by Gareth Wood
"There's blood on the floor, in the dust," she said.
"Maybe I hit him after all," I mused, pleased at the thought of Shakey's murderer suffering.
"I'll go first," she said, and pushed the door open before I could do anything. Welcome light flooded in, coming from the large windows on the southern wall. Boxes and crates filled the room, piles reaching almost to the ceiling with logos from couriers and airlines stuck on their surfaces. There were paths through the piles, right and left.
Feynman snarled, low in her throat, and darted between us in a flash of fangs and claws. I heard the sound of debris being knocked about, then two gunshots. Robyn and I charged in. She went left while I went right. From somewhere in the middle where I couldn't see, there came the sounds of a struggle. Feynman's savage growling was followed by a gasp of pain, and then the sound of an impact, something hard hitting something soft.
I ducked between piles of old boxes, heading generally toward the center of the room, and drew my arrow to my cheek. Just as I approached a corner, ready to impale the son of a bitch the moment I saw him, I heard Robyn's rifle fire. It was deafening in this enclosed room, so I almost missed the sounds of running feet and a door slamming open. It was followed seconds later by Robyn calling my name, and then the door slamming open again. I reached the corner and turned, and found Feynman.
She lay unmoving on the concrete floor beside a small pool of blood and a bit of torn fabric. The length of pipe that Corrone had hit her with lay beside her, and as I approached she opened her eyes and whimpered. She had a nasty gash on her muzzle that was bleeding, but not life threatening. She was in pain, but I knew she'd be alright if we could get out of here.
"You stay here, Feynman. I'll come back for you, girl, I promise." The dog wagged her tail a bit, licked at my fingers. I took that for agreement.
I went for the man-door at the back of the room. I hadn't heard any shooting, so I had no idea what to expect when I walked outside. Never one for subtlety, I kicked the door open, drew to my cheek, and stepped outside onto the concrete. Abandoned planes were standing on rusting landing gear nearby, a two-seat trainer to my left, a Cessna behind that, and a ten-passenger prop-jet on the right.
Corrone was waiting.
He stood behind Robyn, his left arm wrapped around her neck. His right held a revolver, pointed at her temple. Her rifle lay on the ground just behind them. I aimed my arrow at his face.
"Drop the… bow… if you don't want your girlfriend's head blown off," he said, in a voice so cold it gave me chills.
Behind them, staggering across the runway only a hundred meters or so distant, were fifty or sixty of the hungry undead. Whatever was about to happen, it was going to happen fast.
CHAPTER FORTY
Chilliwack Airport Ruins, September 12, 2013
When Feynman charged into the room full of crates and boxes, Robyn knew it was now or never. Two gunshots sounded, loud in this small room. She twisted left and wove her way between stacks that had long been left unattended. The gloom here wasn't as total as in the public area, mainly due to the sunlight shining in through the south windows. The room was warm and muggy, and smelled of rot and mildew.
Robyn followed the sounds of a fight, heard Feynman growling, and then the impact of something hard against meat. It was all coming from around the corner. She led the way with her rifle aimed, her mantra flowing in her head like a river over a floodplain. When she cleared the corner she saw Corrone, limping away toward the back exit, handgun held in his right hand while his left clutched his side. He was bloodied and battered, and she thought he looked like shit. She aimed, but not at his head. She still wanted him alive.
Corrone lurched as she fired, and the shot missed him by less than a finger’s width. He lunged forward and slammed into the door, vanishing outside into the sunlight. Robyn ran after him, working the bolt as she moved, and pushed through the door, sweeping her rifle's barrel left to right. She had to blink in the sunlight, but he was gone. She stepped out from the doorway and swung the rifle around, trying to cover everywhere at once.
It was a graveyard of airplanes she found herself in. Some stood on tires long deflated, while others rested on nose or tail where landing gear had collapsed. Corrone was nowhere to be seen.
Robyn advanced, looking where the rifle pointed, keeping the stock tight to her shoulder. He could be anywhere, she realised. This wasn't anything like dealing with the undead. They came at you, never stopping or relenting unless something killed them or you escaped. People, actual living people, were something else altogether. They could plan, and hide, and ambush. Corrone, in addition, was capital 'C' crazy. There was simply no way to know what he might do.
Movement caught her attention out on the runway. Walking across the sun-drenched concrete was a sizeable horde of the undead. It was about the same size, she thought, as the group that had ambushed herself and Nick only a few days ago. The horde was minutes away, but still too close for comfort. She had to find Corrone soon.
"Drop the rifle and stand still," an utterly emotionless voice said, from behind her.
"Aw, shit!" Robyn felt ice crawl up her spine when she realised she'd been distracted by the undead. Dammit!
"Do it!"
She placed the rifle on the ground, and he came up behind her and took her pistol out of its holster, then backed away.
"Turn around."
She turned, keeping her hands out from her sides. She expected a bullet at any moment, and hoped that Amanda might come through the door at any second and shoot Corrone. She looked at the door, but Amanda didn't appear.
Corrone was shorter than she had expected. His shoulder was bloody and poorly bandaged, and he had blood on his shirt and hands. His left arm bled where Feynman had bitten him, and he favoured one leg. His revolver was pointed right at her heart, while her own gun was in his holster. Looking into his eyes, she felt as though she was looking into an icy mirror, or into a doll's eyes. There was nothing behind them. She shivered.
His own expression faltered as he saw her. Doubt, and a little fear crossed his face, only to vanish as quickly as they had appeared. The revolver drifted as his hand shook. He took a step closer, and naked hunger flickered in his eyes. Robyn almost recoiled from his expression, and the handgun steadied again.
"Lindsay?" Corrone whispered. Then his icy calm restored itself, and his expression hardened. "Who are you?" he demanded.
"Robyn Cartwright. A concerned citizen." How close are the undead?, she wondered. He had to see them coming! It gave her an itch between her shoulders to know that they were coming, and yet be unable to do anything about it. Her instincts screamed at her to do something, but the revolver held her still.
"Stand still," he told her, and walked a circle just out of her reach until he was behind her again. She heard and felt him approach, and when he touched her she felt sick. She froze when the gun touched her temple. His left arm, the bloody one, slid around her neck and his body pressed against her back.
"Good. Now hush."
Moments later the door to the terminal kicked open, and Amanda stepped out. She had an arrow drawn, and her eyes were narrowed as she took in the hostage scene. Corrone's grip on Robyn’s neck tightened as Amanda advanced outside, her arrow aimed directly at him.
"Drop the… bow… if you don't want your girlfriend’s head blown off," Corrone said.
Amazingly, Amanda grinned at Robyn, then shifted her eyes to Corrone. Amanda's gaze went ice cold, and Robyn felt her stomach flutter when she realised that the other woman wasn't going to back down.
"You have exactly one chance to live through this," Amanda said, her voice steady. "Drop the guns and surrender, and we'll take you back to Mission. If not, those hungry fuckers behind you will end this for all three of us in about another minute."
Robyn risked turning her head slightly. Sure enough, the undead were much closer, closing at a constant pace. Maybe a minute and a bit, she thought. I'd rather be shot, if those are the choi
ces. Something has to happen soon!
Suddenly she had a plan. Not much of one, but there was no time. She wiggled her fingers, hoping Corrone didn't notice. When Amanda looked at her she flicked her eyes down, then did it again. Amanda looked puzzled, then she looked back at Corrone. Robyn saw her settle, and take a breath. I hope she understood.
Amanda started to exhale while Robyn lifted her hands straight up and dropped all her weight, going completely limp.
So sudden was the drop that Corrone couldn't hold her. His attention had been on Amanda, so Robyn slipped below the gun before he could fire. Finding himself exposed and his hostage on the ground, Corrone desperately swung his arm toward Amanda. As Robyn's butt hit the ground she saw Amanda release the arrow. Propelled by a 50 pound recurve, and carrying a heavy bodkin point, the kind used to pierce plate armor, the arrow packed a lot of kinetic energy. It flew forward in a flash, and Robyn heard a thwack as it hit flesh. Corrone's revolver went off, and Robyn was horrified to see Amanda hit in the side, then falling.
"No! Amanda!" Robyn scrambled forward as Corrone fell, turning to look at the man. He fell onto his back, the arrow protruding from his sternum. He pawed at it, dropping his gun and staring in astonishment at the shaft sticking from his flesh. Robyn darted to his side and grabbed his revolver from where it lay on the ground, all too aware of the dead coming for them. Corrone turned his head toward her, spit out a great glob of bright red blood, and snarled at her in hate. She pointed the revolver at his face and fired once, then grabbed both her own handgun and her rifle.
The undead were mere moments away as Robyn rose to her feet and ran to Amanda. The other woman lay watching her approach, face contorted with pain. Blood pooled at Amanda's side, and her hands clutched at the injury.
"Oh God, Amanda! Let me see!" Pushing Amanda's hands away, Robyn gripped the fabric of Amanda's shirt and ripped it open. The bullet had gone in on her left side, between two ribs halfway from her hip to her armpit. There was no exit wound. The bullet was still inside, and the blood was pouring out.
"Oh, Amanda, I'm so sorry!"
"Be-be-behind you," Amanda managed to say, and then curled over herself in agony.
Three of the undead ignored the body of Corrone and had followed Robyn. They came at her with outstretched arms and vacant eyes, while many more of their kind tore Corrone's body apart where it lay, stuffing chunks of his flesh into their ravenous mouths. The three undead were only a handful of steps away as she raised the revolver and fired at the closest of them. The bullet burst through the thing’s forehead, spraying bone and rotten flesh onto the others behind. With two more shots Robyn destroyed the others, then dropped the empty revolver and drew her own handgun.
The crowd was momentarily distracted feasting on Corrone, so she slung her rifle and turned back to Amanda, who still lay on the ground, bloody and gasping for breath.
"We have to go!" Robyn picked Amanda up as gently as she could, but the other woman was very pale and still losing blood. Amanda couldn't stand by herself, but Robyn slipped under her right arm and turned her toward the corner of the building, intending to make a run for Shakey's truck, on the other side of the terminal. More of the undead turned the corner at that moment, a dozen or more. The group that had followed them down the road had finally arrived.
"F-Feynman, inside," Amanda gasped, her teeth clenched around the pain. "Go through…"
Robyn half-led, half-carried Amanda to the door, pulling it open with her foot and guiding the injured woman inside. They moved barely faster than the undead, and Robyn pulled the door shut in their faces, grey hands clasping at the steel as she slammed it home. She twisted the deadbolt and then carried Amanda into the room filled with boxes. Feynman, happy to see them despite her injured muzzle, walked up and nuzzled them both, whining a little as the dead started to pound on the walls.
"Don't stop," Amanda urged her. Her free hand was clutched to her side, but the blood was still flowing.
"I'm so sorry, Amanda," Robyn said, her eyes red and wet. "This is my fault, all my fault."
"Bull. Killed Corrone. Got the f-fucker," Amanda said, grinning despite her wound. "It's a g-good day to die…"
"You are not going to die!" Robyn cried out, wishing it were true. But she knew, as Amanda did, that the injury was fatal.
"I am, sweetie," Amanda said. "I am…"
They kept moving, back into the gloom of the waiting area, heading for the patch of light where the barrier was breached. Amanda hissed in agony as Robyn pulled her through the gap, but struggled to get up. She fell painfully, and Robyn picked her up again, but now Amanda couldn't help, couldn't stand at all.
"I'm not leaving you here, dammit!" Robyn picked Amanda up in her arms, carrying her like a child. Feynman jumped through the gap and followed. As they neared the front door Robyn saw the undead, hundreds of them, outside in the parking lot. She cursed in despair, then turned away from the windows before they were seen. There were too many to fight. If the front door was opened they would flood inside and tear Robyn, Amanda, and Feynman apart in seconds.
"Fuck! We're surrounded!" She carried Amanda back to the barrier and lay her down as gently as she could. She slumped down and sat in defeat on the floor, taking Amanda's hand as the injured woman gasped and spasmed.
Amanda opened her eyes and looked at Robyn. Her face was a map of agony, pale as a sheet and sweating. Her free hand felt at a pocket on her pants, and she pulled out a grey plastic cylinder, pushed it toward Robyn, her hand shaking.
"End of the line," Amanda said.
Robyn looked at the Euthanasia Kit and wanted to retch.
CHAPTER FORTY ONE
Chilliwack Airport Ruins, September 12, 2013
Amanda
My name is Amanda Marie Martin, and I am about to die.
I killed the fucker, though. I killed Corrone, the serial killer misogynistic bastard who's been preying on the people of the Mission Safe Zone since before the Safe Zone existed. When Robyn dropped I saw my chance, and let the arrow fly. It was a perfect shot, and I watched it bury itself in his chest, heard it crack the bastard's sternum.
But then the fuckhead shot me. It felt like I'd been kicked right below my boob by a pissed off quarter-horse, and holy hell did it hurt! Next thing I knew I was on the ground, trying to breathe and not having much luck at it, watching Robyn shoot Corrone in the face. That almost made being shot worth it. But what really topped it off was the undead. The horde coming at us stopped to have a little snack, and Corrone got what was coming to him. I almost felt sorry for the zombies, having to choke down that festering pile of shit.
Robyn hauled me up after killing a few stragglers, and we started moving. I almost passed out from the pain, but the threat of being eaten alive is an amazing focusing tool. I did what I could to help, limping to the door ahead of a column of zombies that came around the side of the terminal. Robyn got us inside and locked the door, and Feynman found us. Poor doggie, I hoped she would survive, but the odds were looking bad for all of us right now.
There was no way to save me. I know this. I've seen a few injuries like this in my life after the dead rose, and none of them survived. I'm too far from a trauma center, and in circumstances too dire to have a chance.
Robyn started apologising. Like this was her fault! How could I blame her? This was Corrone's doing, and he'd already paid for it, in full. Robyn had been nothing but a good friend to me for the short time I'd known her, and she couldn't have known how things would turn out.
If anything, I should be apologising to her. Here I was leaving her, another partner dying on her, like Nick did. What was that going to do to her?
As we climbed through the gap in the barrier, well, as Robyn pulled me through, because I wasn't getting through by myself, I passed out for a second. Welcome oblivion. A momentary painless sleep, until I woke up again on the floor on the other side. Then it hurt so bad that I couldn't stand. Waves of pain radiated like burning coals from my side, and I was sure I coul
d feel the bullet, still deep in my guts.
When we got to the front, we saw the bad news. There were so many undead outside we could have shot them for a week and not made a dent. It looked like all of Chilliwack had come to the airport for a free meal. They staggered around like naked drunks, all grey and with abraded skin peeling off, revealing desiccated flesh and bone beneath. I did not want to end up like that.
There's this thing about the zombie apocalypse. People die. I was carried to the barrier, where Robyn lay me down on the ground. She sat down and took my hand. I barely had the strength left to talk, so I figured I better get this done soon. I pulled out my Euthanasia Kit and pushed it in her direction.
"End of the line," I choked out, my vision fading to a tunnel. It was so dark in here, darker than it should be. Sound was receding. The only thing that remained was the pain. I looked at Robyn, watched her lips move. She was talking but I couldn't hear her. She held up the Kit, asking me something. I knew what she'd asked, though my ears heard only roaring like waves crashing on a beach. I nodded firmly.
She pressed the Kit into my thigh, and I felt a small sting before morphine and other things flooded into what was left of my bloodstream.
I wasn't afraid. I'd had a good run. I had lived years longer than I could have reasonably hoped for or expected. I'd found love both before and after the apocalypse, and had lovers since then. I'd found new friends, and lived in some amazing places. I'd learned and taught, and seen things most people wouldn't have believed. I'd done good things and bad, but I hoped the good dominated the scales. Killing that fucktard Corrone surely had to count as one of the best things ever.
As the drugs took hold the pain finally receded. I let out a breath and the tension I hadn't realised I was holding onto released. I relaxed, and the tunnel of my vision narrowed. All I could see now was Robyn leaning over me, tears in her eyes and unheard words on her lips. I could feel her hand, and squeezed it once before my strength faded entirely, to let her know I was alright. I wasn't hurting anymore.