by J. W. Vohs
Two weeks following the incident at the community center in Espanola, Robbie, Michael, Carolyn, and Katie were sharing a pot of coffee before the kids awoke for the day. Electricity was being rationed, but like most families in the area, the Carboni’s had a back-up generator. A few minutes after the adults all sat down with their steaming mugs, the general silence of the early morning was suddenly broken by the roar of an approaching motorcycle which abruptly shut off after it was obviously parked in the driveway. Katie had the door open before Eli was able to knock.
“We’ve got trouble,” the officer reported after removing his helmet. “Somebody’s reconnected the bridge, and a couple dozen cars are backed up at the checkpoint. I can’t say how many got through before we realized what happened and put the roadblock back in place.”
“The controls for the bridge . . . is anybody in the control room now?” Carolyn wondered.
“We have our guys in there. No trace of anyone when we got to it.” Inspector Tessier looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “We’re trying to get the people processed car by car, but some of our local folks want to just send ‘em back where they came from. I’m not happy they’re here, but I’m not about to send a bunch of families back to hell for no good reason.”
Robbie nodded. “Why didn’t you just radio for us? We could have been there by now.”
“It’s like I said, some people don’t want to let them through. No reason to advertise they’re here. I decided to tell you in person to slow down the news—everybody listens to scanners nowadays. My guys have things under control for now. Vehicles are being checked in and parked, and the people are being escorted to the hospital for physicals.”
“I’ll help you at the check-point,” Carolyn offered. “I have a way of making people feel comfortable.”
Robbie grinned. “You underestimate your talents. You ready, Michael?”
Michael turned to his wife, “Will you be OK alone here with the kids?”
Katie practically pushed him out the door. “Half of those kids are bigger than me, and we’re far from alone. We’ll go help Mrs. Jorgenson with breakfast and entertain the guests. I think it’s time for another Scrabble tournament to boost the Americans’ morale. Those senior citizens take their word games very seriously.”
Eli led the way to the bridge, with Michael and the others following in Katie’s SUV. They were waved through two roadblocks before approaching the line of newcomers backed up to the middle of the span. Carolyn was given a nametag and a notebook and began cheerfully working her way back through the long line of vehicles.
“How many have come through?” Robbie asked the officers who’d been manning the main post.
A young constable replied, “Forty-seven so far, and it looks like we’re almost half way through the line.”
“We need to get those cars off the bridge and swing it open again. Let’s move everyone back and line the cars up on either side here,” Michael pointed to the shoulders on both sides of the road. Robbie and a few others immediately set off to make the necessary adjustments and get the word out to the security forces and the drivers waiting on the bridge. Michael turned to Eli, “So where are these people from, and how did the bridge get closed?”
The inspector scanned a pile of papers on a clip board. “Most of them are from Sudbury, but a few say they’re from Toronto.” He studied one of the sheets carefully for a minute, then groaned. “The bridge controls were apparently sabotaged—we haven’t been able to get anything to work.”
“Let me have a look at them. It’s just electric motors to operate the machinery and hydraulics to actually swing the bridge. I was an electrical engineer for years,” Michael explained, “and with the back-up diesel generator in the control room, I don’t see how we can’t get it up and running quickly unless they’ve cut the cables.”
“Go for it, Mr. Mayor. We’ve got a couple mechanics up there already, I’ll radio ‘em and let ‘em know to expect you. It’ll be a tight squeeze.” Eli shook his head. “I’m no engineer, but it always seemed weird that the control room is on the bridge itself—I always thought a little remote control button from either side would be handier. You know, kinda like a garage door opener.”
Michael laughed. “You’re right. You’re no engineer. Tell Robbie where I’m at in case he needs me for anything.”
* * *
An hour later the bridge was cleared of vehicles and just over a hundred people had been registered and escorted to the hospital. Half a dozen cars still needed to be checked in, but the security crews had fallen in to a smooth and efficient routine. Carolyn was acting as a kind of information officer, chatting with the remaining refugees while somehow always managing to be the center of attention. Two security teams remained at the checkpoint, and Michael was hopeful that they’d be able to swing the bridge after finishing repairs on a hastily disabled motor. He turned to the other men in the control room and observed, “I think we’ve got it now. I’ll stay here and make sure, but you guys should fetch a boat to get me off this thing once it’s open. You know swinging the bridge is really a one man job, and we’ve been getting a little too cozy in here for my taste.”
As soon as he got a thumbs-up from Eli, Michael rebooted the system and fired up the motor, causing the traffic lights at each end to begin blinking. A small cheer erupted from the security team members still positioned on the shore until Robbie shushed them. “Everybody, quiet for a minute,” he barked. “What the hell is that?”
Across the water, a lone truck was speeding toward the bridge, honking its horn wildly. People were shouting from its windows as it thundered onto the bridge. Michael swore under his breath and climbed down from the control room to confront these latest arrivals, but they just sped by him. He swore again, and was a bit disappointed that he hadn’t swung the bridge a few minutes earlier. The truck crashed through the road block, sideswiped a police car, and finally stopped with its front end crunched around a “Welcome to Little Current” road sign. Michael jogged after it, furious at the reckless driver and thankful that no one on shore had been injured. When Michael had covered nearly half the distance to the scene, he had to stop running and try to understand Carolyn, who had begun frantically waving her arms and calling out to him. He cocked his head to listen, and while he couldn’t make out the words, the terror in her voice was unmistakable. Instinctively, he glanced back over his shoulder and what he saw almost stopped his heart.
Hundreds of zombies were stumbling out of the woods and pouring out onto the road behind him, heading directly for the bridge. Without any conscious thought, Michael began running back towards the control room.
“He’s going to swing the bridge!” Carolyn shouted as the remaining refugees were organized into a convoy and directed to follow one of the officers to the hospital.
A little boy in one of the cars was becoming hysterical, “I knew that they were following us!” he sobbed. “Dad said they were too slow, but I knew they’d find us!”
At the first sign of the creatures, Eli had put out an all points distress call requesting back-up for combat and all the firepower available. For a moment, he was too distracted to notice the driver of the banged-up truck unloading an arsenal of weapons from the bed of the vehicle. A familiar voice caught his attention, “Hey, Eli, let’s get these distributed before the zombies get here.”
“Corey? What the hell? This is military stuff. Saiga shotguns, ARs, hell, you even have AKs here. Jesus, did you bring all those refugees too?” Eli was glad to see his younger brother, but he had a strong suspicion that Corey was at least indirectly responsible for the current crisis.
Corey ignored his brother’s questions. “You know they don’t like water, right? We can pick ‘em off as they cross the bridge; we can kill all of those flesh eating monsters.”
Robbie grabbed Corey by his collar and threw him against the side of the truck. “You stupid bastard! You led them right to us, didn’t you?” The first of the creatures had reached the br
idge, but Michael was almost in position. “Do you see that guy out there? He’s a friend of mine.” Dozens of zombies crowded onto the bridge while even more poured in from the countryside. “If he can swing this thing he’ll keep the infected from reaching us, but what happens to him?”
Corey was defiant. “Swinging the bridge is no solution—we need to kill those things while we have the chance. They’re like lemmings; they’ll just keep coming across regardless of the firepower. We can wipe out the whole lot of ‘em.”
“You think more aren’t right behind these? You think you can make a dent in the pandemic by killing a couple hundred of the infected?” Robbie still had a tight grip on Corey’s shirt.
“Of course not, but we can make a dent here, just here. We can make things a little safer in our neck of the woods. Now let’s stop arguing and start killing some zombies.”
Robbie had never liked Corey Tessier. He didn’t want to admit that there was any merit whatsoever to Corey’s plan, but if they stormed the bridge and met the creatures half-way they could annihilate an impressive number of the infected with the firepower that had been stashed in the constable’s truck. Reinforcements were already arriving from town, and if they could keep the creatures on the far side of the bridge they could cover Michael’s escape from the control room once the bridge was turned. They’d need boats to evacuate the fighters from the structure once it had been disconnected from the island, but that wouldn’t be a problem, and, at this point, Robbie couldn’t see a better option for Michael anyway.
Robbie let go of Corey and picked up a Saiga 12-gauge shotgun with a box-style magazine. Like Michael and many others on the island, he was wearing leather clothing, gloves, and carrying a goalie’s mask in a pack. A small sledge hammer and long knife hung from his thick belt. “We’re storming the bridge,” he shouted, “and we can’t let the creatures cross the middle. We need to keep the control room clear—“
“I think Michael is about to turn the bridge,” Carolyn breathlessly interrupted.
Eli tossed Carolyn a radio. “Call him and tell him to hold off. Let him know what we’re up to.”
A few seconds later Carolyn shouted, “Michael knows what you’re doing. Grab the flare gun from his glove compartment; that will be the signal to swing the bridge.”
Two roughnecks who’d scrambled from the cab of Corey’s truck when it finally stopped joined the rogue lawman as he trotted out onto the bridge. Eli and Robbie were right behind them, while several local police officers quickly took up sniper’s positions off to the side. Corey and his buddies soon slowed down as they closed to within thirty meters of the approaching horde, the smell of the zombies’ putrid flesh hanging so thick in the air that they choked on the stench. The creatures were gore-covered and loudly moaning in anticipation of their next meal, and some of them appeared to be moving much more fluidly than they had during the early days of the infection.
Corey and his two companions finally stopped and began firing at the mob crossing the bridge, trying to make head-shots but finding it much more difficult than they had anticipated. Eli, decked out in full biker-gear, was using his pistol with no great effect when the ear-splitting booms of 12-gauge rounds being fired from the Saiga Robbie had grabbed from the truck roared past him from the right side of the line. The gun was fully automatic and loaded with double-ought buckshot, which was nothing short of devastating to the front ranks of zombies that were within five meters of the men by the time Robbie opened fire. The only problem was that the Saiga had been loaded with just a ten-round magazine, and while at least a dozen zombies were killed and as many wounded in the four-second burst of flame and lead, hundreds more were waiting beyond the fallen bodies to continue the assault when the gun fell silent.
Robbie instinctively knew that he and the other men needed to move forward so they could catch the monsters off-balance as they tried to navigate their way over the corpses and wounded lying on the bridge in front of them, so he grabbed Eli by the collar of his coat and pulled him along to stand directly in front of the black-blood soaked bodies he had just slaughtered. Corey followed his brother, with his buddies not far behind, and in a few seconds they were all together in a ragged line where they silently awaited the next zombie charge. The creatures came stumbling across the carpet of dead and wounded, many of them falling to their knees where they continued forward by crawling toward the humans. Robbie noticed that in spite of the ragged chorus of gunfire from his comrades, few of the monsters went down to stay. He flashed back to the community center and wished he’d brought along a hockey stick; he decided that if he survived this fight he’d never be without one again. Finally, a small female zombie with a five-o-clock shadow of dried blood around her mouth fell at Robbie’s feet and clawed at his boots. He had been waiting with the hammer and Bowie knife in his hands, and with a shout of relief that he was back in the fight he swung the heavy, steel head in a wide arc and crushed the small skull with such force that brains, blood, and bone flew across the feet of every man in the line.
Eli, Corey, and the two men beside them were now close enough to the zombies that they couldn’t miss, and the air above and around the monsters was filled with flying gore as the men emptied their pistols into the faces of the relentless monsters. Several fighters from the island were running up with their rifles to join the officers attempting to snipe the zombies from shore, and when Robbie heard shots ring out from behind him he knew that he was now in danger from both directions. Even well-trained troops had to worry about friendly fire, and the locals weren’t even close to trained when it came to making head shots on moving zombies at nearly fifty yards. Fortunately, Carolyn was on shore giving the shooters hell about firing too close to Robbie and the other fighters, and the men soon started aiming at the back of the mob of attacking zombies rather than at those currently engaged with the humans on the bridge.
Eli had joined Robbie on the hammer-team after he unloaded his pistol into the charging horde, and as he heard his brother’s gun and those of his friends go silent, he prayed that they had a back-up plan. He realized that not too many people had thought about the possibility of being cornered by so many zombies and then running out of ammo, or simply not having the time to reload before the monsters were on them. His arms were quickly growing weary with the strain of unceasing swinging against an enemy who understood no concept other than attack and feed. Dozens of zombie corpses lay strewn across the bridge in front of them, but the numbers of creatures moaning and clawing as they reached for them seemed not to have diminished at all.
Out of the corner of his eye Eli could see that Robbie had retired his hammer and was now essentially body-checking the zombies over the railing of the bridge. The former hockey star had proven to be the most deadly human in the battle, having accounted for more enemy dead than the other four men combined. None of this was helping the rapidly weakening Eli, though, and Corey and his two friends were also in big trouble.
Using his pistol as a club, Corey had managed to crush the skulls of several zombies before a pack of the creatures forced him to back up several steps, causing him to trip over a corpse and tumble to the ground. A huge male fell on top of the constable, and they began wrestling across the surface of the bridge as Corey shouted for help. At the same time, the two men who minutes before had been so anxious to kill zombies dropped their now useless firearms and were running back to the truck with several zombies in hot pursuit. Eli finished off one more attacker before turning to splatter the brain of the creature furiously trying to eat his brother with a vicious side-arm swing that nearly decapitated the gnashing monster.
Robbie saw that his left flank was now uncovered and realized that their small defensive line had crumbled. He grabbed Eli by the collar of his leather coat and began pulling him to the rear. Eli drug Corey with him, aware that they had lost control of the situation. Even as Robbie was pulling the two men behind him, he felt the crush of the monsters swarming around them and pressing toward the people sta
nding on the Manitoulin side of the bridge. He realized that there was only one course of action remaining if he was going to protect the island, so he stopped to pull the flare gun from his belt.
To her credit, Carolyn didn’t hesitate to radio Michael and make certain that he saw the signal, even though it meant that she was almost certainly about to lose several friends and a lover by trapping them on the steel span with over a hundred zombies. Michael had been waiting with everything fired up and ready to go, so when the order came through to swing the bridge he was able to immediately initiate the movement. As the turn began, a handful of zombies were stumbling toward the island and had made it more than three quarters of the way to shore. The first of them reached the edge of the bridge just as a small gap began to appear between the two sections of the structure. The men who’d been serving as ineffectual snipers continued to miss most of the head shots they were attempting to make, so a few of the creatures managed to leap the growing chasm and reach the island intact.
While this drama was unfolding, Katie pulled up in Michael’s car to check on her husband and friends. The teenagers, dressed like fashion-challenged bikers, had managed to load the car with what they considered their personal anti-zombie gear, and Katie was too distracted to argue about a few duffle bags in the back seat. When Katie rushed over to Carolyn for an update, the kids broke out the new weapons they’d been working on. Connor had reinforced his goalie stick with sheet metal that was bolted through the wood halfway up the shaft; the other boys liked the idea and had made similar modifications to their own sticks. They all agreed that metal reinforcements would make the equipment that killed several creatures in Espanola even deadlier the next time they had to face the zombie-monsters that had killed Connor’s mom.
Grant, Alec, Connor, and even Tracy saw the chaos on the bridge and immediately finished suiting up with gloves and masks. They were all running to help resist the zombies about to reach the shoreline when they saw Robbie fire the flare, but Grant and Connor were significantly faster than the others so the kids quickly separated into two groups. Katie didn’t immediately recognize the older boys as two lanky young men in mish-mashed hockey/biker gear raced by her, but ten meters behind, Alec and Tracy were unmistakable. As Carolyn and Katie intercepted the youngsters, Katie realized where the older boys were and let out a terrified wail as she turned towards the slowly rotating bridge.