The Drumhead

by Richard Correll

There must have been a thousand of them. They were a tight pack of wolves that seemed oblivious to anything but what they followed. When he heard them he was sure he would be lost in the rolling thunder of so many voices at once. Another muzzle flash corrected her position for him in the dark. A part of Brett felt he could reach out and touch her one more time.

  The reality told otherwise. She can’t turn toward you. If she does they follow. Yes, the doors at Macy’s are locked but nothing can hold back so many of them. They would press through the glass like they did at City Hall and it would all be over. No, you can’t reach out and touch her. She might as well be a million miles away.

  You could go to her. ……….

  How? You think you can fight your way there? His thoughts were interrupted by primal fear. He slowly turned around and faced them.

  All of them.

  They had caught up in the few seconds he had been staring at Maggie. It struck him in a detached way how impossible it all seemed and yet what perfect sense it all made once it was all happening. He put himself into perspective as they moved closer. You are the prey and while you were distracted the pack has been hunting you. The faces could have been people he had passed by a hundred times while walking these streets. A woman with long, jet black hair that shaded her eyes lurched forward on a broken leg. Her matching black lipstick seemed at home in her new existence. A boy of six who had impossibly wide eyes and teeth that seemed to move from side to side. A man with a freakishly long face and sunken eyes followed his every move. His long arms stretched to the limit to satiate his burning hunger.

  We’re all prey now. He stepped back and brought his M16A3 up to his shoulder. He carefully prepared a firing arc in his mind that would spray them at shoulder length. It would take down most of them, enough of them for his escape, anyway. Brett gritted his teeth and squeezed the trigger.

  Click……….

  There was a disbelief moment between them for a milli-second. The woman with jet black hair cocked her head briefly. The man with the long face suddenly had his sunken eyes come to life like a pilot light in a furnace. It didn’t matter how they knew. But they did. They’ve got you……….

  Bret started to run across the street parallel between his two destinations. He was hoping to break up the tightness of the pack and find a hole to squeeze through. It was the right thing to do for an entirely different reason.

  “Fire!”

  They looked like fireflies exploding in the dark. A half dozen muzzle flashes on top of the bus suddenly appeared now he was out of the line of fire. The man with the long face stopped for a second to look at his left arm that was now a bloody stump with the rest of his appendage lying on the street, the fingers still clutching forward.

  The woman with jet black hair was hit multiple times in the back of her head. The exit wounds made her face disappear in a huge, murky red explosion. The boy had a line of black holes stitch themselves up his back before the top of his head was clipped off and he fell like a scarecrow. The arms were stiff and at his sides. The facial expression a bizarre mock up of who he used to be.

  “Come back across the street, sir!” It sounded like Esterhaus. Brett turned away from an elderly woman with straggles of grey hair hiding her torn clothes. Her facial expression did not move. It was like she was frozen in time. A second later she disappeared in a hail of steel that shattered store windows and sent a few more silhouettes in the dark crashing to the ground. A man in an EMS suit watched him cross the street with a look of disbelief. He had a huge bite wound on his shoulder and his pale skin almost shimmered in the streetlights. He blinked once and fell forward with a dollar sized hole in the back of his head. Brett took a second to turn and search anxiously for Maggie.

  She was gone……..

  He was gone. Maggie took a second and looked toward Macy’s. She swore Brett was there. Maybe it was her imagination. Maybe it was instinct. No, Maggie swore she heard his voice call her name. Plus, there was something else. Something deep down inside that seemed to come to life when she crossed State Street. She could feel him. He was there. There was also a shadow that she swore was just a block or two up the street that seemed to stand out among the ogre like stick figures that moved with their own staccato rhythm. This one was different. For the brief seconds he was visible, he moved faster. His shadow outlined against their wooden, almost arthritic silhouettes. Did he wave? Did he really call her name? Maggie could swear it. She could feel it.

  It came at her from behind. The thing was able to get close because of his dark suit and hat. Maggie turned to find the darkness suddenly unfold a set of teeth that opened and glistened wetly at the smell of her skin. She squeezed the trigger out of reflex. The first shells whistled by while the third or fourth found their mark and the teeth tilted skywards with a spasm. He crashed to the ground with the skull making contact with the pavement first. It was an almost hollow noise of an egg hitting the floor. It was motionless.

  Maggie was now ahead of the following pack and took a second to look at the body. Her eyes widened and she pilfered his pockets and found what she was looking for. Maggie smiled grimly for a second as she held her prize up like a talisman or secret potion. Now, she felt a sudden thrill. I’ve got a place to go. Maggie scurried up Lake Street. But just once more she had to pause and try and pierce the darkness. Please, let me see him just for a second.

  He was gone.

  A thunderclap and storm of light shocked her world. A rolling wave of dust and debris followed half a minute later. The wolves at her heels paused. Visually, their prey had disappeared into the man made darkness. They tested the air to reacquire the scent and came up with grit, dust and rubble that camouflaged Maggie’s retreat. Her footsteps in the new found fog went practically unfollowed.

  “Fuck!” Brett spat the word uncontrollably as the light startled him into a second of shock. Through a crevice of night between the silhouettes of Chicago’s buildings he saw the top ten floors of the Daley Center vanish into an expanding cloud of lightening and debris. The quake of thunder that followed seemed to freeze time. The things stopped and slowly regarded a gathering cloud of darkness heading in their direction. The flashpoints of light above the bus paused in surprise. The cloud approached him like a biblical curse, unstoppable and unimaginable in size. His blood began to flow with the instinct of survival.

  Go! Go now!

  As he sprinted toward the bus he elbowed aside a man in a white shirt. The eyes locked on him with a ravenous rage and then they both plunged into darkness as the cloud of debris swallowed them. The man disappeared into the swarm of grit. Brett closed his mouth and lowered his shoulder into a thin specter that suddenly appeared out of the dirty fog. It collapsed and disappeared beneath his feet.

  Am I even going the right way? Brett had that feeling in his lungs. It starts as discomfort and grows into panic. He could feel his eyes growing wider. Air, I need air. He was choking in a sea of devastation as he stumbled forward. A spasm in his lungs erupted out of his mouth as a convulsive cough. He passed two small figures on his right. They may have been children or elderly. Both had their faces slightly tilted upwards and slowly turning to find what they had lost just a few seconds before. They were oblivious to the dust and sand that had caked their eyes shut. Their faces were now two sand blasted masks in the storm.

  Thump!

  He was suddenly on the ground and staring up at a large profile that blocked his way. A rush of adrenalin forced him back on his feet. Brett turned quickly around and then looked up, the outline of a figure stood above the edifice.

  “He’s over here!” It was Bradley’s high pitched almost-falsetto. Only then did it occur to Symons he had just run into the windshield of the bus. Bradley’s figure waved to his right and Brett’s left. “Sir, come around to the side of the bus. We’ll cover you!”

  Firecrackers started to pop off in the darkness as fingers of light appeared above the bus. Brett could make out other shapes in the fog of residue from the Daley Cente
r. A second figure seemed to glance his way before returning his concentration at the darkness around them.

  “C’mon, Sir!” Brett swore it was Moshood. “They’re startin’ to move again!”

  An animal cry precluded a pair of clutching hands on his helmet. The nails raked over the smooth surface, looking for a place to burrow in and pull him closer. Brett slapped the two appendages aside and turned to watch a form stumble past him and collide with the front of the bus. He needed no further encouragement now. With his back to the bus he turned to his left, found the wheels of the sideways bus, he slipped the safety on his M16A3 and held it up high stock first. He found a foothold and lifted himself up. A second later, hands from above gripped the stock of his weapon and started hauling him up. He sensed something close by and heard a firecracker report and something fly past him in the foggy grit.

  “Got ‘em!” Someone exalted and something like cold tree branches brushed against his leg as they slid toward the pavement. Brett’s elbow and arms finally were gripped by shadows that began to take on substance as they became closer. What was once a silhouette now had features he could recognize.

  “We gotcha, sir.” Esterhaus was nearby but still unseen as Brett’s feet finally found the top of the bus. He fell to his knees and began to wheeze. He slowly felt himself unfocus and begin to cough as tears automatically filled his eyes to clear out the grit. He spat out wads of spit on to the shadows below and heaved his lungs to try and breathe. No luck. Every breath he took in helped more dust into his lungs.

  “Get him inside.” Someone ordered. Pinder?

  “Who the hell would aim a cruise missile at the Daley Building?” Moshood was probably a couple of feet away.

  “Somebody went out in style.” Esterhaus replied distantly. Symons thought of the battle they had seen earlier. The hands pressing against the window and shattering it. The flecks of blood that gave the Picasso in the square at Daley a touch of mephisto. The last survivors, crying with fear and running upwards floor after floor, knowing an end was coming. A cell phone and a call to command with one last plea. Is this really how it ends?

  A slow and careful procession began through the window on the second floor of Macy’s. It had started with four helmeted men forming a parameter in the honeycomb of small offices they had just invaded. A silent nod of the head produced more and more figures escaping the gritty air from outside for the darkness and occasional stabs of flashlight within.

  “Save your flashlight batteries.” Pinder finally spoke when he entered through the window.

  “Sir?”

  Pinder stepped over to the first hallway door he could find and felt around the wall. There was just enough light to make his search a brief one. He flicked the light switch. It was almost magical to some as the room became bathed in phosphorescence. For the now the shadows had retreated while the nightmares still wandered the streets.

  Brett ‘s breathing had slowly started to become normal. A surreal moment passed through him like he was in two places at once. He was seated in a plastic chair in the admin at Macy’s and he was outside. He saw himself jumping off the bus, waving frantically and calling out her name. He was so close to them, he could smell them, touch them. The hands, so cold.

  Why?

  It was like a trigger to see her again. Every memory he’d ever lived with Maggie was suddenly right there as they stood at the end of the world. Brett was suddenly at the place where he first met her. At The Beach Bar in Innisfil as she was watching the band with a cheap beer in her hand. Brett had seen her earlier and had noticed her give him the interested once over. This time, she turned her head slowly and let their eyes meet. She cocked her head coyly in his direction. She started walking slowly toward him.

  “Please understand.” Maggie with eyes moist and pleading. “I need you to understand.”

  Maggie, breaking things off to pursue a career. Yes, of course he understood. Yes, it was fine. He surrendered to reality. He boarded a bus back to the base, numb and not sure what to feel. Yes, it would be bad to date someone while you were on your way. Yes, I know this is something you feel you were meant to do. Okay, yeah. Fine. No, I got your back, really I do.

  Do you love her? Of course you do. You have to. There you were chasing her in the dark like a moth after a flame. You’ve always done that. Always, from the moment you first saw her. Mom and dad said she was trouble but you still pushed on.

  “That is gonna be a hard horse to tame, son.” He could hear the western Canadian accent that he had lost when they moved to Texas. “Are you sure she’s worth it?” The tone of Dad’s voice betrayed he had already made his decision.

  What is it? What is it that draws people together? A primal intuition? I want you. A tacit sensation that this is what you desire to make yourself whole? I need you. Is it just raw passion wrapped up in the taste of their mouth, the arc of their body and the hunger they bring out in you for them and only them? I crave you. Perhaps it’s that feeling you get. That thrill when you discover what they are what you lack. What they lack is what you are. Symbiotic when skin touches skin, then, erotic after glow. I love you.

  “I need to see you for a minute.” It was Pinder squatting down in front of him. He then stood up and walked away. “Follow me.”

  “Yes, sir.” Symons nodded in a whisper and raised himself up to tag behind the Captain. You have this coming. It was an unpleasant reminder.

  As soon as they were in a private alcove with a closed door Pinder turned toward him and started. “Do I need to place you under arrest?”

  “No sir, you don’t.” Symons stood with his automatic rifle resting easily in his right hand. He noticed that Pinder’s voice was even and firm. He wasn’t trying to imitate Maggie’s style. Thank God for that, she’d have torn my head off by now. He dismissed the thought and concentrated on Pinder. “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “You almost got yourself killed.” Pinder’s face was a good four feet away from him. He wasn’t pulling the in-your-face shit most newbies tried. “Why?”

  “I….I thought,” Brett paused and then started again as he collected his thoughts. “I saw the Lieutenant, sir.”

  Pinder showed no emotion at the answer. He blinked once and then asked; “Did you see Voorhees and Chalmers?”

  “No, sir.” Symons answered with regret. He then spoke again after a beat. “They could have separated.”

  “Yeah,” Pinder nodded. He was clearly pissed but was keeping his voice low. “Why did you do it?”

  “Like I said, sir.” Symons kept his voice quiet and respectful. “I saw the Leau…….”

  “No, you saw Maggie.” Pinder interrupted. His bespectacled eyes narrowed like a hawk closing in for the kill. ‘You called her Maggie in the bus.”

  “Yes sir.” Damn it. Did I? He couldn’t remember.

  “How long have you two been together?” His right hand came up and stroked his chin absently.

  “We are not together, sir.” Symons consoled himself that he was at least telling the truth. He met Pinder’s eyes to try and prove his honesty.

  “Then when were you together?” Pinder stared back without the blink of an eye. It was the oddest feeling when you looked at the man. It like he was preparing to play another trump card while he listened to you. Brett decided to stay honest.

  “A little over a year ago, sir.”

  “Okay, then.” Pinder nodded and turned toward the wall for a second. While his back was to Symons he continued; “Do the people in this unit know about this?”

  “Yes sir, they do.” Symons looked at the floor for a minute and spoke honestly. “I don’t think it’s ever affected us as a unit.”

  “Until now.” Pinder slowly turned and pounced.

  “Yes sir, I’m sorry, sir.” Symons lowered his eyes. For a second he wished Maggie was here to rip his head off and be done with it. It wouldn’t feel quite this bad. It was like he was living and re-living the same mistakes. He always was the calm one, the in control one. Then, somethi
ng happens that sets him off to do something stupid. Damnit, am I ever gonna learn?

  “Sergeant, I asked you a question.” Pinder’s eyes were like surgical knives now. Slowly cutting away and peeling back his outer skin to get to the real person inside. It was eerie. “Can I rely on you?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  “How do I know that?” The knives cut deeper as they searched for an answer.

  “Because Maggie wanted me to look after you.” Brett felt like he was turning the tables in the conversation. All he was doing was reminding him of the truth. It was enough of a personal consolation that he ran with it.”I won’t let her down, sir.”

  Pinder’s response was a slow nod. It was like he was looking at the inner workings of Brett Symons and what made him tick. That is one hell of a torch you are carrying, Mr. Symons. Pinder thought about sharing the observation but decided it was pointless. Instead, he went for more information.

  So what is it with the Lieutenant?”