Portance of Fear is a horror fiction podcast
which is intended for mature audiences. Discretion
is advised. Welcome, fearlings, to another weird
and horrifying tale made just for you. I am your
host, Mashulu, and I'll be your guide into the
macabre and mysterious. In tonight's story, we
revisit the zombie apocalypse in The Death Cloud
Files. Before we get started... Take a moment
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The morning patrol was uneventful, which is exactly
how Allison liked it. She returned to her tent,
wrestled off her clothes, and collapsed onto
the cot. Every day, she looked at Samuel's picture
sitting on a crate next to the bed. He'd saved
her. She couldn't save him. The anger of this
fact had grown into a vile root in her heart.
Outside, refugees from Los Angeles started their
day. Cooking, farming, fishing, and multiple
other things to keep the camp going needed to
be done. The clamor of work didn't keep Allison
awake, though. She fell into a deep sleep. Zach
still haunted her every time she closed her eyes.
It had been two years, and she could still see
his perplexed face. Could she have done more
to save him? She wasn't sure. He was so confused.
At the time, they were very young, but the last
two years had added a lifetime of unwanted experiences
on her. That look of horror and confusion on
his face right as the infected slammed into him
woke her. It was 4 o 'clock p .m., and the world
was still ending. A figure stood outside her
tent. Allison, you up? Burbank needs you, the
shadow asked. Yeah, Finn, I'm up. Tell her I'll
be there in 20 minutes. I need to bathe, Allison
responded. She said now, Allison, your bath can
wait. Allison grabbed her bath kit and opened
the flap. She had on last week's underwear and
that's it. Her body was steel. Every muscle looked
diamond etched, every scar a badge of honor.
She got into Finn's ugly pig face and grabbed
him by his scrotum with a vice grip. I said I'll
be there in 20 minutes. She can wait. And if
you ever speak to me like that again, I'll rip
your balls off, understand? She released. Yes,
yes, ma 'am. Then painfully backed away. People
stopped just long enough to watch the show. Entertainment
was scarce. Water rationing was strict. Fresh
water was held for drinking in crops, which meant
one had to use salt water to wash off. She ran
into the freezing waves. The cold sent a shock
through her body. Using her fingers, she combed
through matted hair. She thought about just chopping
it all off. Many of the people did. The salt
stung her eyes. She walked back onto the shore
to dry off. This could have waited, Burbank sneered
a few feet away. No, it couldn't. Don't send
that idiot to fetch me anymore. You want to talk?
You know where my tent is. You're not the Pope,
Allison spat. I am the leader of this camp. I
have a duty to perform. You will come when I
call. No, I won't. You need my supporters, and
you know it. Get over yourself, Burbank. No one's
impressed. I know what you did. Now, what's so
important that you couldn't wait 20 minutes,
Allison chided. Rage bubbled to the top of Burbank's
throat, but she swallowed it back down. Walk
with me, Burbank commanded. Say the magic word,
Allison said. Burbank gritted her teeth and thought
about drowning her. Please. The two women walked
along the beach. Allison glanced at L .A. across
the water. Every so often there was smoke, sometimes
even copters flying overhead, but they hadn't
heard anything since the military strike a year
prior. Suffice it to say, the military lost,
and all troops were pulled out of L .A. and Catalina.
Civilians were left behind, no word why. People
used to try to swim the 22 miles from the city.
Every day for the first year, bodies would wash
up on the shore. Allison remembered dragging
them to the bonfires. The smell of cooking flesh
lingered in her nostrils. Burbank walked next
to Allison. She had tan skin, yellowed hair,
and the sinewy look of someone who can't get
food every day. The apocalypse wasn't known for
its buffets. One of our people, Velma Wallace,
says there's an underground lab in Hawthorne
where this mess started. Okay, so what? Burbank
stopped walking. Would you knock it off? I know
why you're like this. It's been over a year since
Sam died. I can't bring him back. No, you can't.
But you could decide who lived and died. You
didn't have to kill him. You picked him out because
he was older. You didn't fight the military on
anything as long as they were giving you food,
fresh water, and dreams of a normal life. Well,
look how that turned out. I didn't have as much
say as you think. Plus, it wasn't just old people
and you know it. We had over 10 ,000 people on
this tiny island with more arriving every day.
Major Jackson was right. We had to thin the herd,
Burbank snapped. Thin the herd? Do you hear yourself?
We didn't thin the herd. You killed thousands
of people, slaughtered them in their tents. We
could have found another way. No, we couldn't,
and you know that. We're still dangerously overpopulated.
Food is running out. It hasn't rained enough.
We're in trouble, Allison. You have to snap out
of this depression. I need your support. I need
you to let go of the hate you have for me, or
a lot more people are going to die. Burbank,
you're the only one who should die. Allison walked
away. Manuel Gomez, 36, San Diego, California,
four days after contagion, 3 o 'clock a .m. Manuel
screamed himself and the rest of his family awake.
Baby, it's okay. You were dreaming, Rosa comforted.
She signaled the kids to go back to sleep. Manuel
put his head in his hands. I know. I'm sorry,
honey. I need to go back. I need to find mom
and dad. I should never have left them behind,
Manuel said. Sweetie, your mother told you to
leave. She wanted us and the kids to be safe.
She said she'd get here as soon as she could.
Rosa, it's been four days. Mom hasn't even called.
They didn't make it out. I don't think they even
left the donut shop. I have to go back. If they're
those things now, I need to put them to rest.
No. You heard the news. The military has quarantined
all of L .A. County. No one in or out. They're
doing sweeps of neighborhoods to find survivors.
Let them deal with it. You're needed here. The
sound of crying drew their attention. It was
Maria, their seven -year -old. Maria, baby, it's
all right. Daddy, you can't go. It's okay, baby.
See, Manuel, you're scaring the kids. Manuel
took Maria's hands. My sweetheart, I love you.
I know you don't understand now. But I have to
go help your grandma and grandpa. The most important
thing is to be there for your family. I'll be
back before you know it. This is insane, Manuel.
What about us and your siblings? We're your family
as well, and we need you, Rosa insisted. Richie
and Leonardo can take care of you and the kids
till I get back. I want you all to go to Mexico.
What? We've never been to Mexico. My Spanish
sucks. I know, but you need to get as far from
L .A. as you can. I don't think the military
can contain this. The news says that the infected
could already be outside the county. Manuel jumped
out of bed and started to put his clothes on.
What if they decide to nuke the site? Then they
nuke the site. Love, these are my parents. I'm
going. You'll be okay. He walked to the door,
and they all started crying. It didn't stop him.
Outside, the air was cool. He could hear Rosa
trying to settle the kids down inside. His heart
broke. You're going back to find Mom, aren't
you? Richie asked. Manuel hadn't seen him standing
outside his motel room. Yeah. I'm coming with
you. No, kid brother, you're not. You have to
get the family to Mexico. I'm counting on you.
Fine, but you know it won't be easy getting back
into the city. Plus, you hate guns. How are you
going to defend yourself, Richie pressed? Not
sure to be honest. Right. Mom always put too
much faith in you. They both smiled. Richie threw
Manuel his keys. Take my bike. It'll get you
there fast and you can avoid the police. Also,
stop by my place. I left some guns in the upstairs
closet. Thanks, Richie, Manuel replied. You're
welcome. You better get going. They hugged and
Manuel rode off into the early morning darkness.
Velma Wallace, 52, Secret Lab, 6 miles below
Hawthorne, California, infection day, 8 o 'clock
AM. Velma stared at the television screen. She
couldn't understand what went wrong. All the
driver needed to do was get XV3 -7 out of the
city. Her whole world was coming apart. Chaos
spread as fast as the contagion. Saul, you said
your driver was reliable. Does that look reliable,
Velma snapped. She pointed at the screen. The
outbreak was already on every channel. Saul put
away his vape and considered how he'd get out
of this situation. Rick is... was reliable. Wow.
I didn't think the explosion would have been
that big. I can't tell you what went wrong, but
it's done. We can't put the genie back in the
bottle, Saul pointed out. Velma turned quickly
and advanced on Saul. Put the genie back in the
bottle? You twit. I hold you personally responsible
for this. Your death will be told to school kids
to frighten them. Velma moved for her desk to
grab her taser, but Saul, predicting her murderous
rage, already had it in his coat pocket. He shoved
it into her back. 75 ,000 volts coursed through
her body. She contorted and fell like a redwood.
All she could do was drool and twitch. I think
not. I've had enough of your abuse for one lifetime,
Velma. The staff and I are leaving. Good luck.
The last thing Velma saw was Saul's foot slamming
into her face. She woke up two hours later. The
lab had been evacuated. Her phone and laptop
were gone. The cherry on top? The doors to the
lab were open. Security cameras showed movement.
The infected had slowly filtered in. Saul left
her to die. Probably the smartest thing he'd
ever done, she thought. Crawling on the floor,
she shut the blinds and closed the office doors.
Plan. I need one. If I can get to lab 13, I can
grab the antitoxin, save the right people, and
maybe I fix this mess, she told herself. She
looked at the security feed. Several infected
were between her and lab 13. Damn, you saw. Something
started banging on the door. Groans followed.
I need to leave. She quickly went out the opposite
door and ran straight into a huge undead lab
employee. His eyes were solid white, and he had
several bite marks all over his body. Blood stained
his blue overalls. His name tag said Billy. Velma
remembered him. She'd yelled at him for being
fat. The company did offer weight loss programs.
Why should anyone have to look at this pile of
flab, she thought. Billy lurched forward, arms
extended, mouth open. Velma moved fast, dodging
his grab attempt and tripping him. He fell hard.
She looked back as he started to pull himself
up. Pathetic. She made her way to the supply
room, hiding from the infected by ducking into
secure areas. When she finally opened the lockers,
all the hazmat gear was gone. Trying to make
this my tomb, Saul, she thought. Velma made her
way to the loading dock. It had a large amount
of infected roaming around, but it also had a
company tanker truck. In it would be safety gear
like a gas mask. Velma carefully made her way
across the floor, hiding behind large containers.
She felt like she was trapped in a video game.
Once at the truck, she carefully opened the door.
Staring at her was an orange cat. It seemed unconcerned
by the state of the world. How the hell did you
get in here? She climbed in, closed the door,
and went to the sleeper compartment. The cat
never moved. Pictures hung on the cabin walls
of the cat and its owner, Billy. I have bad news
for you, cat. Your owner's dead. Ish. And no,
not because of a heart attack. I'm sure you would
assume that, she smiled. There was hazmat gear
under the bunk with a shotgun and some bullets.
She grudgingly respected Billy's setup, even
wishing he had been picked as the driver. Maybe
her lab wouldn't be full of infected right now.
Velma peered outside. She didn't see any infected
near the truck. She knew the warehouse door was
open, but it was a long way up to the surface.
She put on the gas mask. It was going to be a
long shot to make it, but it was also her only
shot. She turned the key and the engine rumbled
to life. Velma slowly led the clutch out in first
gear and she applied the gas. The cat went back
to the sleeper compartment and laid on the bed
unfazed. The truck lurched forward, its sound
drawing notice as expected. The infected began
banging on the doors and trying to climb up onto
the sides and hood. Some fell under its wheels,
crushing them. One infected was able to get up
on the hood. The truck reached 10 miles per hour
as it crawled up the ramp. Velma looked at the
controls. The tanker was carrying 9 ,000 gallons
of something. She had no clue what. She hit the
emergency button, dumping the liquid from the
back, causing the infected to fall. The lightened
tanker started to pick up speed. The undead man
on the hood held onto the side mirror support
with one hand, while slamming his fist against
the window, a crack began to form. She drove
the truck close to the wall to knock him off.
His body smeared against the stone. He finally
fell away. She eventually made it out of the
warehouse and turned onto the main access road.
The green fog had settled just over the 405 freeway
north of the lab, but it didn't matter. The infected
were moving rapidly out of the cloud zone. All
of Inglewood had been enveloped in that cloud,
but that's where she needed to go. People ran
in every direction as the undead picked them
off one by one. She smiled. I created the perfect
virus. Too bad it's infecting the wrong continent.
It became clear that driving wasn't an option.
She pulled the truck over, left the door open,
and started on foot to the safe house in Inglewood
with murderous intent. Eve Yelts, 25, Burbank,
California, five days after contagion. Eve stared
at the corpse on her floor. Killing was a new
experience for her. She wasn't sure how to feel
about it. The TV cut out the day before. Internet,
too. The last thing they said was that the military
was coming into L .A. and to shelter in place.
It would all be over soon. They had said the
same thing about COVID. The green fog didn't
reach the city of Burbank, but the undead had.
Mobs of infected roamed the streets. She didn't
really know her neighbor, but when he knocked
on her door frantically that morning, she let
him in. He was bleeding from a bite wound on
his arm. It didn't take long for him to turn
undead. She was in the kitchen getting water.
Within a moment, he attacked. She grabbed a knife
from the block as he tried to tackle her and
rammed it into his skull. She quickly washed
off all the blood, shaking the entire time. Once
done, she knew she couldn't shelter in place,
not with a corpse in her kitchen. Eve filled
a backpack with a few items, put on a leather
jacket despite the heat, and headed out. Loneliness
is the first thing that hits a person when the
world ends. Eve had a light blue electric -powered
Vespa. She wished she had a car at that moment.
At least it's quiet, she thought. She headed
out, not sure where she was going. She thought
about her old life as a video editor. That life
was gone when the explosion went off in Santa
Monica. She couldn't believe how quickly it was
all coming apart. Several cars had been abandoned
in the streets. There were signs of struggles,
and even a few half -eaten undead with no way
to move. They reminded her of turtles flipped
over on their shelves. She glanced in her side
mirror. One lone infected was running after her.
She sped up. On her left and right, six undead
came out of nowhere, sprinting for her. She almost
fell off the bike as fear took over. They leapt,
but she was able to move out of the way. Now
she had a trail of them stalking her. Catalina,
she thought. She never took her Vespa so far,
but her battery was full, and she figured the
freeway was safer than circus streets. She had
to lose these infected somehow. The northbound
5 freeway was packed with cars. Their horns screeched
with panicked ferocity. People fled on foot,
running while the undead attacked. Every bite
added to their numbers. She zoomed onto the southbound
5, which was relatively empty, and stayed to
the far right. She'd never seen so much carnage.
It was a human slaughterhouse. The infected pulled
people out of cars and feasted on them. The asphalt
turned red. Some of them turned to watch her
speed by the other side of the freeway, mouths
full of quivering gore. It was horrific. but
she couldn't help them. She kept going. Her bike
died 10 miles from Long Beach. She'd driven it
at full clip for over an hour. It was meant for
around -town driving, not zombie apocalypses.
The infected faded with every mile, thankfully.
As she walked, she could feel the world changing
around her. Her nerves felt fried. A mass of
people confronted her at the docks. Boats, many
overloaded, were trying to make it to Catalina.
Fights broke out as people panicked. A voice
came from behind her. Looks like getting a boat
is treacherous. What's your name? She turned.
He was handsome, tall, had dark eyes and a sly
smile. Eve stared at him for a moment. My name
is Burbank. Like the city? Like the city. Okay,
Burbank. A few of my friends and I are heading
to the island. It's going to get violent, but
we can take you with us. He leaned in with a
grin. Seems like the island's a bad call. It
can't hold all these people. I was thinking of
going east. I wouldn't. The military is already
closing off the entire county. We're better off
on the island. You in? Peter asked. Yeah, but
I'm not blowing you for the ride. Understood.
Just sex. Let's go, he smiled. Manuel Gomez,
36, Englewood, California, four days after the
explosion, 5 o 'clock p .m. Manuel didn't recognize
his old neighborhood. Burned out buildings, abandoned
cars, and badly damaged corpses were everywhere.
The green fog had cleared, so that was at least
good. Until he got to the quarantine zone, Rosa
had been texting him, but he didn't respond.
He got the rifle from his brother's house. It
was strange to walk through the living room,
pictures of a past life gone. He didn't stay.
He entered the donut shop. It was quiet. Slowly
climbing the stairs, he peered into his parents'
room. His father, Diego, still in bed, was a
sickly green color with milky white eyes. Sofia
sat next to him. Her eyes and skin had decayed
slightly less. but she was still very undead.
She noticed him and like a 20 -year -old Olympian
sprinted toward the door. Manuel panicked, dropped
his gun and slammed it in her face. She threw
herself against the wood. He started to cry.
Hey, couldn't shoot your mom, could you? At the
top of the stairs was a woman in her 50s with
short blonde hair, blue eyes and a shotgun. Who
are you? He glanced over his shoulder while still
keeping the door shut. I'm Velma and you must
be Manuel. How do you know my name? Sophia used
to talk about what an amazing man you had turned
out to be. I got donuts here every week. I'm
surprised I'm not a thousand pounds, to be honest.
I loved this place. If we don't stop your mother,
she'll keep slamming herself against that door.
I can help you. No, I need to do it, Manuel replied,
tears still streaming down his cheeks. All right,
I'll help, the woman said. She stood next to
the door, holding it closed until Manuel could
get into position. He'd never fired a rifle before.
On his word, she swung the door open wide. Sophia
exploded out of the room. He fired. Manuel knelt
down next to her. I'm sorry, Mom. He walked into
the room. Diego, who was unable to leave the
bed, thrashed with rage. Goodbye, Dad. I love
you. The two stood in silence for a good five
minutes. Velma put her hand on his shoulder.
It's over. They're in a better place. You should
get out of here. Why is this happening? A man
named Saul Anifin created a toxin. Brilliant
man, but heartless. I tried to warn the company
about what he was plotting. No one listened.
He caused a tanker truck with his creation to
explode in Santa Monica, all so he could test
it on humans. None of us knew what he planned
to do, Velma lied. Jesus, where is he now? Not
sure. The second that explosion happened, he
disappeared. Speaking of which, we need to get
out of here. Where are you going? Catalina. It's
going to be the military base from what I understand.
I plan to track down Saul with their help and
make him pay for all this death. Interesting.
How are you getting any news on your phone? All
internet and landlines are down. I was staying
in a company safe house nearby. They had separate
lines for everything, but it got compromised,
unfortunately. I saw you come in and recognized
your face, thought I'd help. Where are you headed
to, Velma asked. With you. I want to help catch
Saul. Look, I'm not going to catch Saul. I'm
going to kill him. You're no killer, kid. Seems
like you should get back to your family. They're
alright, aren't they? Yes. They're on their way
to Mexico. My wife is going to be upset for a
long time. She didn't want me to come here. I
can understand why. It's very dangerous. You
should head back. She loaded the shotgun and
cocked it, then laid it on her shoulder. Why
did you do that? You're kidding, right? The undead
are everywhere right now. You need to be ready.
I really think you should get back home, Velma
advised. I said I'm sticking with you. I'm going
to find Saul. I want to see the man that killed
my parents. He has to pay. You sure? It might
take me a long time to catch Saul. I could just
send word to you when he's dead. No, I need to
do this. My brothers will watch my family while
I'm gone. Okay, suit yourself. She motioned for
him to go down the stairs. He started down. So
how are we? His body fell down the stairs. The
slug tore off the top of his head. Should have
gone back to the family, Velma lamented. She
looked at his crumpled body at the foot of the
stairs. Boy, this family has the worst luck.
Sorry, Sophia, but your son would have been dead
weight. I am going to miss your donuts, though.
Velma stood across the street, hiding in the
shadows. She watched Sophia's little donut shop
go up in flames. Cremation seemed to be the respectful
thing to do. Plus, with all the noise and lights,
it would clear her way to get out of Inglewood,
at least for a few blocks. She thought about
Saul and where he could be. She knew he didn't
flee the city. The company had secret labs everywhere.
He'd run back to them and blame her. She started
towards Catalina. She knew more killing was coming,
and she smiled with anticipation. Burbank, 27,
Catalina Island, California, present day. Burbank
followed close behind Allison. Fine, I get it.
You want me dead. Sometimes I want to die too.
But not yet. And we can get off this island before
everything goes to shit. Allison finally stopped
to face Burbank. Everything went to shit a long
time ago, and you helped it happen with your
gang of trigger -happy goons. You're right, okay?
I don't know why I hooked up with Peter or his
psychos. Maybe it was protection. I'm sorry Samuel
died. I'm sorry I'm still here, but I can't change
the past. You have to help. If not for me, for
the rest of the people in the camp who will die
if we do nothing. Allison paused to think. She
knew Burbank was right. There were still too
many people in the camp, even after the culling.
Everything would just get worse. Fine. If helping
you gets you out of my life, I say let's do it.
What's the plan? If there is an antibody to the
infection, we can start vaccinating people. I'm
betting after two years the contagion has spread
way beyond L .A. County. The military lost a
lot of people trying to take the city back. What
if this Velma person is lying to you? Maybe she
just wants off the island or is crazy or both.
Then we're stuck back on the mainland surrounded
by the undead, Allison stated. Oh no, Velma's
a great person. She's been a good friend. You'll
love her. Trust me. The two began to head back
to the camp to form a plan. I have bad news for
Burbank about Velma. Would you like us to continue
this story? Be sure to tell us in the comments.
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