New York State Penitentiary
Michael H. Marshall
August 27th, 2013
8:07 pm
The prison bus was driving along the packed I-79 freeway at such a monotonous stop-and-go pace that the most alert and hyper of prisoners were beginning to nod off. One of those prisoners was Michael Henshaw Marshall, it was a name that meant something to few but himself. His reason for being on that bus was due to his three year inprisonment on charges of; assault, carjacking, and drug-abuse.
He was a fit at the age of twenty-three, in his prime. He stood about 6',3" tall, a full 6 inches taller than most of the others on that bus. This made him look intimidating, but this also made some of the other inmates "not want to fuck with him" for lack of a better term. He was a lonely soul, to be frank.
***
“Remind me again why we are on this bus? We could be sleeping in our bunks right now.” Raymond, a fellow prisoner who assigned the seat next to me asked aloud. He let his head loll backwards, his hair draping over the seat back.
“Your guess is as good as mine.” I replied, staring out of the window. “A better question would be; why is everybody and their mother driving on I-79 at the same time?”
It was an honest question. Cars and trucks filled every square inch of the road. Up ahead the red trail of brake lights snaked on for what seemed like forever. I closed my eyes and braced my head on the window, waiting for sleep to take me.
I was just drifting off when I felt someone tap on my shoulder. I opened my eyes and turned to see Andy, a burly twenty-eight year old Caucasian staring at me.
“You wanna know why we’re on this bus?” he asked, talking low so as to not let the guards at the front or back hear.
“Sure, why not?” I replied, rubbing my head. It was getting late and I felt the early signs of a headache coming on.
“Well, way I hear’s it, there’s some pretty messed up stuff going on.”
“You really nailed that one on the head Captain Obvious.”
“Naw, I’m being serious. From what the guards’ve been whisperin’ about it’s got something to do with this disease. Disease spread by bites.”
“Bird flu. I kid you not, in two months that’s what the CDC’ll be sayin’.” Raymond retorted, turning his head slightly towards us.
“Maybe so, but I’ve never seen the guards this spooked about something before.” Andy said.
“Point taken.” Raymond replied, turning his head to stare at a piece of gum on the ceiling.
“Bites, you say?” I asked, slightly intrigued.
“Yea, bites.” Andy replied. “But that’s all they let on.”
“That sounds messed up. What kind of disease…” I was cut off by the driver slamming on his brakes. Up ahead a car horn honked, then there was something that sounded suspiciously like a gunshot, finally a scream.
“What the…?” I said pushing myself up in my seat to see what was going on.
A guard sitting at the front of the bus stood up and withdrew a pistol, definitely not normal, he turned towards us and gestured with his pistol to the lot of us.
“No one gets up ‘kay?”
He said something to the driver and then opened the door. He stepped out in a defensive position, pistol held down by his knees. He looked around and then walked down the line of cars ahead of us.
“Hey!” he yelled, “What do you think you’re…stop…I’ll shoot…STOP!” His yells morphed from angry yells into a pained cry that turned into a gargle.
Everyone in the bus looked around with a look of confusion until one of the guards began to yell.
“Holy…. That’s blood! That’s Carl’s blood!!!”
The cry resonated throughout the bus. Up and down the rows a whisper went; “Carl’s blood…Carl’s blood…” A couple of guards looked ready to bolt. The driver gestured for us to keep quiet. He stood up and leaned towards the door.
“Carl? Hey, Carl you al…”
He was cut short as Carl, with a bloodcurdling roar, stormed onto the bus and grasped the man by the shoulders and viciously bit him on the neck. The bus erupted into screams as Carl dropped the man and sighted the nearest guard. A second person stormed onto the bus and did the same.
All orders were forgotten in an instant as they began to rip apart the guards. The bus driver was starting to twitch violently, as if having a seizure. I immediately got up and made a beeline for the back of the bus. I tried to pull at the latch, it was jammed. Up front the bus was a bloodbath. I wasn’t planning on becoming a part of that orgy of cannibalism. I rammed my shoulder as hard as I could against the door.
A bloody man that looked like Raymond covered in blood stared at me, eyes wide. He made an attempt to clamor out of the writhing mass of bodies but was slowed down. Meanwhile some goofball had managed to get a grenade off of one of the guards and pulled the pin. That click turned Raymond’s attention from me to him and he was quickly tackled.
“Aw jeez…” I said, ramming the door twice as fast. Finally, after another ram the door gave and I fell straight on the hood of a car. The driver of said car was pretty freaked out to see a man fall on her car. I looked up, people swarmed the mass of cars. Some were running and shooting, others were attacking people and being eaten.
“Grenade, grenade, grenade…” I mumbled to myself as I slid off of the car and onto the ground. I was just vaulting over the sidewall when the bus exploded. I fell into the embankment and rolled over. Smacking into a tree on the way down, I hit the ground with the breath knocked out of me. Everything was blurry, fading. I stumbled to my feet.
There was a house a few yards ahead, if I could just make the house…
I managed to stumble onto the back porch, slap the door weakly and make some equally as weak cries for help.
Then everything went dark.
