“I have an idea,” Hawk said. “At the very least it should give us time. We take these sheets and turn them into a long piece of rope. We hang it over the side.”
“How are we supposed to get past those creatures down there?” Cheryl said.
“You don’t,” Hawk said. “Not yet.”
Cheryl’s eyes narrowed. “I see.”
“I’ll go down first and create a distraction on the other side of the street. Then you can climb down one by one and we can meet up over there. At the top of the next hill.”
“What makes you think that hill will be any better than this cozy little rooftop we’re on right now?”
“The zombies are banging on the door—”
“At least we have a door here. Out on the street, we’ll be completely exposed.”
“The undead had to come from somewhere. They didn’t magically appear. They were drawn to this location by the gunshots, emptying other parts of the city and making them safer. We could enter their wake and head to the soldiers themselves. It will be difficult but possible. If we stay here, we’re playing a waiting game. They’re going to break down that door eventually.”
Cheryl turned to peer at the three brave men bracing it. “How do you know there won’t be more hordes on the other side of that hill?”
“I don’t. I can only tell you there aren’t any there right now.”
Cheryl puffed out her cheeks and shook her head. “Are you sure your friend can convince the soldiers to believe her?”
“Yes. But if she doesn’t then we’ll go to them. Either way, we’re taking action. That’s got to be better than sitting here, awaiting our fate, doesn’t it?”
Cheryl looked up at him, icy blue eyes burning a hole into his skull. “Are you sure you can do this?”
Are you sure you won’t run away and leave us here? That was her real question.
“I’ll come back,” Hawk said. “We’ll be out of here before you know it.”
His reassuring smile didn’t have the effect he’d hoped, and Cheryl merely turned away and approached the hostages.
* * *
The hostages made short work of the blankets and sheets, tying them together with knots a young lad had learned just two weeks previously at a Boy Scout meeting. It was the strongest knot known to man, he said, and with how hard Hawk yanked on it to test it, he believed him.
The door groaned belligerently beneath the undead onslaught, dented and rocking in its rusty stirrup half an inch at a time. More fists pounded on it, a rising army of the undead at their backs. Hawk tied one end of the makeshift rope to a washing prop and tugged on it hard. He checked over the side and dropped the sheet. The banging on the door was already getting the attention of the undead, who filed into the house, pushing and shoving each other over who went in next. Cheryl arranged the hostages along the rope and they grabbed hold of it as a safety mechanism.
“Good luck,” she said.
Hawk saluted and edged over the side. It gave slightly beneath him, a sharp tug and the sheet creaked under his weight, but it held. He reached the bottom and peered up at the rooftop and waved his arm. Cheryl waved back, and the rope raised off the ground and stopped halfway up the second floor. No chance an undead might get a grip on it.
Hawk turned and was immediately faced with a wall of stinking undead. Three growled and snorted in his face. Lumps of vomit slipped from between a creature’s torn cheeks and dusted his jacket. Hawk turned away from them, but they slipped in around him, surrounding him, jaws clacking in cracked skulls, pressing so hard and tight against him that his feet left the ground.
He was trapped. There were too many and he couldn’t move. A good thing he didn’t need to breathe or it would have been crushed out of him already.
Smash.
He struggled to release his arms, both pinned by his side. He got one arm free, then the other. The horde shifted their weight and the entire flock headed deeper into the alley.
It was the wrong direction.
Hawk reached for the corner, the only place with decent purchase. He gripped it hard, but as the creatures pulled away, they took him with them, a flood of groaning undead.
“Hawk!” Cheryl bellowed. “Hawk! No!”
He was their only chance of escape, and he was being swept away on a wave of undead. There was no other way out for them. He couldn’t let them down. He just couldn’t. He scrambled for the only weapon at his disposal. The only one that might work.
He embraced the pain and a bubble of blood burst from his nose, splattering over the head of a thin-haired undead. The thing that had always seemed a curse, that would doom him one day, might well be his only salvation. He grasped at it with the weak tendrils of his flailing mind and wrapped them around the pain around his right eye and funneled it into his mind. He gathered the multitude of bright blinking stars around him, swirling like an invisible galaxy, and screamed as he pushed out, forcing the undead away from him.
And just like that, darkness swallowed him whole.
14.
TOMMY
Fredo was silent in the back of the car—they all were after witnessing Albert’s trick. The boy was exhausted and lay curled around one of Emin’s legs. Jimmy sat cross-legged on the other side watching him. He’d spent half an hour trying to have a conversation with the boy but no matter what he spoke about or what he asked Fredo, he never answered him. He seemed more interested in sleeping than making a new friend.
“Is he going to be okay?” Jimmy said.
“He’ll be fine,” Emin said, stroking the boy’s greasy hair and helping him to sleep.
“Why doesn’t he talk?”
“Maybe he has nothing to say. Or, more likely, he has a lot to think about. The past few days have been very tough on him. The sooner we get him somewhere safe, the better.”
In the front seat, Albert shut his eyes and let the wind blast his face as he enjoyed the sweet aroma of the endless fields of flowers on either side. Remarkably relaxed with Tommy’s concern over what he’d recently witnessed. Nothing short of a miracle.
Ahead lay the town of Elgin, a tiny stopover blot on the map. Bodies lined the streets and cars sat abandoned on either side of the road. Smashed shop windows and produce trampled underfoot, empty shelves and missing products.
Being undead, Tommy and the others never had to remember to eat, so it was a surprise to them when they heard Albert’s stomach rumble. He placed a hand over it as if that would solve his problem. “Sorry.”
“No need to be sorry,” Tommy said. “It’s about time we took a break anyway.”
He pulled in front of a store that had the hallmarks of once being a bakery and climbed out of the car. His legs were a little stiff, but he didn’t bother to stretch them. He entered the bakery and peered at what remained. Most of the items had been tossed onto the floor. Some were covered with a liquid that closely resembled strawberry jam. On top of the highest shelf, he spotted something that’d been missed.
“Albert, come in here a minute,” Tommy said.
Albert joined him and a big beaming smile lit up his face. “This is what they call a bakery, isn’t it?”
“It is. Or was. There are some bakery products up there on the top shelf. I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to touch anything you’re going to put in your mouth.” He moved to the counter, reached in behind it, and picked up a step ladder. He brought it over to the shelving unit and held it while Albert climbed the steps to the top. He brought the items down on a tray.
“I would give anything for a real cup of coffee,” he said.
There was no insistence that Tommy make it for him, and as that was the case, Tommy didn’t mind doing it.
Tommy moved behind the counter as Albert tucked into his lunch. “This is delicious. What is it?”
“A chicken pie by the look of it. I think you have a steak pie too.”
Another crunching sound. “Ah yes. That’s right. I think I prefer the chicken.”
To
mmy turned on the machines and got to work making coffee.
“You know how to use those machines?” Albert said. “You’re full of surprises.”
“I had no choice. When I was a kid, I worked in a coffee shop to earn a little pocket money. If I didn’t, the girls wouldn’t hang out with me. What kind of coffee do you want?”
“Surprise me.”
“A large latte it is then,” Tommy said. “They’re just about the easiest coffee to make, besides an Americano.” While Tommy was at it, he made a couple more cups, and a small one, heavy on the milk, for Jimmy.
Once he was done, he carried the cups to the table and handed one to Albert. He nodded his thanks.
“Sugar and cinnamon powder are over there.”
Tommy handed the other cups to the rest of the team outside, along with a pair of doughnuts he’d found still in the oven. It was nice not to be cooped up in a car. Tommy returned to the bakery.
“How much farther do we have to go?” Albert said.
“A couple more hours,” Tommy said. “Why? Desperate to get away from us?”
Albert chuckled and brushed off his hands. “I’m quite enjoying our trip. It’s not every day I get to go outside. What will you do after all this? After we get rid of the zombies.”
The walls were sunny yellow with the shelves and tables a pleasant shade of navy blue. It reminded Tommy of a playschool. It was nice. It might be good to run something like this after the apocalypse was over, he thought. Although he’d have to make sure to steer well clear of the food. And the coffee. And the customers. Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all.
“If we get rid of the zombies, I’ll pick up pretty much where I left off.”
“And where’s that?”
Tommy didn’t know. Right before all this happened, he’d asked Sam to marry him. He didn’t know where she was, whether she was even still alive, but he knew he still wanted to be with her. But did she still want to be with him? And what kind of life could they have together?
Albert must have noticed the look in Tommy’s eye as next, he said: “Sorry, I have a history of asking the wrong questions.”
Tommy wasn’t sure how to answer. “It’s difficult to know what’ll happen. I know what I want to happen, but I don’t know what will.”
“Do any of us know what will happen? I always got the feeling from the people working around me that everyone operates on the edge of their pants. No one knows what they’re doing or where they’re going. Everyone is playing it by ear, hoping no one finds out they don’t know what they’re doing.”
Tommy eased into a seat opposite him. “You sound like you’ve known a lot of people.”
“No, not really. I spent most of my time in that underground room. I got to know some of the scientists well, but I don’t feel like they ever really got to know me. The real me, I mean.”
“You must have made a lot of friends.”
“It’s hard to make friends when there’s an obvious divide. One the subject, the other the observer. It immediately hands power to one person over the other. If I didn’t do something they wished, they weren’t happy with me, whether they were my friend or not.”
Tommy looked at Albert in an entirely new light. He’d never thought of him as a freak before. Perhaps he belonged with the Death Squad more than he thought. “It’s horrible, being the subject of study.”
“Nobody’s life is perfect.”
“But your life was less perfect than most.”
“I don’t know. I was very lucky in some ways. No real trouble or strife.”
“No real life either.”
“There is that. Did you know, I grew up somewhere around here?”
“Would you like to see your old farm again?”
“Actually, no I don’t. For a long time, I thought I did. I dreamed about it. But now I’m here, I don’t think I need to see it again.”
“Sounds like some of my pessimism is rubbing off on you.”
Albert grinned but it was filled with sadness. “It’s not your fault. I would just prefer to remember it the way I recall, as a beautiful place full of life and energy. The truth, it seems, is never quite as perfect. I don’t suppose that makes much sense to you.”
“No,” Tommy said. “It makes perfect sense. The future’s that way. It’s always brighter before we reach it. Not that the future looks very bright these days. All hope is gone. The future has been taken from us.”
“You’re talking about the virus?”
“People always thought they were indestructible. Death was something we didn’t like to think about, so we ignored it and hoped it would never visit us—all the while knowing one day it would. Now it stalks us every day in the streets. We’re forced to confront it because it will try to kill us if it can.”
“I didn’t realize death was so scary to people. But now you mention it, none of the scientists thought about it much either. They did occasionally when one of their loved ones passed, but otherwise, they spent most of their time thinking about inconsequential things: What they were going to have for lunch, how they were going to speak to someone after an argument. They didn’t think about death often.”
It was only then Tommy picked up on the words Albert kept using over and over: They thought. How could he possibly know what they were thinking? Unless he could see their thoughts.
Tommy found he was less surprised than he expected. After all, how else could Albert have known about those people in the basement? How else could he have known what the fat old man had done to the infected family members?
Albert knew people because he could look inside their heads. But not theirs, not the Death Squad. They were empty vessels to him; a book without letters. It would be easier to read the sky.
Albert downed the last of his coffee and got to his feet. “Thank you for the coffee. It was delicious.”
“Would you like another cup?”
“I’d better not. It’s a natural stimulant, and when we get to Austin, I’m going to need all the focus I can get.”
* * *
Back in the car, Tommy continued the drive west. Already, the fields were shrinking and the tall grey structures of high-rise buildings were taking over. The tension in the car was palpable.
“You don’t need to worry,” Albert said. “None of you do. My time here is short.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Guy said. “You’re sick?”
“Far from it. We’re all flowers, flailing in the wind. We all live and die under the same sun.”
Tommy stared at the man. “Can’t you talk like a normal human being? What does that even mean?”
“And what is a normal human being? Someone who agrees with you?”
“Someone who answers a question when they’re asked. That’s normal.”
“Is it? People rarely say what they mean to say. Often, they don’t know what they’re saying at all and speak only because they feel they should, to fill a gap or appease someone else, or make someone else—or themselves—feel good.”
“That might be true, but there are times when we need to be honest, open and clear.”
“Is this one of those times?”
“Yes,” Tommy said.
Albert looked over at Tommy at the steering wheel and Emin and Guy in the back. “Are you sure you want to know? Life is much easier when you don’t know the truth.”
The wind ruffled his long flimsy white hair and dusted his deep wrinkles with dust.
“It’s a special ability you people have, isn’t it?” Guy said. “Should I even refer to you as a person? Apologies if I caused offense.”
“None taken,” Albert said, making a face that said he didn’t quite understand what Guy was going on about.
“So, it’s true?”
“What’s true?”
“You have special abilities?”
“Special ability. Singular.”
Guy swallowed in a throat that was dry as a bone. “You know things about us? How?
”
“A lifetime of studies and research and still no one is any closer to answering that question.”
“Then how do you control it?”
“How do you control your nose or your eyes or your ears? They just work, taking in information that your brain processes.”
“But you have a sense the rest of us don’t?”
“That’s the best way I can explain it.”
Guy leaned forward. “Can you teach me?”
“Unless you’ve been born with whatever it is I have, that’s unlikely.”
“One last question—for now.” Guy licked his lips. “Which planet are you from?”
“Excuse me?”
“Which planet. In the solar system. Or maybe you’re from further away?”
Albert turned from Guy’s doe-eyed expression and looked at the others. “Do you think I came from another planet?”
“No,” Tommy said at the same time Guy said an emphatic “Yes.”
Albert studied them a moment, the roar of the motor’s engine performing as their backing track. He smiled, covered his mouth with his hand, and then started laughing. He couldn’t hold back and roared with laughter. He woke the Fredo kid, who curled tighter around Emin’s leg.
“Sorry,” he said. “I’m sorry. I just. . . never thought someone would think I’m an extraterrestrial. I’m human, like you. Well, not exactly like you. Even you have a special ability now.”
Guy curled his lip. “It’s not the same.”
“A good thing too. If we were all the same, life would be very boring.”
Tommy couldn’t shake the image of Albert creeping down the stairs into the basement and finding the little boy he knew would be there. “So how does it work? Do you hear their thoughts? Do you see images?”
“Both those things, but not always at the same time. Every human mind works differently, so my mind reads them in different ways.”
“This is what they were researching back at the secret base?” Tommy said. “Your ability to read minds?”
“They even developed special helmets to protect themselves from me. Of course, they didn’t work. Still, it made them happy.”
Emin shook her head. “This is unreal.”
Death Squad (Book 4): Zombie World Page 13