“Damn,” he whispered. “God damn.” Anderson slowly returned to the drivers’ seat and shifted the vehicle into drive with an ever so slightly shaking hand. The bus revved its’ motor and lurched forward and the figure that was clinging to the front of the bus was hit a second time. It disappeared from view with a final, defiant hiss with the other human nightmares falling behind.
At first, Anderson tried to avoid the figures that seemed bent on self destruction as they raised their hands and stepped forward to attack the bus. The slow passage of time began to numb him to the new reality. Maggie watched him keep the bus on an even keel as one after another of the slow moving automatons made contact with his bumper. His face was expressionless.
“How you doing?” Pinder asked.
“Man, you’re kiddin’ me asking a question like that, right?” Anderson didn’t take his eyes off the road as he shook his head. “What the fuck is this?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Pinder answered as Maggie listened. “You did okay back there.”
He nodded at Pinder briefly before continuing. “What the fuck are these things?”
“We have no idea.” Pinder shook his head as a large Hispanic woman made contact on the right side of the bus and was ground under the wheels,
“I mean look at this shit.” His words were intense but his voice was low. The volume sucked away by the shock of disbelief. “This is crazy. Do you at least know how to kill them?”
“A gun shot or hard blow to the head, sir.” Maggie chimed in keeping her voice firm. He needed to know everything would be alright. She would at least try and sound like she had it under control.
“That’s what the lady on that report said, right?” Anderson fired back. Maggie’s vibe on him was good. He was coming back.
“It’s her sister,” Pinder nodded to Maggie.
Anderson finally let his eyes stray off the road and looked at Maggie. His mouth was a flat line. Clearly, he didn’t think what Pinder said was funny or the truth.
“We’re Scottish, sir.” Maggie explained. “It happens sometimes.”
“No shit?” he looked at her for another minute.
“No shit.” Maggie confirmed, although a part of her was still suspicious of the family explanation.
“Well,” he sighed and let his eyes return to the road. “This is just one crazy assed day.”
The living were few and far between as they continued their trek. As they passed a red brick building at Washington and Clinton a chair came hurtling through a window. A brown face appeared at the shattered opening screaming “Hey! Hey! “Before Maggie could say anything arms appeared out of the blackness of the room and encircled the man. He was pulled out of sight with a speed that held Maggie’s breathing in the back of her throat.
What are we getting into? She started to wonder.
Heading across the Washington Bridge Maggie could see bits and pieces of the Chicago skyline. There were smashed windows in the Chase Tower. Black, thick smoke that snaked skywards from a dozen small fires like tentacles traced a pattern throughout the Loop . Strangely, the sirens they heard earlier were now silent. At the other end of the bridge lay a pile of vehicles. They looked like discarded toys from a child’s tantrum.
“What the hell?” Symons whispered.
“Looks like somebody fucked up.” Anderson announced. “This is a swing bridge.”
“Swing bridge?” Pinder voiced the question that was on more than a few minds. “You mean like a drawbridge?”
“The bridge opens up to let boats pass.” Anderson explained with his eyes on the road. “You don’t see them very often anymore.”
“So all those cars were on the bridge and someone opened it?” Maggie was staring at the pile of vehicles that looked like discarded beer cans from a distance.
“Looks like it.” The bus carefully picked its way through the wreckage. Maggie saw a clear avenue right down the centre of the wreckage.
“Did someone actually push these vehicles off to the side after this happened?” She finally asked.
“Kind of looks like that,” Anderson nodded grimly. “They must have been in one hell of a hurry.”
Maggie knew what she was looking at. It was the residue of panic. She tried to imagine what it was like for the people on the bridge when it split open and began to rise. The elevation would go higher and higher. You knew how this would end and there was no way to back out. You just prayed someone would stop and reverse. Then, that feeling of weightlessness that you get just as the rollercoaster you’re on tops the rise and plunges downward. But, this time you were on no track. You would watch out the back of your window as you hurtled into other cars at the bottom that were already turning into twisted metal. Then, a bulldozer would push your twisted car aside so the panic could continue on its path. Did they even bother with the ones trapped inside? Maggie saw no vehicles that had been pried open with the jaws of life. No, they didn’t.
What are we getting into? She wondered again.
Figures meandered about the wreckage. They performed that slow, crippled ballet that was now all too familiar. They were keeping watch like modern vultures. Perhaps waiting for the ones inside the vehicles to rise and join them. As the bus approached a handful looked up from their dreamlike state. A few snarled while others stared at the approaching vehicle with a gruesome form of detached curiosity.
“Sir!” It was Voorhees addressing Pinder with alarm in her voice. “Someone’s alive in there, sir.”
“Where?” Pinder was up and moving toward Voorhees. “Show me.”
“Follow to where I am pointing, sir.” Her left hand was ram rod straight. The fingertip was barely touching the window. “It’s the Mercedes, sir.”
A white Mercedes lay at a forty five degree angle as it lay on the crushed frame of an unrecognizable vehicle. The backseat door had opened slightly to allow a hand to wave at them. Pinder could tell it belonged to a woman. The driver’s side door was closed. But, Pinder could see a large hand frantically waving as well. Is that a man? He wondered.
“We can get them out, sir.” Maggie offered from a few feet away.
“You got an idea?” Pinder turned toward her.
“I will in a second or two,”
“Whatever we do we had better do it fast, sir” Voorhees tapped Pinder on the shoulder and pointed out the rear window of their bus.
They must have been following them for a mile or two. It was a procession of ragged, bloody and lurching figures. The slow movement of the bus down the street had allowed them to stay close. They seemed to quicken their pace as the object of their hunger halted. Pinder’s mouth parted as his lips became dry. He looked at Maggie to make sure she was aware of them.
“Can I try, sir?” She asked. Her eyes were hard, unblinking.
“Go.” He whispered.
“Symons, Voorhees, Bradley. You’re with me.” Maggie headed toward the front of the bus and snagged her M16 A3 from its resting place on a seat. “Brenda, Sergeant, you will get those people out of that car. Private, you cover the direction in the front of the bus, I cover the rear.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Getting back on the bus, “ Maggie was talking slowly and intensely so there would be no mistakes “Its’ Voorhees and Symons with the people. Then Bradley and then me.”
“But ma’am…..” Bradley protested.
“Who’s in charge here, Private?” Maggie asked.
“You…… “ He paused and then corrected himself. “The Captain and then you, ma’am.”
“Nice recovery, private” She gave a crooked smile and snapped off her safety. “Let’s go.”
“Take out the back window, Mr. Esterhaus.” Pinder ordered as he heard the bus door sigh open and let Maggie out. “Machine gunner, lets provide cover fire.”
“Yes sir,” Moshood’s huge frame shouldered his machine gun and headed to the back of the bus as Esterhaus blew out the back window with three individual shots from his M16 A3. Moshood push
ed the weapon through the shattered aperture as a private with a case of ammunition arrived. Moshood extended his hand to the private and instantly received an ammunition belt that he inserted into the feed tray. They had done this so many times it was almost automatic. This time it was for real.
“Ready to fire, sir.” Moshood called out.
“Open fire,”
Maggie carefully aimed and fired at a figure that had turned around and was moving at her when she left the bus. His cheeks had been eaten away to expose the tongue and teeth. The nightmare face disappeared in an instant as a bullet snapped the head back at it crumpled to the ground. The heavy machine gun sounded like a large bed sheet was being ripped in half. The long bursts betrayed the
amount of targets Moshood was dealing with. Symons leaped up onto the wreckage, grunted and pried open the back door. Brenda was close behind as she reached into the car and helped the woman out. She had brown hair, a medium build and eyes that harbored a desperate look. As she got out of the backseat she jumped to the ground and stood waiting for her passenger.
“Be careful!” She screamed at the man coming out of the car. He was cradling something in a large comforter.
Brenda took his right elbow and Symons his left as they jumped together. As soon as they landed Brenda used her arms to push the woman toward the bus. The man and Symons right behind. Bradley took two steps back to cover the retreat and let out three quick bursts before turning toward Maggie who was scanning for fresh targets.
“Ma’am! It’s time! “ He had a voice that sounded like he was sixteen. The guys always teased him about it. “Let’s go, ma’am!” He then turned and ran up the stairs into the bus.
Maggie looked up and was alarmed at how many of the followers were still on their feet. Their bodies were pocked with hits from the heavy machine gun. They shambled through the metal storm as if they were walking through rain. Maggie turned and headed to the bus, satisfied that the mission was complete. She faced the bus and saw him.
Pinder was standing on the final step of the bus entrance with his sidearm pointed directly at Maggie. He had a terrible grimace on his face and his eyes were widening as she watched. You bastard, she thought. You were playing us all along. You were playing me all along.
You were sent here to kill me. It was her last thought before Pinder pulled the trigger.
She heard the bullet smack into something directly behind her and turned to watch a form collapse onto the already bloody pavement. Her world was in shock as she stared at something that had once worn a business suit lie splayed on the ground.
“Maggie!” Pinder was screaming. “C’mon!”
Maggie started to run and fired a burst to her right that struck a tall man in black jeans and a golf shirt so hard his head vanished in a crimson cloud. She was at the bus entrance in a dozen steps and the door hissed closed right behind her. Looking back, Maggie saw a woman’s gruesome claw-like hand had become lodged in the door when it closed. The owner of the appendage slammed her bloody face against the glass as she burned in a fire of hunger. The bus started to move and the woman began to stagger alongside the bus before tripping. Even as she was being dragged down the road, Maggie watched the hand opening and closing. It was desperate to get closer to its prey. When the bus had a
safe distance from the followers Joel hit the open lever and woman was freed from the door to roll under the large back wheels. A look at Joel’s face betrayed a mixture of shock and determination blended together like salt and pepper.
“Thank you, sir.” Maggie said breathlessly as she passed by Pinder on her way to the back of the bus. He nodded but seemed a bit curious about her behavior. He wasn’t alone. Why don’t I trust you? She wondered while traversing the narrow aisle.
Don’t you remember who his boss is? The answer came back. Besides, he’s hiding something.
“Corporal Moshood,” Maggie addressed the large black man who was helping the private check
the ammunition belts. “Thanks for the back up.”
“Not at all, ma’am.” He nodded to her seriously. “That was unbelievable.”
“Generals like to call that a target rich environment,” Maggie said with a sigh while her pulse was returning to normal. “Grunts like you and I say there was just one fuck of a lot of them.”
“Yes ma’am.” He nodded and paused for a minute. “But that’s’ not what I meant, ma’am.”
“Have a seat and speak your mind, Corporal.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat down onto the couch that was at the back of the bus. Maggie leaned back in a seat beside him and let him take his time while her feet dangled inches above the floor. Short people’s problems, the thought was quickly discarded.
“Ma’am, my aim with that thing is pretty good.” He began and nodded to the heavy machine gun resting beside him. He had a round face with serious, stern brown eyes.
“Your aim is very good, Corporal.” Maggie nodded seriously to him. “What’s the problem?”
“I swear,” he turned to Maggie with his eyes brimming with disbelief. It looked like he was reliving a nightmare over and over again. “No matter how many times I hit them they wouldn’t go down.” The intensity in his eyes drew Maggie in and Moshood shook his head in disbelief. “I was hitting them, ma’am.”
“I don’t doubt that,” her tone was even and calm.
“I hit one of them ten times,” his hands came up in front of him “I was firing right to left into them like you always do.”
Maggie nodded her head and listened carefully. Her attention was undivided. He deserved that.
“Every time I came back to his position he was up and walking again like nothing happened.” His hands rested on his thighs in disbelief. “I swear I hit him at least ten times.”
“This is a different kind of war,” She looked into his eyes seriously.
“How the hell do we beat those things, ma’am?” he blurted out in a whisper.
“By doing what we did today.” Maggie answered matter-of-factly. “Doing our jobs and taking no casualties.”
“Yes ma’am,” he looked down and nodded his head. Then he straightened up and looked at Maggie with renewed resilience. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“You bet.”
Maggie was making her way through the bus when she noticed Anderson turned the wheel, skirting around a large pack of them kneeling by a body. The victim’s legs were motionless and upper torso was thankfully hidden by the crouching things. This is how they feed. She swallowed hard and felt her stomach flinch. Bloodied hands occasionally pulled away large chunks of unrecognizable humanity. A large flat screen lay shattered nearby. She widened her gaze and saw smashed windows dotting the streets up and down Washington. The bus slowly drove over cameras, laptops and phones that lay scattered across the road like seashells on a beach. There were more bodies, many more bodies. All were surrounded by ravenous forms that dug deeply into their prey. Their fingers were searching for soft, internal organs to feast on.
You died for a TV set. Maggie shook her head at the slaughterhouse. Now that the window in the back of the bus had been blown out, it was obvious how loud the vehicle was. Chicago had chucked diesel and gas buses years ago. The new breed of transportation was far quieter. But in the deathly silence of Washington Street the noise was tumultuous. In the distance, automatic weapons sounded off sporadically. At least someone is putting up a fight, Maggie thought as she watched the mutilated bodies and faces consume their fill. As the bus drove by, the things paid them no mind. One lanky man with a blackened husk of a face stood as they passed, He was patiently consuming something that was probably inner organs. Blood dripped off his fingers to the pavement below. In some places, his business suit was still burning. The flames licked at his clothes and exposed skin, slowly consuming him as he fed.
They halted suddenly and Maggie instinctively made her way to the front of the bus. She spied Pinder in discussion with the driver and glancing at a street map. The scene out the front of
the vehicle was surreal. Large fires illuminated a dantesque scene of chaos a block away in Daley plaza. A huge crowd seemed to be pressing into the square toward the office tower. Raising her field glasses, Maggie could
make out the hands that clawed the air. The slow, hypnotic shuffle of so many that was backlit by flickering light. Scanning the scene, Maggie could make out muzzle flashes from The Richard J. Daley Centre in the upper floor. The Picasso sculpture in the square was coated with a fine mist of blood.
“Your opinion, Maggie?” Pinder finally asked after letting her survey the debacle.
Maggie sighed and lowered her binoculars sadly. She shook her head and said; “Sir, there is nothing we can do.”
“Nothing?”
“Sir, we can’t get close enough to attempt a rescue.” Her voice was tainted with regret. “If we tried, there are so many of them that they could probably overturn the bus.”
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