by A. J. Sikes
Left to right. Up and down. Left to—
Two of them came crawling like spiders down the walls of a house on his side of the street.
They had shreds of clothing still on, and Jed could see they were both women before they changed. Jed lifted his rifle and aimed at one of them. Another string of explosions rocked the city around him. The thing on the wall snapped its head up and stared straight at Jed. He fired, putting a round right into its mouth.
It dropped like a dead cockroach, straight down to the sidewalk.
Its partner reared back and shrieked long and high. Jed pulled his shoulders up tight, trying to block his ears. Then the monster jumped for a tree next to the house. It climbed down branch to branch, moving like it was out for Jed’s blood. He shifted his aim and fired, but it was too fast and his shots missed. The monster made it to the lowest branch and seemed to hold there, like it had forgotten why it was climbing down instead of up.
The monster clawed at its own chest, leaving deep gouges in its pasty white flesh. Thick lines of blood drooled down its skin and it shrieked again. Jed went into flight mode. He turned and ran, slowing every few steps to spin back and fire off a three-round burst.
At the end of the block, Jed heard shouting and more gunfire from a few streets up. The one behind him jumped from parked cars and up into trees, onto the walls of houses and down to the street. It stopped to claw at itself sometimes, or to bite its arm before leaping after him again. Jed fired a burst at it and missed. At this rate, he’d have to change magazines before he hit it.
“Stay still, motherfucker,” Jed shouted as he paused against a van parked on the street. He fired another burst. He only had three rounds left in the magazine before he had to change. The monster was getting closer, leaping from car to tree, to the wall of the nearest house. It hung there, staring at him before jumping to the sidewalk and scrambling on all fours straight at him. It slid left and right as it moved, like it knew he had to aim to hit it.
“Shit! Stay fucking still!” Jed screamed, as he held his rifle with shaking hands and squeezed the last three-round burst out of the magazine.
— 15 —
Upper East Side, Manhattan
“It seems like it’s over,” Rex said while Meg made sure the survivors all had blankets on their cots. They bundled up extra uniforms for pillows, and even pulled the couch cushions from the day room.
“I don’t know about it being over,” Meg said when they were done with the cots. “But it does seem quieter. If any of them try to get inside, we have the hose,” Meg said, motioning at Eric. He was still by the door to the chief’s office with the nozzle up and ready.
The survivors sat on their cots, some looking shifty or just uncomfortable. The Muslim woman, who was named Abeer, held her baby close and sat off to the side of the main group. She’d been given a few looks and stares from some of the survivors. Still others seemed ready to just ignore her. Meg realized she couldn’t let it continue this way, so she said what had been on her mind since the minute the survivors showed up.
“Look everyone, we might be all that’s left. We don’t have radio contact with anyone out there.”
“What?” Rex asked, surprised.
“I checked while I was upstairs,” Meg said. “The phone’s dead. So whatever information we have is contained right here.” Meg tapped a finger against her temple. “And whatever chance of survival we have left, it’s right here,” she said, tapping her finger over her heart.
The group stared at her, even Eric, but he had a smile on his face. “Tell ’em, Meg,” he said.
“For now, we are all any of us have. That means that you, me, the person next to you, any one of us might be the one who saves your life. So we’d better get used to knowing each other and treating each other like family.”
As Meg finished, a few sirens sounded from distant neighborhoods, and gunfire popped off nearby. The survivors, as one, looked to the shutter doors. One of them held her hands up to her throat in fear. She was a heavyset white woman in a thick pink sweater and plaid skirt, like the kind Meg had seen in too many office dramas back when she watched television.
Before I met Tim and took up running as a hobby instead of holding down couches.
The large woman said, “We don’t have any guns. What if those are criminals out there? We aren’t armed!”
“Yes, we are,” Meg said. “And I don’t think those are criminals. The only people I saw with weapons were the Army, and a couple of guys trying to kill those things. I’m sure there are bad seeds out there, but for now I’d say we’re safe. Criminals will probably go for banks and liquor stores, and not necessarily in that order.”
That comment got Meg a few laughs, but the pink-sweater woman wasn’t impressed.
“I don’t see any guns here.”
“That’s because this is a fire station, ma’am. We don’t have guns. We have axes,” Meg said, holding hers up and using it to point out others that hung in a rack along the wall.
“What about food?” a dark-skinned woman asked. She sat in the front of the group with her young daughter by her side. The girl had pigtails and a look on her face to match her mother’s. But she held a hand over her stomach like she hadn’t eaten in a while. The girl couldn’t have been older than six or seven.
“We have two pantries full of dry goods. Plenty of crackers, cookies, and pasta. Cans and jars. Plus the shift fridge. If we eat through that, we’ll dip into the other fridge.”
“How can we cook it?” the pink sweater lady asked. “I mean some food you can heat up in a microwave, but…”
“We have a kitchen, ma’am. Upstairs in the day room. Full stove, oven, and yes, a microwave. We won’t starve, at least as long as the power holds out. After that, I suppose we can start a fire somehow.”
That got more laughs, and from almost everybody. Meg let the glimmer of happiness swell into a smile, even for just a second.
Might be the last time we laugh for a long while.
“The food isn’t a buffet, but it’ll keep us from going hungry tonight.”
“We’ll need medicine,” an older black woman said. She was the one from the door, with the gloves on her hands. She’d taken them off upstairs before she showered. Now she sat beside the mother and her daughter, and she still had the same determined look on her face. “I need to take my dailies. If I don’t—Well, it’s a wonder my heart is still ticking, but you know what I’m saying.”
Meg nodded. “I do, ma’am, and I’m sorry we don’t have more to offer. There’s a pharmacy a few blocks over. If it ends up looking safe, we can probably get what you need there. Later.”
Meg paused, looking at the group of survivors. “Like I said, we really don’t know anything more than you all do. If the military can be trusted—”
A loud laugh stopped Meg and she looked to the person who had complained about Abeer getting her own shower. The young woman sat on the opposite side of the group, but also at the edge, like she was announcing how much of an outcast she was.
“Did you have something to say, ma’am?”
“Do I have—What is this, fucking kindergarten?” the girl shot back. When she showed her whole face, Meg could see the girl was probably a teenager, maybe in her early twenties at most. She had a shock of blue hair stuck to one side of her head that mostly hung down in front of her eye. The rest of her head was shaved and she had more jewelry in her face than Meg had ever owned in her life.
“No,” Meg said, keeping her cool as best she could. “This isn’t kindergarten. It’s either the end of the world or, at best, an epidemic like nothing we’ve ever seen. Whichever is true, I don’t really care. My only goal is to keep us all alive and safe. As I was say—”
“Yeah, as you were saying,” the punk girl interrupted. “If the military can be trusted. Like, you know they’re probably the ones that did this, right? It’s, like, the fucking military is always experimenting and shit. Making up zombie plagues to go and fuck up the other
guys, except now they’ve fucked us in—”
“Miss,” Meg finally said, with a hand up for the girl to stop. “You need to watch your language. There are young people in the room. Some even younger than you. As for the disease, we don’t know exactly where this came from or why. But we do know how. It’s not Ebola, but it is a similar virus. That’s what the soldiers I’ve spoken to told me. It is spread by a blood-borne pathogen. So from now on, we stay away from the chief’s office and nobody touches anything that’s got blood on it. When help comes, we’ll signal them with the station alarm and open the shutters to let them in.”
“What if it isn’t help?” the punk girl asked. She was still clearly on edge, but she’d softened a bit from her earlier outburst.
“If it isn’t help, we have the hose. Eric, Rex, and I will keep watch during the night. The rest of you should split up, take the extra turnout jackets for protection and warmth. Some of you can go upstairs to the dorm room or the day room and get some sleep. The rest will have to stay down here. I’m sorry we don’t have more space.”
Meg could tell an argument was about to start about who should get the upstairs, and whether Rex or Eric would get the captain’s office while Meg took the engineer’s bed. Abeer sat up straight, but her face told Meg she was worried for her safety. Meg cleared her throat and added to her last statement.
“Unless you feel like you can fight, you should go upstairs. If you do think you can fight, we’ll get you a full turnout suit and an axe.”
“Um, Meg,” Rex said, coming back from where he’d been standing by the shutter doors. “It looks like somebody’s out there now. I don’t think it’s—I mean, it’s more survivors. I think.”
“He thinks,” the punk girl said. “Or he knows? We’re not letting anyone in here.”
“We’re doing what it takes to stay alive and to help anyone we can,” Meg said, silencing the blue haired girl with a look.
“Show me, Rex.”
Meg followed the man’s heavy tread as he went down the floor to the shutters. He stood on tip toe and peered out, coming back down with a nod of his head.
“Yep. Looks like two of ours. They’re at the engine.”
Meg went up on the shutter and looked outside. The sky was overcast and the skyscrapers threw deeper shadows onto the street in front of the house. But Meg could pick out the two firefighters over by the crashed engine. They wore full turnout gear and were digging through materials that had spilled from the truck when it slammed into the parked car. One of them came up with a Nomex mask and quickly strapped it on.
“They’re okay,” Meg said. “We have to get them inside. Now!”
— 16 —
Sunnyside, Queens
Jed’s shots went into the sidewalk, missing the monster completely. It skittered to its right and leaped up on the wall of the house. Jed put his back against the van and held his weapon up. Even thought it was empty, it was the only thing between him and death.
The monster stared at Jed with those narrow yellow cat eyes. It hissed at him through its ugly-ass sucker mouth and tensed like it would jump for the van behind him. Jed almost took a hand off his weapon to reach for his ammo pouch. But the creature kept flicking its tongue around its puffy lips as it watched him. He couldn’t risk changing magazines now. He could try for the Glock on his hip, but he knew if he moved his hands off the rifle, it would jump. It kept flicking its glare back and forth from Jed’s muzzle to the top of the van.
It knows the weapon is a threat. It knows what a gun can do.
Fine, so the monsters were smart. They knew a threat when they saw one. Jed had to hope they didn’t know how to count bullets, otherwise he was done. He kept his aim on the ugly beast’s face and waited for it to move. It did, but not in the direction he thought it would.
Jed lifted his aim, thinking the monster was going to jump for the van and get behind him. But it just lifted up and leaped forward, landing on the sidewalk right in front of Jed.
“Shit!” Jed screamed.
He backed up tighter against the van and slid along its length, trying to get some distance before the monster jumped at him again. It just sat there, though, staring at him, like it was toying with him.
Jed had to risk reloading. He reached a shaking hand to his ammo pouch and unclipped it. The monster still sat on the sidewalk staring at him.
Okay, so they don’t know what makes the gun go bang. That’s good.
Jed had the pouch open and was slipping a magazine out when he heard the clicking sound behind him. He spun around just as another one swiped at his head from the top of the van.
A clawed hand went by Jed’s face so close he could smell the stink of rotting fruit coming off its skin. He lifted his rifle up to block the next hand that came for him. He felt the thing strike out at his weapon and grab hold of it. Then he heard the clicking and popping of joints from the one on the sidewalk behind him. It was closing in fast. Jed almost twisted his own neck trying to get a look at it, but he had to keep an eye on the one on the van. It had his weapon held tight.
Jed pulled back on the M16, then felt the rifle yanked out of his grip, leaving him empty-handed. He tumbled against the van, nearly fell over his own feet, but just got away from the grabbing hands behind him. He snapped a hand at the holster on his hip and tugged on the Glock. He had it halfway out, but fumbled it when something caught his LBE and yanked. He was hauled backward and thrown up against the van so hard he lost his breath. The Glock clattered to the sidewalk and under the van.
Jed put a hand out and closed his eyes, knowing it was hopeless. He was fucked.
“Get down!” someone shouted from just down the street. Gunfire popped out and Jed heard bullets zipping by him. He waited, opening his eyes and staring at the one in front of him, hoping it would go down. But the rounds all missed. The monster looked like it was dancing as it roved back and forth across the sidewalk, flicking its head in the direction of the shooter and then looking back at Jed.
More gunfire came, and still missed. Chips of concrete flicked up against the van and peppered Jed’s legs. The monsters split up. Jed heard the one on the van jump away, throwing Jed’s rifle into the street as it did. The plastic clatter made his heart sink. He could go for the Glock, but it was under the van, and the one on the sidewalk stayed close, stalking him from just a foot away, like a cat around a mouse. He didn’t dare drop to all fours and try to fish the gun out of the gutter.
Jed felt the warm trickle of piss down his leg, and the monster seemed to sense it. It stopped and lifted its nose, sniffing at the air and coming closer. Jed could smell its funky skin, like moldy fruit all warm and thick. It shrieked at him, spattering his boots with saliva.
Then its head vanished in a spray of blood and bone as the pa-pa-pop of a three-round burst echoed in Jed’s ears.
He stayed up against the van, half crying and half ready to just fall to his knees and give the fuck up.
I didn’t sign up for this. Didn’t sign up for none of this.
He wasn’t even in the Marines anymore; and if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to take the fight to monsters.
Fucking nuke ’em, just burn ’em out.
“Gotta just burn ’em out,” he said through his sobs and tears.
“What’s your name?” someone asked from a few feet away. “You hit? Did it get you?”
Jed kept mumbling about burning the things up, talking into his shirt. But whoever was yelling at him clearly didn’t want to wait around.
“Hey, answer me or I’ma light you up to be safe.”
“No!” Jed shouted, toppling backward as he moved from where he’d squatted down by the van. He slid along it again and ended up on his ass next to the body of the thing that had been about to eat his face off. A Marine with a weapon raised was coming toward him from a little way down the sidewalk. Jed could see the body of the other monster behind the man.
“Stay back from the body!” the Marine yelled at Jed. “Do no
t make contact with the infected.”
Jed stopped moving and looked behind him. He’d nearly put his hand in the puddle of blood leaking out of the thing’s half-gone head. He looked around the street and up at the rooftops. He didn’t see any of the monsters, and the gunfire and shrieking seemed to be tapering off nearby. Jed looked back at the Marine in front of him. He was a white guy, a little younger than Jed, and he had an M16 aimed at Jed’s chest. The dude’s rank wasn’t visible, so Jed just went with what felt right.
“I’m Welch. Private Welch. Was with the—” he tried to remember the unit he’d been assigned to by the First Sergeant back on the ball fields.
“You Army?” the Marine asked.
“Marines. I was—I’m out. Since Iraq. But the—Civil Affairs guys,” he said, remembering the unit name finally. “They set me up with some gear. Told me I could keep my Glock.” Jed made to reach under the van, but the Marine looked like he was ready to shoot him. Jed kept his hand away from the gun.
“What’re you doing here?” the Marine asked him. “Where’s your unit?”
“On the boulevard. They—We gotta go, man. There’s a ton of them things. Comin’ outta the apartments.” Jed jerked his head in the direction of Queens Boulevard.
The Marine lowered his rifle and offered a hand to help Jed up.
“You seem all right. My name’s Rainey. Go on get your weapon. We’ll get back to my platoon.”
Jed looked at Rainey as the Marine stared off down the street. He seemed like he was keeping watch, but something in his face told Jed he had more on his mind.
“Your platoon’s around here?” Jed asked.
“Yeah. What’s left of ’em,” Rainey said. “Let’s go, Welch. It’s quiet now. Won’t stay that way for long.”
Jed got up; he tried to cover the stain of piss on his crotch. Rainey didn’t notice, or didn’t say anything if he did. He turned and started away from the area, heading out at a trot. Jed went to grab the Glock, but he stopped short. Blood from the dead monster’s head drained down into the gutter off the edge of the sidewalk, covering the gun.