by Russ Watts
Reaching the upper floor, Jonas turned to his right and almost fell over a large suitcase. It looked like it had burst open, and clothes lay scattered about the room. There was a window on the other side of the room, and it let Jonas see exactly what they were dealing with. The room was quite bare except for a cream-colored sofa in the middle of the room pointed at a large flat-screen TV which was sat on the floor. There were no pictures on the white walls, just a brown beanbag in one corner, and a pile of books in another which were propping up an ironing board. Against the far wall was what passed as a kitchen. There was a small stove, a microwave, and a table piled high with cutlery and plates caked in grease and mold that hadn’t been washed in months. Jonas guessed whoever lived here had moved on, evidently not having enough time to take their broken suitcase with them. Despite the light, there was no warmth to the room, and the air was just as cold as in the stairwell. Jonas took a little comfort from the fact that they weren’t going to run into any zombies though. He knew from experience that he could usually smell them, and though the air was stale, it was clean. It didn’t carry the disgusting aroma that often indicated the dead were around.
As Bishop raced up behind him, Jonas turned to ask him what they should do next. As far as he could see, there was no way into the next building. There was a door he had yet not investigated, but it likely just led to a bedroom. It was wide open, and Jonas could see through the bitter darkness a long shape that was almost certainly a bed.
“Check it out. We don’t have long before they figure out where we went,” said Bishop. As Jonas went to check out the other room, Bishop ran his fingers over the wooden framework at the top of the stairs. His fingers found small holes at regular intervals, and he frowned. “They’ve taken the door off.” Sighing, Bishop surveyed the small room before him. “Damn open-plan living.”
“Nothing,” said Jonas, returning to Bishop. “The room’s got a bed, a heap of crap, and a small bathroom. There’s a square window that opens out onto the street we just came across. It looks like most of those dead fuckers must’ve followed us in here. The place next door is almost clear.”
Bishop nodded, listening to Jonas. “Good.”
“Good? In case you hadn’t noticed, Bishop, we’re trapped up here. How is this good?” There was a huge bang downstairs, and Jonas jumped. He pointed his gun at the top of the open stairway. “You’d better come up with a plan B pretty smart, Bishop.”
Without saying a word, Bishop left Jonas, and went into the dark bedroom. Jonas kept his gun trained at the stairs and peered down. The door at the bottom was being knocked around, and it was surely only seconds before they found a way to open it. The stairs were narrow, and Jonas figured the dead would only be able to come up one by one. That would give him enough time to pick them off, but once the ammo was gone, they only had Bishop’s sword. Would that be enough to kill them all? Jonas began to think he had made a mistake. There probably wasn’t even anyone alive next door. They had wasted their time, and he wasn’t sure there was any getting out of this.
“In here.”
Jonas heard Bishop call to him from the bedroom. He wasn’t sure whether to go to him or keep his eyes on the stairs.
“What is it?” yelled Jonas.
There was a splintering sound, like wood cracking and popping on a roaring fire, and at the bottom of the stairway Jonas saw the door burst out of its frame. Suddenly the zombies were through, and their snarling faces looked upward straight at Jonas.
“Oh fu….” Jonas dropped the first zombie, putting a bullet through its brain, but it was instantly followed by more. The dead climbed over each other, pouring forward as they ventured up the stairs.
“Whatever it is, Bishop, you’d better have found a way out of here.” Jonas fired again, and another zombie fell, only to be replaced by another. The stairwell was rapidly filling up, and despite the cold air, Jonas felt a bead of sweat dribble down his back. He fired again and then gave up. There was no way he could take them all on, and he turned and ran for the bedroom.
“Ready to go?”
Jonas found Bishop pulling a faded red quilt from the bed, and dragging it over to the window where he placed it carefully over the scruffy carpet, now littered with broken glass. Bishop kicked more broken glass out of the way and beckoned Jonas over.
“It’s about six feet across, but I think it’ll hold.”
Jonas looked through the smashed window and saw what Bishop meant. Beneath the ledge was a small window box fixed to the wall. The sign he had seen earlier was within touching distance and was hanging from a small balcony. They were going to have to jump across.
“Go,” said Bishop. “I’ll cover you,” he said, holding his sword out ready to take down their attackers.
“This is insane,” said Jonas, as he climbed out of the window. He placed his feet on the window box, letting it take his weight, and was sure he felt it give a little. He kept his hands firmly on the window-frame. As he looked at the balcony and sized up the situation, he noticed the zombies from below had mostly dispersed. They were funneling into the sandwich shop leaving only a few in the street below.
“Time to go,” shouted Bishop.
Jonas heard the unmistakable grunts and groans of the dead, and then something heavy hit the floor in the bedroom. He didn’t need Bishop to tell him they were truly trapped now. There was no other way out but to jump for it.
Jonas braced himself, and kept his eyes trained on the balcony rail.
“See you on the other side, Bishop,” shouted Jonas. He stretched out his arms and jumped.
CHAPTER SIX
Jonas’s fingers caught hold of the cold balcony rail, and he slowly pulled himself up. He expected to find the railing would crumble when he grabbed it or that he would lose his grip, but thankfully he made it, and he pulled himself up and over the rail, collapsing into a heap on the other side. His left arm, where Javier had shot him, was aching tremendously, and Jonas had to concentrate to block out the pain.
“Heads up!”
Bishop’s sword suddenly flew at him, and Jonas ducked instinctively. The sword landed with a clatter on the balcony, and Jonas snatched at it before it could roll away and fall down to the street.
Wasting no time, Bishop launched himself into the air, and as he banged into the side of the balcony, the window box gave way. Jonas lunged forward to help him. Bishop grabbed Jonas’s arms, and together they got him over the rail to safety.
“Jesus, Bishop, that was a little too close for comfort.” Jonas picked himself up, and helped Bishop to his feet, handing him back his sword.
Bishop checked his gun and wiped the sweat from his face. “I’ve got two left in the chamber, then I’m out. I guess we’re not going back for a sandwich. I’m getting hungry. I could really go for some sliced ham and pickle.”
“You knock yourself out,” said Jonas. “Meanwhile, on planet Earth, you want to look inside this place?” Jonas peered at the glass doors facing him. The apartment appeared to be empty. Nobody had come rushing out to meet them, so if there was someone in there, they were keeping a low profile. Whoever was in there had to have heard the gunfire, so why hadn’t they come out? If they did need help, wouldn’t they have run shouting and screaming to the balcony? Perhaps whoever was in there was no more alive than the hundred zombies now next door.
Bishop exhaled slowly. “I know, Annalise, I know,” he whispered.
Jonas tried the handle, and turned it slowly. The room beyond the glass doors was dark and appeared to be empty, but he didn’t want to go rushing in. He had done that in the past and found it was a bad idea. Too many unpleasant surprises could be lurking in dark rooms. “You good?”
Bishop nodded, and Jonas opened the door. He stepped over the threshold, and looked around cautiously, holding his gun out in front of him, ready to shoot. Bishop joined him inside, leaving the frustrated and trapped zombies behind them, clawing at the window box, and filling up the bedroom.
Jonas waved a
finger to the left indicating for Bishop to go around the other side of the room. The room was large, another open-plan kitchen-diner, and anything could be hiding behind the furniture. The window on the far side was closed, and wooden blinds kept out most of the light. There were two doors at each side of the room, both closed. Jonas tried to listen for the telltale sounds of the dead, but the only noise he heard were the zombies next door, and the pounding of his own heart.
The two men slowly walked around the room, listening, looking, and waiting for someone to appear. Nobody did.
Upon reaching the other window, Jonas cracked open the blind. He peered down at the alley, hoping to find some way out. All he saw were more of the dead. The alley stretched the length of the street and was full of zombies. They lurched from side to side, festering in the sun, and Jonas knew there was no way out. Even if they could find a fire escape, the alley was so crowded with the dead, there was no route past them. Whoever was or had been trapped in here had been truly stuck. Maybe they ended it all and took a flying leap off the balcony.
“There’s no one here.” Jonas left the window and joined Bishop at the door on the eastern side of the room.
Bishop looked at Jonas expectantly in the gloom, and Jonas nodded. Both knew they had to check out every room, just in case, and both knew what they had to do.
As Bishop pushed open the door, Jonas stepped inside, his gun raised, always ready. The brightness of the room startled him. The window was wide open, and light streamed in exposing the woman sitting upright on the bed.
“Are you…?”
The solid base of a lampshade suddenly connected with the back of Jonas’s head, and he stumbled forward, dazed. Turning to look at his attacker, Jonas saw a tall man step forward from behind the door, and he hit Jonas again, cracking the lampshade across the side of Jonas’s head. Jonas dropped the gun, and it fell onto the plush, soft carpet.
“Grab his gun, quick,” said the man as he pushed Jonas back toward the bed.
Unable to keep his balance, and with a ringing in his ears blossoming, Jonas felt his legs go from under him. He tried to catch himself, but there was nothing to get hold of, and he fell to the floor. His vision was swirling, and all he could see was the vague shape of the man standing in front of him.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” said Bishop as he entered the room and pointed the gun at the back of the man’s head.
The woman on the bed had her fingers on Jonas’s gun, and she was bent over it. She curled her fingers around the gun, preparing to pick it up.
Bishop pressed the gun to the back of the man’s head and shoved him forward so the woman could see quite clearly what was about to happen. “Drop it, or your friend’s brains will be spread across this room faster than you can say cheese sandwich.”
Bishop saw the woman look at the man, her eyes seeking answers about what to do. She looked scared, and not just of Bishop. The way she looked at the man suggested to Bishop that all was not well between these two people.
“I knew you would fuck it up,” said the man. “Why did I have to get stuck with you?”
The woman looked from the man, to Bishop, to Jonas, and back to the man again. Her fingers were still touching the gun, but her body language showed she was reluctant to pick it up.
“Leave it, Private; they win,” said the man.
Jonas picked up his gun and told the woman to go sit on the bed. Bishop instructed the man to go and sit with her. Jonas went to stand beside Bishop, rubbing the back of his head. There was already a small bump forming where the man had hit him with the lamp. He looked around the room at the squalid conditions the couple had been living in. It looked as if they had spent months living in just this room. From the smell, and the look on the two stranger’s faces, it hadn’t been a pleasurable experience.
“You know, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” said Bishop. “How about we start again? My name’s Bishop, and this is…”
“I don’t give a fuck who you are,” said the man, a scowl spreading across his face. “I need you to hand over that gun. You too,” he said, looking at Jonas. “I am Sergeant Carlton of the US Army. That is all you need to know. The country is under martial law, and as the most superior serving office in the current whereabouts, I am best equipped to deal with this situation. I need to…”
“You need to calm down,” said Bishop. “From where I‘m standing, you’re sergeant of nothing. You do have a certain amount of influence over your fate, and what happens to you in the next sixty seconds will largely depend on if you can control that mouth of yours. We have a very limited space of time to get out of here, and I don’t intend to waste it listening to an idiot like you.” Bishop breathed out sharply.
Jonas only then noticed that both the man and woman were dressed in military uniforms. Sergeant Carlton looked angry, and his face grew redder as Bishop spoke to him. The woman looked relieved, if anything, although uncomfortable to be staring down the wrong end of a gun.
“You, what’s the deal?” Bishop looked at the woman. “You need help, yes? Was that sign outside just a dumb plan to get a couple of morons like us in here so you could take our guns?”
“No, we do need help. I’m sorry, look…”
“Shut up, Private,” said Carlton. “These two men aren’t here to rescue us. Wake up. They’ll kill me first, rape you, and take what we have. The best you can do is to keep your mouth shut, and wait for this to be over.”
Bishop crouched down before the two of them and stared into their eyes. As the room fell into silence, Jonas waited for him to say something, but he continued to stare at them. Sergeant Carlton stared back, clearly unwilling to back down. The woman appeared uneasy and looked up at Jonas. Her long brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, and she had large bags under her eyes. If, as suspected, they had spent the last few months here, she had good reason to be tired. If she had spent it with her sergeant barking orders like that, then she was probably desperate to get out.
“I know, I know. You’re right, of course.”
Bishop spoke to nobody in particular, and Jonas took a guess that he was having one of those conversations with his imaginary wife. Quite what the two soldiers would make of Bishop, he wasn’t sure. The pain going around his head meant Jonas didn’t much care, either.
“Private, what’s your name?” asked Bishop.
The woman answered smartly, but nervously. Jonas detected just a hint of a Southern accent when she spoke, but it was swallowed up by her trembling voice.
“Private Julie Buri, sir.”
“Julie, in thirty seconds, we’re leaving. I can see you need help, and I know that sign you put out there was genuine. I’m going to help you folks on your way. None of us want any trouble, do we? So why don’t you gather up anything you need to take with you, and go over to my friend, Hamsikker. He’ll look after you.”
Julie slowly got up and walked over to Jonas. She was tall and quite striking. Her uniform that once clung to her body was now a little loose, especially around the waist, and yet despite her timid manner, she walked with confidence. Jonas noticed that the sergeant’s eyes followed her as she walked, though it was hard to work out if he was viewing her with lust or contempt. Her long brown hair was accompanied by large brown eyes, and Jonas wondered if there was more to the relationship with her sergeant than just official. A man and a woman cooped up together like that for months on end could only go one way. Jonas hadn’t worked out yet whether it was love or hate.
“I don’t have anything to take,” she said apologetically, offering Jonas a timid smile. “Just him.”
“Sergeant Carlton. I’m going to start over, and I would really like you to listen this time,” said Bishop. “I like to help people. Truly. You need our help. Every good officer knows when to call for backup, and I’m afraid that we’re it. I know you wanted something else. You probably thought the whole of the US Army was going to show up and get you out of here in a Black Hawk. Well, frankly, you are the army
. You and Julie here are all that’s left. I’m more than prepared to help you get out of here. We have a vehicle outside, and we’ll get you on your way. But I need to know that I can trust you. If you can follow my orders, just for the next few minutes, then you’re a free man.” Bishop stood up and held out his hand. “What do you say?”
Sergeant Carlton stared at Julie who refused to return his gaze. If he thought he was going to get any backup from her, he was mistaken, and Jonas began to think it must be hate.
“Fine. Whatever. I guess you’ve got the gun, so what choice do I have?” Carlton took Bishop’s hand, and they shook briefly.
“Actually, this is for you,” said Bishop, turning the gun around and offering it to Carlton.
Jonas felt the hairs on the back of his neck shiver. “Bishop, I’m not so sure this is a good idea.” A minute ago, and Carlton would happily have beaten Jonas to death, and now Bishop was turning his gun over to him? He knew Bishop was a bit off the wall, but this was tantamount to suicide.
Carlton licked his lips, and slowly took the gun from Bishop, an expression of anger on his face rapidly turning to confusion. “But…but…”
“When we get out there, trust me, you’re going to need it. There are only two bullets left, so use them wisely. You’ve more to worry about than me.” Bishop drew his sword. “If you do try anything, then my good friend, Hamsikker, will kill you and Julie. Assuming I don’t do it first. Do we understand each other?”
“Affirmative,” said Carlton checking the chamber. “I appreciate that…”