by Brian Keene
"What," Haringa quipped, "does it have laser beam alarms that are still functioning or something?"
"The Center is equipped with security devices that you wouldn't believe," Baker responded, "but I've explained to the Colonel that most of them are now inactive."
"So then what does he need you for?" Martin asked.
"Schow believes we were designing and experimenting with new weapons for the military. He wants me to give him access to those."
Haringa sat up quickly. "Do you have access to stuff like that?"
"No."
"But you're playing along so that he doesn't kill your friend," Martin guessed. "What happens when we get there and he finds out, Professor Baker?"
"I don't intend to let him find out, and to be honest Reverend, we most likely won't make it that far. Not if Havenbrook is occupied by what I think it is."
Martin frowned. "What would that be?"
"Evil, gentlemen. Pure evil. It calls itself Ob and it would appear to be just another zombie. But it speaks with such authority and arrogance-almost as if it were smarter than the others. It whispered to me of things..." He trailed off, shaking his head, then continued. "I think he's a leader of some kind."
Jim had been silent while Baker spoke. Now he stirred and addressed the shaken man. "You're from Hellertown. That's close to my son. Hell, that's less than an hour away from him! How sure are you that they plan on leaving tomorrow morning?"
"I'm quite positive that is what they intend to do. Schow gave orders to that effect before I was brought back here. They are to start assembling before dawn."
Jim turned to Haringa. "Hellertown is about two hours away by car. How many people are we talking about here in this camp?"
"Counting both troops and civilians?" He paused a moment, wiping his smudged glasses on his dirty shirt. "I'd say somewhere around eight hundred."
Jim whistled softly. "That's a lot of people. How would they transport them all?"
"I don't know," the schoolteacher admitted. "They've made us walk in front of the convoys before, on smaller trips. Used people for bait.
Figured if there were any zombies in wait, they'd rush out and attack the easiest targets first."
"I can't see them doing that all the way to Hellertown," Jim said. "That would take days."
Baker removed his boots and began to massage his feet. "Schow seemed very eager. I can't see him rolling along at walking speed. He'll want to expedite things."
"They've got trucks," Haringa offered. "At least two dozen big rigs, all of them reinforced and adapted since the rising began, and lots of those big green National Guard trucks you see on the highways sometimes. Do you know what I mean? I'm not sure what they are called."
"The ones with the canvas tops that the troops sit in the back of?"
Martin asked.
"Yeah, those are the ones. Jeeps too, and all of those have been outfitted as well."
"What else do they have?" Jim grilled him.
"Humvees and Bradleys and a few tanks. The Humvees move just like a car, but I'm guessing the tanks are a little slower. They've got a helicopter. And I don't know how many civilian cars and trucks. Even a couple of motorcycles, though I doubt they'd take those. Too risky. Leaves the driver exposed."
Jim frowned. "Eight hundred. That's still a lot of people to move. It makes for a pretty big target."
"But there's safety in numbers too," Haringa countered, "and I've got a feeling the convoy will be better armed than the living dead."
"Don't be so sure," Jim told him. "These things can think, use guns, drive cars."
"We've seen them plan ambushes," Martin chimed in. "They calculate-they're more cunning than you think."
Baker thought back to Allentown. "I concur. I saw them hunting a young couple, the way we would hunt a deer. And if Ob is doing what I suspect he's doing, you can be assured he will have arrayed his forces in anticipation of this very thing."
"What is it you think he's doing?"
"Gathering them together. Building an army. During the brief time I had to study him, he demanded that I release him. He said he needed to 'summon his brethren.' I didn't understand his true intentions then. I thought he wanted to simply scare me, perhaps acquire help in escaping.
Now, I fear I know all too well what he really meant."
He paused to listen. The darkness around them was silent, save for a few snores and someone mumbling in his sleep.
Baker leaned in conspiratorially.
"I'm sure by now, that all of you realize the things walking around out there are not our loved ones. These creatures come from another place; a place outside our reality of being. Ob called it the Void. Perhaps its real name is Hell. I don't know. I beg your pardon, Reverend Martin, but I've never been a believer. I trusted science, not religion. But all that has changed now. I believe that demons do exist, and that this is what they are. Ob confirmed as much. He indicated that they wait in this other dimension, and as soon as the spark of life leaves the body, they take its place. They're like parasites, taking over a host and using the body for themselves. Our empty shells provide a vehicle of sorts for them."
"I would almost agree with you that they are demons, Professor," Martin said "for demons surely exist. But if these disembodied spirits inhabit our dead bodies, why is it that they eat human flesh? Why is it that the only way to kill them seems to be by destroying the brain?"
"I don't know why they eat," Baker admitted. "Perhaps they convert the flesh into some form of energy, just as we do when we eat. Or maybe they just do it to violate us further. They hate us very much, of this I am certain. As to the particular method of dispatching them, I've given that some thought. I think the brain is where they go. Think about it; all of our bodily and motor functions stem from the brain. Movement, speech, thoughts, instincts-voluntary and involuntary, it all starts up here." He tapped his head.
Martin rubbed at his chin. "So by destroying the brain, they become a spirit again, and have to find a new host body?"
"I don't know if it merely releases them or if it destroys them completely, but I hope it's the latter. If it merely inconveniences them for a period of time, then all life on this planet is doomed and our situation is hopeless."
"Why," Haringa asked, "are there that many of them?"
"Ob boasted that their number was 'more than the stars and more than infinity'."
Jim jumped as if he'd been shocked.
Martin placed a hand on his shoulder. "What is it?"
"I've been hearing it over and over the past week. More than infinity.
Nothing. It's just a game Danny and I used to play together. I'd say I loved him more than pepperoni pizza and he'd say he loved me more than Spider-Man, and so on and so on, until we'd finish with
we loved each other more than infinity."
The others said nothing and Jim's next words caught in his throat.
"It was how we used to say goodbye."
When the second shift of girls returned, the third shift didn't leave the gym. Instead, a meal of watery, brown soup and stale bread was served. Frankie picked at the stringy, unidentified bits of meat in her broth, and then wolfed it down in several quick gulps.
Now the meal was finished, and still no women had departed for the Meat Wagon. The gym was getting crowded and Frankie wondered if this was usual.
Gina, Aimee, and another woman, a blonde barfly type, walked over to where she sat.
"What's up?" Frankie asked.
"They've canceled all the other shifts tonight," Gina reported.
"Apparently, they want the men to get a full night's rest. Those not on duty have been ordered to their barracks."
"Why? What's going on?"
"This is Julie," Gina introduced the woman, "and this is Frankie, the woman who beat Paula."
"Wow," Julie beamed. "It's so cool to meet you! Great job with that. We all hated her."
"It was my pleasure, believe me."
"Tell Frankie what you told
me," Gina prompted.
"Well, there's this one Private who does it with me. He says that I'm his favorite and I think he's got kind of a crush on me. I don't mind.
He's gentle and he only lasts a few minutes. Anyway, he says the rumor is that the entire town is bugging out tomorrow."
"Bugging out?"
"Yeah, moving. They're going to move us all further north to some underground army base or something."
Frankie set her soup bowl down. "How the hell are they going to move all these people?"
"Most of us will probably ride in the backs of the rigs. That will suck cause we'll be packed in there like sardines, with no ventilation or anything. But my Private says he's gonna arrange it so I can ride in a HumVee with him and his friends."
Frankie grinned. "Sounds like a party. Think there's room for one more?"
"I can ask him tomorrow and find out," Julie said, "I don't think his friends would mind. You do understand what they'll expect from you though, right?"
Frankie stared soberly at her.
"Julie, I'm a professional."
The girl laughed, then shook her hand.
"You're all right, Frankie. I'm glad you took down Paula. I'll see you tomorrow. We'll have some fun!"
She walked away to join another group of women, adding her voice to the steady drone of gossip buzzing through the room.
"Why would you do that?" Gina asked, shocked. "My God, do you know what you're exposing yourself to?"
"Nothing more than what happens to us every night in the Meat Wagon."
"Then why volunteer for it?"
"Research."
"Research? What do you think you're going to be studying?"
"For starters," Frankie said, leaning back on her mattress, "I want to learn how to drive a HumVee."
Later in the night, with the room overcrowded, Gina and Aimee shared her bed. Aimee slept between the two women, and snuggled up against Frankie in her sleep.
Frankie lay there unmoving, staring at the ceiling.
It was a long time before she slept.
At four the next morning, the battery-powered bullhorns squawked to life, blaring reveille throughout the empty streets. Within five minutes of the first note, the troops fell out accordingly: dressed, armed, and eager to go. The town buzzed with activity. Guardsmen darted back and forth, carrying out orders. The motor pool thrummed with the sound of revving engines, and the Humvees, trucks and transports began to file out of the buildings. Some carried food stores and other essentials; blankets, water, gasoline, oil, spare parts, generators (under interrogation Baker had made sure they understood that Havenbrook had no power left), weapons, ammunition, textiles, and everything else they would need. Other trucks were designated for human cargo.
The doors to the fitness center, movie theatre, and other detainment areas were thrown open, and the sleepy and frightened civilians were herded outside. They hugged one another at gunpoint, huddling for warmth against the chilly pre-dawn air. A column of trucks roared to a halt in front of them, and the soldiers began ordering them into the trailers.
A former banker and a grocery store clerk tried to slip away in the confusion. Gunshots exploded in the darkness as they were discovered and gunned down.
After that, there were no further attempts at escape.
Jim, Martin, Baker and Haringa stayed clustered together as their line shuffled toward a waiting trailer. Two guards stepped toward them and grabbed Baker by his arms.
"Sir, I'm Private Miccelli and this is Private Lawson. You need to come with us."
Jim stepped between them. "Why? Where are you taking him?"
Miccelli looked him in the eye and smiled. "How would you like to be gut shot and left behind? If not, then mind your own fucking business, friend."
Planting his feet, Jim's fists clenched at his side. Martin placed a quick hand on his shoulder, and whispered in his ear.
"Not now. Not like this. This isn't going to help Danny."
Gently, he pushed Jim forward toward the truck.
"Good luck, gentlemen!" Baker called after them. "I'm sure we'll meet again before this is through."
Martin waved. "And to you too, Professor. God is with us all."
As they marched the scientist away, Baker suddenly turned and cried out.
"Mr. Thurmond! Your son is alive. I can feel it too!"
"Let's go!" Miccelli shouted. He smacked Baker in the back of the head with a fist and unslung his M-16.
Jim, Martin and Haringa filed towards the truck with the rest of the men. The trailer was filled before they got to it and their line was halted. The soldiers swung the doors shut, sealed them with a thin, metal shipping band, then waved the truck on. It pulled away and another one rolled up to take its place.
One by one they were forced to climb up into the trailer. Jim paused at the top and held out his hand to Martin, pulling the old man up with him.
"Keep moving," one of the guards barked, "all the way to the back!"
They herded them in, and the trailer filled with pressing, unwashed bodies. The three of them were pushed all the way to the rear. They crouched down, Jim and Haringa shielding Martin from the other prisoners, making sure he wasn't crushed against the walls.
"I hope you guys aren't claustrophobic," Haringa remarked. "That would really suck."
Finally, the trailer filled to capacity with its human cargo. The doors slammed shut, plunging them into dense, stifling darkness. The motor sputtered to life and they began to move.
Julie waved to them through the crowd, and Frankie thought the woman almost looked giddy; as if this were nothing more than a weekend road trip with some guys they'd met at a party.
Giggling, she sidled up between Frankie and Gina. "You ready to have some fun?"
"Word! You know it," Frankie smiled. "I hope these guys are cute."
"Oh, they are," Julie assured her. "And like I said, they're gentler than most. You should try to hook up with one of them."
Gina grabbed Frankie's arm and pulled her aside.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?"
Frankie nodded. "I'm sure. You just watch out for Aimee and yourself.
I'm going to start making some friends. Learn what I can."
Two soldiers approached and one lifted Julie from the ground, swinging her through the air. She squealed in delight.
"Put me down," she playfully insisted, then turned to Frankie.
"This is Blumenthal." She ran a hand over his broad chest. "And this is Lawson. Lawson, this is my friend, Frankie. She's the one that beat that bull dyke's ass last night."
Lawson eyed her, lingering on her breasts and hips.
"Little thing like you? You don't look like you could have kicked her ass."
Frankie licked her lips suggestively. "I'm full of surprises."
"I bet you are." He turned to Blumenthal. "She can ride with us?"
The other Private laughed and pulled Julie to him. "Sure bro, I ain't got no problem with it. We just gotta make sure Sergeant Ford doesn't find out."
"I was hoping you'd offer to give us a ride," Frankie said. "What are we waiting for? Let's go."
Lawson let out a low whistle and patted her ass.
"Right this way, ladies."
Gina watched them disappear into the crowd, and then went in search of Aimee.
She found the girl clustered protectively among another group of women.
PFC Kramer stood nearby, leering at the girl.
With revulsion, Gina noticed the erection bulging in his pants.
They were directed toward a trailer and shuffled toward it.
Kramer's eyes never left Aimee, marking her location in the convoy. Gina didn't think Aimee had noticed.
She shuddered as the trailer doors slammed shut.
The last thing she saw was Kramer's grin.
"Welcome aboard, Professor Baker. I'm pleased that you could join us."
Worm sat bound and gagged, his eyes bulging in a mixture of
terror and relief as Baker climbed into the command vehicle. McFarland sat to his left, a pistol casually pushed against the young man's ribs. Gonzalez sat directly in front of them and the seat next to him was empty. Schow indicated with a wave of his hand that Baker should sit there.
He complied, mouthing assurances to Worm. "It's okay. We're just going for a ride. They won't hurt us."
The boy softened, his body going slack. He leaned back in the seat, his eyes remaining on Baker.