My Shoulder

Jake Paulson

The rain beats out a rhythmic tune on the cruiser's hood as I tap my fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. My shift was done ten minutes ago, but, as usual, I'm late getting off again, at no fault of my own. The town just decides to ruck up its crime at the same exact time I'm supposed to clock out every night, and tonight seems to be the worst. If I didn't love my career I would've complained long ago. I'll admit, it gets irritating sometimes, especially when I have plans with Jonathon and Miya, or have a surprise I want to do for them, or I'm just exhausted and wanting to sleep in my own bed, but I enjoy the thrill of being a police officer, being able to help out those within my own community. Whether they are grateful or not, though, is the only down side. But, as I always say, the smile and praise from one outweighs the attitude, threats, and cursing from a thousand.

"The new Dorola Virus plaguing China has reached the States, causing the death toll to rise to 129,527 as of this morning, according to an updated report. These numbers are up almost triple since the report four nights ago. The CDC is cautioning everyone to take precautions for your health and safety, and to wear face masks to prevent further spreading. If you, or anyone you know, experiences any of these symptoms, you are being urged to seek medical attention at your nearest ER. Symptoms include high fever, loss of appetite, severe stomach cramping, loss of feeling through your sternum and hands, loss of consciousness, bloody vomit, bloody stools, hallucinations, aggressive behavior, yellow tinted eyes, or prominent veins. These are the more serious symptoms noticed. If you cannot make it to your nearest ER, you are being urged to quarantine anyone who exhibits symptoms. In the case of death, contact your local police department to make a report. Do not approach anyone showing signs of being infected. If you notice anyone exhib---"

My walkie buzzes to life as Officer Shultz comes over the station radio. My fingers automatically mute the car's radio so I can listen in to something new. I'm already aware of the symptoms. We've had calls for crazy people all day expressing similar symptoms, mainly aggression, bloody vomiting, and hallucinations following an elevated fever.

"W-one-five-five, suspect apprehended. He was just like the others."

I pick mine up and respond back instantly. "10-4. How bad this time?"

"Suspect got one of the elderly and her grandchildren. Granny's gone, and the children are torn up. Hardly recognizable as children anymore, though, to be honest. Just piles of clothes, blood...the works. It's not a pretty sight, even for us vets. I sent for medical already, but haven't heard anything back from their end." The walkie crackles and fizzes as he moves around some. "Standby for backup. There's movement upstairs."

I sit still, my mind buzzing with information. In the past hour there have been over 70 reports of murders, people with suspected rabies or drug use, bitings, arson and explosions, thefts, you name it. The Virus spreading as quickly as it has put a lot of people in fear-mode, and the recent grouping of attacks hasn't helped ease that fear.

I start as a loud smack resonates on my window, my body jumping into action before my mind has even comprehended what has happened.

Thank god for muscle memory, training, and reflexes.

My eyes focus out the window at the lady bashing endlessly on my door and window, her mouth wide open as she lets out small shrieks that echo in the cab. It's not at all the scream of a woman. I shake the image of a video game zombie from my head that the screams conjure up. Who can blame a guy for that image coming to mind when everyone we've encountered tonight has looked like a video game monster?

I crack my window down an inch, the rain quickly entering along with her fingers.

"Ma'am, are you alright?" A groan and shriek is her only response. "Ma'am, I'm going to ask you to step away from the vehicle. Step away from the vehicle right now so I can help you." Again she groans as she shoves her fingers farther through the gap in my window, her mouth now pressed against the glass. A mottled tongue rolls against the window grotesquely.

Her hair is, from the looks of it, brown, but the rain is soaking her to the bone so that is most likely a trick of the night. The hair hangs in limp, stringy strands down her back and shoulders. Brown eyes, the whites yellow with red laced through, stare wide at me as she presses her face against the glass more, her pink tongue rolling out to flick across the window some more. Her skin is ashen as she stands there, one bloody hand bashing against the window now while the other still works to wiggle through the cracked window. Her labored breaths fog up the glass as she continues her assault.

"Jesus...I'm not asking again." My voice is strong and calm, the words laced with authority, but my heart is racing with adrenaline and nerves. What the hell is wrong with her? We've come across males and females all night with the same symptoms, shrieking and running at us while blood drips from their clothes and faces, their eyes yellowed and lined with red. Is it a new strain of drug? The Virus? Just everybody's crazy side coming out as the storm gets worse? Human rabies? With all the movies and games nowadays I can't really rule out zombies, though I scoff at the idea. Zombies are a Hollywood mode of profit, stoking people's more creative and gruesome tendencies. Tazors have been ineffective for the majority of our cases, so it's something strong. We had to put the one guy down because he took down one of our officers with his teeth. I still have yet to hear about the officer's condition, but I hope he's stable.

I pick up my com and radio in.

"W-one-seven-five, do you copy?" Static is my only response. I try again. "Officer Shultz, I said do you copy? Have you found anything?" More static. I curse and slam my fist on the dash. I try dispatch. "Dispatch, this is W-one-five-five, Officer Paulson. I've got a woman out here who's attacking my cruiser. She fits the same description as the rest, and she's adamant about getting in...she's even licking the window and staring at me. I'm wondering what exactly Sergeant Strums wants us to do? Use force, niceties, what?" I clear my throat. "I also haven't heard back from W-one-seven-five, Officer Shultz. He was checking out the house on Chestnut. Any word?"

More static answers me, then an electronic whine. Then, "Paulson, we read you. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but we can't send out back up and he wants as many of the psychos brought in as you guys can get. All other units are tied up or not responding, and we're in lock-down. The inmates are going crazy and keeping us all on our toes. But, speaking of which, no, he hasn't radioed back in yet. If you manage to deal with this one in a timely fashion, want to go do a checkup, make sure everything's alright over there? We're needing all able-bodied officers on the streets tonight."

"10-4." I put the cruiser in drive and slowly give it gas as I replace the walkie, the car lurching forward into motion as the woman clings desperately to the window. The only sound, besides the rain, is her screeching as she attempts to get in. I holler out the window as I slow back down. "Ma'am, please. Let go, for the safety of you and I both."

She's not going to let go. You've seen the others tonight. Just close the window and leave her. She'll be fine with a few bruised fingers. She's sick and gone anyway, same as the rest from today. My thoughts bounce around in my head as the cruiser slowly crawls to a stop, my foot no longer on the gas. I throw it into park as I whip the door open, throwing the woman off balance as I do so.

She quickly rights herself and lunges at me, the fingers that were hooked onto my window seconds ago now reaching for my face. I make a split second decision and duck, my arms pushing outwards to throw her sideways and away from me. I reach for my gun, the small frame feeling homey in my grip. Without a second guess I raise it and take aim. Second guessing earlier almost put me six feet under with the other officer, and the tazers were ineffective. We've had to use more lethal force than I'm comfortable with tonight.

A noise rings out behind me, causing her to grunt. It's almost a happy sound coming from her throat. Behind me is my cruiser, in front of me is the woman, and, from the sounds of it, on the other side of the cruiser is something clanging about, like metal on metal. Her eyes stay trained on me as she slows down, then rushes me. I aim for her leg and pull the trigger, the bullet hitting home but not slowing her down. I pop off another shot before she rams into me, my back slamming into the driver's door as she grapples against me, her face now inches from mine as she snaps her teeth together. I bite back a gag as her putrid breath snakes across my face. I muster my strength and push against her, my forearm in her throat as I push. I take satisfaction as her body tumbles backward, her feet flying up as the rest of her topples to the ground. Within seconds I'm back in my cruiser, the doors locking shut behind me.

I pick up my radio and try Shultz again. "Shultz, do you copy? I need to know you're alright, buddy. There's more of these crazies on the streets now than there were earlier. Dispatch is having troubles back at the station and they can't reach anyone. I need to know you got out okay."

The woman, now on her feet, throws herself at the window, which I quickly roll closed, as two more bodies slam into the passenger side. From the looks of it, they're both male. One looks to be in his late twenties, but it's hard to tell with a good portion of his face hanging off, and the other looks to be 16. All three of them look like they've seen better days. I set the radio down and grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white.

Fuck this.

I throw the cruiser into drive and bump down the road, the car speeding away from the psychos attacking my cruiser and I relentlessly. I head in the direction of Chestnut, wondering if Shultz came across any of the psychos like I did, and wondering if, if he did, he fared better or got the short end of the stick. My radio buzzes to life with static on the seat beside me. I eagerly pick it up, my eyes glancing at the bodies in the distance in my rearview as I pick up a bit more speed.

"Paulson, W-one-five-two radioed in. She's in need of backup close to your location. Uh, a group of about nine males cornered her at the Depot store. She managed to get into the store and is there with two others: the night clerk, Travis, and a kid, name unknown to us at this time. Uh, the males chased her from a reckless driving stop with pipes and knives, and they're now pressing and banging against the windows of the store, yelling incoherently, trying to break in. She suspects drugs or alcohol are in effect, but needs backup since it's a hostile group and civilians are involved. Hopefully you're out of your jam because I told her you'd be her backup, ETA ten minutes max. Sorry, Paulson. You're the only one we've been able to reach other than her right now." And with that, the radio dies down once more and I'm left having to change course, my wheels squealing on the rain slicked road as I make a hard left towards the store instead of right towards Shultz.

Within a couple minutes the Depot looms into view. The gray concrete building is one story high and is connected to the local mechanic's shop on its left. A trail of windows lines the front of the building, "Sale, 15% off!" posters lining their clear faces. Shelves loaded with various items can be seen through the glass faces.

Just as dispatch relayed, a group of males are pressed against the glass, one of them banging a pipe weakly at the door. But, there's only four instead of the nine called in. I press on the gas and rev the engine, turning my siren on as the lights flash across their bodies.They all turn and stare for a second before rushing towards my vehicle.

Not what I was planning. s**t. Dispatch didn't say these were crazies! Not what I was hoping for.

I slam on the brakes to avoid hitting them directly, the tires sliding across the slick ground as the group rushes closer. One of them has an arm that is barely attached, the limb swinging like a pendulum as the few strands of muscle fight to keep hold while another has broken glasses set upon his face, the lenses long gone now. I grab the loudspeaker attached to the console between the front seats and raise it to my mouth, my skin greasy with sweat now as I fight for control. Within a moment, though, my brain changes courses. Going over the loudspeaker hasn't helped my case at all today, and, from the sounds of it, none of the other officers have had luck with it, either. My other hand grabs my walkie and clicks the Receive button while my other hand raises the loudspeaker microphone to the device. My ears cringe as an electronic whine screams through the air, the fragile silence pierced.

Two of the men slow down and c**k their heads to the side, their bodies mimicking one another, while the rest continue towards my cruiser. I stare blankly out the window. What the hell am I supposed to do? They didn't teach us this kind of protocol at the academy! In all my years I've never seen chaos this bad...

The male with the pipe rushes my window, his guttural scream echoing off the glass pane as he raises his arm, the one with the fingers clutching desperately around the hilt of the pipe, and smashes it into the fragile pane. A spider-web of cracks rush across the window as he prepares to swing again, the same moment I decide that enough is enough. I press on the gas, thankful I never put the cruiser into park, and jolt forward enough to where the dingy pipe meets nothing but air. The two that had stopped still stand ahead a ways, closer to the storefront, their heads c****d to the right in synchronization. No-Arm, the one whose arm is barely attached anymore, uses himself as a battering ram against my rear-windshield, the pipe now gone from his grasp, his face leaving bloody smears where it connects with a bang, bang, bang. Broken Glasses appears behind him and joins in with his own cacophony of bangs and grunts.

"Paulson? Paulson? Is that you out there?" my radio crackles to life as Sonia's, also known as W-one-five-two's, voice fizzes over. "I sure hope it is. You're the only one dispatch could relay to. What is going on out there? It's like everyone's gone mad! This is madness!"

I chuckle at that, a nervous habit I've had since I was a child. There's really nothing humorous about the situation. In fact, I was thinking the same thing, but hearing someone else voice the same concern brings about my bout of giggles. At least I'm not the only officer who's clueless.

"Sonia, the whole damn world's been mad for decades. Life just got tired of hiding it and it just now showed itself today. Got a question for you, though. What the hell happened to these guys? Why is one guy bashing himself into my cruiser with an arm that is half gone?" I press on the gas again as I set my walkie down, this time my brain making the decision to just drive in a wide circle to have them trail after me and away from the store. The sound of his body banging into my rear windshield is sickening and tiresome. The radio crackles, but nothing comes through. Then, Sonia's voice, accompanied by shattering glass.

"Paulson, I'm in need of backup! Get your ass over here and stop driving in circles, please!" The remaining five males, the ones that hadn't been there moments before, are now sprawled through the glass of one of the shop's windows, their bodies surging forward towards Sonia and the two civilians, who are huddled behind the counter. I watch as Sonia takes aim and starts firing, the distinct pop of the bullets being released reaching my ears. I rev the engine and floor it, my aim being at the other side of the store, where there's nobody there to catch the backlash of flying debris. It's the quickest way to provide my help rather than stopping, parking, and rushing the rest of the way while risking myself with the four creeps in the lot. I'll pay the damages I made to the owner in due time, but at this point in time, it's not at the top of my list. If I'm being truthful, I doubt there's even an owner left. I'm starting to think this zombie apocalypse Hollywood hype finally came true and it hit my small town of Orley.

I leave behind the two that were shambling for the back of my cruiser and rush past the spot where the other two had been standing, who have now added themselves to the group of five, now making a group of seven. Glass rains around my cruiser as I smash through the flimsy see-through wall with the posters and vault free from the seats. I pull my taser out of habit and halt. My brain short circuits as I scramble for a phrase of authority.

"Freeze!" Not the classiest line, but what else am I supposed to do?

One of the males flicks his gaze my way, his body quickly making a beeline towards me. A garbled moan reaches my ears as he picks up the pace and starts to sprint, his hands now reaching eagerly in front of him. I aim for the chest and pull the trigger, the wires connecting and zapping to life as electricity jolts through his body. He continues forward, unharmed. I quickly switch out my taser for my gun and aim for the knee cap, the bullet firing free in a cloud of smoke. Blood erupts in the air as he stumbles, but he continues on towards me, his moans turning more frantic. I release two more bullets into his leg, each one failing to slow him down despite the blood oozing freely in a puddle down his calf. His leg flops uselessly as he applies pressure, but his steps don't falter.

A feminine scream of pain echoes through the air as he lunges at me, his weight knocking me to the floor as Sonia's scream distracts me. A grunt escapes my lips as I shove my hand into his throat to force him back while my other hand connects solidly with his ribcage.

Fingernails scrape against my throat as I continue to grapple with him, my hits not deterring him in the least.

My chest constricts as I feel my energy wane. I brace my body on the floor with my legs and buck, throwing him off to the side in the process. I quickly scramble up, hitting him square in the neck with a brachial plexus. He stumbles and stops, glaring at me with primal rage before releasing an ear piercing screech through bloodied lips.

"Stop resisting!" He darts forward again as I take a few hurried steps backwards to avoid him.

I raise my gun and shoot into the man's chest. He jerks, but that's it, his mass still rushing forward. I curse and aim for his head, watching as blood and brains fly free from the hole now gaping openly as he crumples just feet before me.

"Sonia!" My voice is hoarse as I holler and stumble forward past the body. I've never killed a man before. Not in any of my years as an officer. I've shot to protect myself and others and to stop a charging maniac, but I've never taken a life, only shot to wound, and here I've just shot a man through the skull because the prior bullets didn't phase him. I didn't even land a fatal shot earlier in the day when our officer got attacked. It was the others who managed it. Hopefully Miya forgives me for this. "Sonia!"

Another scream echoes through the air, this time male, followed closely by a child's voice.

"Help me!"

I round the counter I'd been running at where a till hangs haphazardly over the side of the counter. Gum packets, napkins, and daily newspapers litter the floor in front of an Employees Only door, which is wide open. The group of males has entered into the back room, trapping one of the two civilians in a corner. The other is scrambling up a four-tier metal shelf to safety above. Sonia is nowhere in sight. One of the males surges forward and grabs, who I'm guessing is, the store clerk by the arm, the bloody teeth quickly sinking into the clerk's bicep as he's forcibly jerked forwards into the group despite his flailing body trying to fight back. His screams are cut off as he drops under the weight of four crazed men. I duck back to avoid being seen. My breaths scrape free as my mind races to come up with a plan.

"Help me!" The child's scream is full of fear as garbled moans ring out again. "Please!"

I should turn and face the group, dispatch them so they can't do to the boy what they did to the clerk, stop their craziness before anyone else gets hurt. I should follow the oath of protecting and serving the community, especially the helpless and defenseless. But I can't make myself move. I'm frozen in shock with my back against the wall as I listen to his pleas become more frantic. Items fall in the back as his screams get louder and the moans get more eager.

Coward. You're nothing but a f*****g coward, Paulson. You're scared, you're about to piss your pants, but put yourself in that child's shoes, for God's sake! You took an oath...uphold it! Imagine he was Jonathon! You've got 3 bullets left. Put them to use and get over yourself!

I shudder as I hear a soft thud sound, a quick cry for help, a heart wrenching scream, then silence. Squelching fills the silence that takes over. I close my eyes and reprimand myself. I've failed in the one duty I should have upheld while battling myself and my mind. I froze when I should have jumped into action. And for that, I cost a boy his life. I allowed shock to take over even though we were trained in how to react when we feel shock coming on.

I open my eyes as warmth spreads across my face, a metallic smell hitting my senses as quickly as the heat. I suppress a gasp of disgust and confusion.

"Sonia?"

Red rimmed green eyes stare hungrily back at me before the woman I once knew as Sonia forces me backward.

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