by Scott Lee
Shielding their eyes as they moved into the bright sunshine, they looked to their left, gasping at what they saw. The swarm that had chased them into the museum was overflowing around the sides of the building, drawn to the sound of the gunshots. Hundreds of zombies were just yards away, and they were all heading their way.
"Holy crap!" yelled Doug.
"Run!" yelled Connor.
Turning to their right, they took off across the parking lot in the direction of boathouse row. They had barely run 50 yards when they slid to a stop at the site of another swarm on the backside of the museum. For all they knew, it was the same swarm, but it didn't really matter. Either way they were screwed.
"What now?" said Diana, here eyes darting about for a way out.
"The wall!" exclaimed Connor.
Racing to a low stone wall that bordered the parking lot, they looked over the edge. About 9 feet below them was a green rooftop - an environmentally friendly roof that was covered in soil and vegetation.
"We have to jump," said Connor. "Hang over the edge and drop yourself down. Go!"
Looking over their shoulders, the zombie swarms were closing fast. Quickly the three tossed their weapons to the rooftop and swung themselves over the edge. Hanging for a second, they let go and dropped safely to the ground below. Grabbing their weapons, they ran to the edge of the roof as the first of the undead reached the wall. Looking down, their hearts sank. They were a full 20 feet up on top of a garage building, and there was no way they'd make the jump without severely injuring themselves.
Behind them, zombies began tumbling onto the roof in droves. Some snapped their necks, others crushed their skulls, and some broke their legs and began crawling. But all too many were able to get up and continue their pursuit. Within moments, dozens of zombies had plunged onto the rooftop, with more falling over every second.
Suddenly, Doug called out.
"Over there!"
Dashing to the far corner of the roof, they looked down at a large blue dumpster filled with bags of trash that was sitting about six feet from the corner of the building.
"We gotta jump!" yelled Connor. "You two go first. I'll be right behind you!"
Gauging the distance, Diana took a few steps back from the edge, took a deep breath, then ran and jumped. Flying through the air, she tossed her M48 to the pavement just before she landed in the middle of the dumpster, the trash bags breaking her fall. Scrambling to the far end of the container, she turned just in time to see Doug slam into the bags behind her, his sword sheathed and in his hand.
As Doug scrambled to join her, the two looked up, expecting to see Connor. They saw nothing. Seconds later, a zombie head rolled off the roof and a moment later Connor came soaring over the edge, the Twins still in hand. Landing in a seated position, he drove the machetes into the garbage at his sides, never letting go of them.
"Go!" he yelled.
Instantly the three were scrambling for the edge of the container. Connor tossed his machetes to the ground as he leapt from the dumpster, Doug and Diana hitting the ground a few feet away. Diana quickly retrieved her M48 as the three ran to the nearby roadway and surveyed their situation.
Behind them, dozens of zombies were beginning to plummet off of the garage roof, hitting the pavement with bone-crushing force. Worse yet, looking to their right they saw that a mass of undead was already making its way down Art Museum Drive from the bus drop off point. The swarm on the backside of the museum was larger than they thought.
"Move!" yelled Connor.
Dashing across the road, they ran along the metal railing, looking for a way out. After 50 feet, Connor stopped and began to climb over the railing.
"We can climb down those rocks," he yelled.
Climbing through the railing behind him, Doug and Diana followed Connor as he jumped from the low-tiered walls to the rocky outcrops below. Quickly but carefully, the three navigated their way down the rocks until they reached the ramped sidewalk below. Above them, zombie were attempting to follow as they climbed through the railing, and moments later, as the three ran from the ramp and down the nearby steps, zombies began plunging off the rocks behind them, hitting the ground with sickening thuds.
Ahead of them sat the once lovely South Garden, the grass now overgrown around the beautiful birch trees that dotted the landscaping. Brick pathways cut through the garden and along the faded white railing that bordered the river, and a once charming marble fountain lay empty and dry in the distance. Metal and wood park benches still stood along the paths, but no living soul had sat on them for quite some time.
The garden had undead, but not nearly the numbers they were seeing above. Wasting no time, they sprinted towards the Waterworks building, avoiding the zombies as much as possible. The three were exhausted and the weapons were now feeling heavy in their hands. As they ran, more zombies began to tumble from the cliff to their right. The undead had found the ramp that led to the garden, but upon seeing them below, they were turning and falling over the railing, plummeting the 30 feet to the ground. Most were too broken to get up, but a few did.
Racing past the fountain, they neared the historic Waterworks complex. The numbers of undead were beginning to increase as they neared the restaurant parking area, so they turned and headed for the wide, red brick walkway that led toward the large, Parthenon like gazebo. A fancy stone railing bordered the sidewalk on their right, and on the other side of the railing was a low swale. Both of these would give the three some added protection as they fled from the undead.
But despite the fewer numbers, this path was still teeming with zombies, the majority of which were young adults or children.
“Not again!” yelled Doug.
As with the zombies of Love Park, the kid zombies were wearing T-shirts of the same color, although this time they were red, with deeper stains of crimson. The children were, or had been, in the 11 to 13 year old age range, so it was far less traumatic to take them out when needed.
As they neared the tall, Doric columns of the giant gazebo, the area widened dramatically, giving them far more room to run. An identical white railing also bordered the wide sidewalk along the river’s edge, running the entire length of the complex. Going over this barrier meant plunging into the swift waters of the Schuylkill River.
Racing to the railing next to the river, they darted behind a long, low building on the other side of the gazebo as the zombies behind them began to gather, forming a large horde.
Ahead of them, the sidewalk narrowed and turned right as it passed between the low building and the Old Mill House. Reaching the turn, they skidded to a halt. Ten yards away, their path was blocked by a horde of 30 or more undead. Behind them, the numbers were even greater. They had only one way out.
The railing along the river appeared to stop right at the corner of the Mill House in front of them, but in reality the railing never actually stopped, it just continued on behind the building, forming a small enclosed patio, accented by four 12 foot columns. The corner of the railing met a few feet before the corner of the Mill House, so it was only a short distance to get to the patio. As the three climbed over the railing, the pry bar slipped from Doug’s hand and went splashing into the river below.
“Damn,” he said. “I liked that thing.”
“We’ll go to the hardware store and get you another when we get back,” said Connor. “Keep moving!”
Carefully shimmying the five feet along the edge, the trio climbed to the safety of the patio beyond just as the zombies reached the railing behind them, their outstretched arms straining to reach the three. Many of the undead plunged into the river below with the effort.
But safety was relative. On the other side of the patio was a large terrace, approximately 150’ long x 100’ wide. To get to the boat, they had to cross the terrace, and there were at least 30 zombies littering the area.
“This is it, guys. Syrinx is on the far side of those trees,” he said pointing beyond the terr
ace. “It’s the final sprint.”
“No way we fail now,” said Diana, a hardened determination in her voice.
“Let’s do it,” growled Doug.
“Run. Run hard. Don’t stop until you’re at the boat. We go home together,” said Connor.
And then they were off. Jumping the railing the three sprinted onto the terrace and towards the outstretched arms of the undead. Dodging every zombie they could, they fought only when they had to. Together the three raced through the undead, zigzagging through the flesh hungry zombies like star running backs on the football team. Sprinting across the terrace, the dead tried to claim them, but they failed.
Reaching the far end of the terrace, they dashed through the opening in the railing and onto the grass. More zombies awaited them there, but the three could not be stopped. Running along the stone wall that bordered the water, they neared the peninsula where Syrinx was docked. It was then that they realized it wasn’t a peninsula at all, but actually an island, separated from the mainland by a 12 foot wide canal that joined the small inlet near the boathouse with the river.
“We’re going to have to jump!” yelled Connor as they neared the woods.
“No!” yelled Diana. “There!” she said, pointing.
About 150 feet ahead, a section of dock had broken loose from the boathouse and wedged into the canal, providing a makeshift bridge to the small island.
Lungs burning, the exhausted threesome made one final dash for the dock section, knocking three more undead into the filthy water in the process. Reaching the floating bridge, they bounded across as zombies staggered across the overgrown lawn after them.
The soil on the island was muddy, but they were able to pass through it, and after a minute of ducking through branches and between trees, they finally made it. The boat, still covered in its camouflage netting, floated silently next to the dock.
“Please tell me you have the keys,” exclaimed Diana as she helped Doug pull the netting off of the craft.
“They’re still in the ignition,” smiled Doug.
“Good man!” exclaimed Connor.
Tossing the netting into the back, Doug untied the ropes as Connor and Diana jumped aboard. Leaping into the captain’s chair, Connor fired up the engine as Doug joined them.
“Hold on!” yelled Connor.
Grabbing a seat, Doug and Diana held on as Connor slammed the throttle down, sending a spray of water arcing through the air behind them and onto the zombies gathered at the waters edge.
Seconds later, the boat was racing up the Schuylkill River, with Doug standing defiantly in the back, his middle finger held high as the zombies faded in the distance.