by Joe Augustyn
Bronski realized how lucky he was to have her there. It made him feel better about leaving Cat in her care. “You should have plenty of firepower. But don’t fire a single round unless it’s absolutely life or death. Don’t make any noise and don’t even use your flashlights unless you have to. And whatever you do, don’t open the front door, even to peek outside.”
“How do you plan on getting out without being seen?”
“We’ll slip out very carefully so they don’t see us. If by some chance we’re spotted, we’ll make a noisy run to draw them away. Just stay hidden inside and wait for our return.”
“I’ll do my best to hold down the fort.”
“I know you will, Kerri. Thanks.”
“Funny,” Kerri smiled wanly. “I always thought it would be terrorists.”
Bronski nodded in solemn agreement, then turned to offer words of encouragement to Emma, but found Ryan already on it. The boy’s face was close to hers, whispering gentle words. Ryan gave her his LED keychain light and showed her how to switch it on, then pulled the Colt from his pocket and handed it to her. She hesitated, but he whispered something again, and she reluctantly accepted it.
Bronski was happy to see them bonding—it’ll give them both something to live for—but he wasn’t as happy with the idea of the girl having a loaded gun. Too late for that now though. No telling how she’d react if I tried to take it away.
He stepped up and looked her in the eye, as much to assess her state of mind as to offer a bit of paternal support. “You’re safe in here, Emma, you know that, right?”
Emma nodded half-heartedly.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” he continued. “Meanwhile I’m leaving Kerri in charge. I want you to listen to everything she says and follow her orders without question, understand? She’s trained to deal with emergency situations, coolly and logically. And whatever you do, do not fire that gun unless it’s absolutely necessary. Otherwise you’ll have every one of those things out there heading your way. Got that?”
“Yes sir.”
***
A minute later the guys were outside on the pier. As Bronski had hoped, the zombies had walked a fruitless circuit, then abandoned the amusement pier in search of meatier hunting grounds.
He and Ryan darted across the nearly vacant pier, ducking from cover to cover, avoiding the attention of the few remaining walkers.
They didn’t notice Sheriff Leeds watching them, hunkered out of sight behind the funhouse.
50
The rain was coming down hard as Ryan and Bronski reached the entrance of the pier at the edge of the boardwalk. They crouched behind a small ticket booth and peeked cautiously around the corner, assessing their situation.
The boardwalk was infested with the walking dead. They saw dozens of corpses dragging their sagging feet across the dull gray boards, mindlessly searching for victims. Which meant there were probably a hundred or more in the immediate vicinity.
“Jesus,” Ryan whispered, nervously clutching the shotgun in his sweaty palms. “We’ll never make it. They’re everywhere.”
Bronski put a finger to his lips, then pointed at the row of storefronts on the far side of the boardwalk. Ryan didn’t have a clue what he was implying, but was pretty sure he didn’t like it.
“When I start to run, you run,” Bronski whispered. “Stay close on my heels and do not fire your weapon under any circumstances. Got that?”
“Yeah, but—”
“No buts. You wanted to come along. If you’ve changed your mind, go back now. I can’t risk you jeopardizing this mission if you can’t follow orders.”
“Sorry,” Ryan murmured contritely. “No. Count me in. Whatever you say, you’re the boss.”
“Okay then. Get ready.” Bronski holstered his Sig and raised his AR-15 to his shoulder, taking aim across the pier.
Ryan’s heart thumped in his chest, so loud he was afraid the zombies might hear it over the patter of the rain. His stomach felt watery and his knees went weak. Jesus, what is he thinking? He’s only going to rile them up. For a second he considered turning tail and running back to the funhouse. But he didn’t move. It wasn’t bravery so much as curiosity to see what the trooper was planning.
Bronski waited until a dazzling web of lightning lit up the entire sky. He counted off two seconds then fired a single shot from his assault rifle. His timing was perfect—the sound of the gunshot was drowned by the deafening crack of thunder.
On the far side of the boardwalk, the high-powered bullet hit a large picture window at its base and the plate glass splintered into several large pieces. For a few seconds they hung suspended in the frame, but gravity and the wind soon took effect.
The shattering of glass rang through the night as the huge shards crashed down on the boardwalk. Every zombie within a hundred yards pivoted towards the sound. Like a herd of two-legged cattle they headed for the storefront as if someone had rung a dinner bell.
Ryan twitched like a track star ready to bolt, but Bronski held him back, watching and waiting as the herd closed in on the storefront. Finally the last straggling bodies arrived and pressed forward to join the crowd. Bronski waited patiently until they were all facing the open storefront. He poked Ryan in the ribs and darted from the pier onto the boardwalk, running in a low crouch, staying close to the ocean-side railing of the boardwalk. Ryan dashed after him, his heart in his throat.
Reaching the first set of steps leading to the beach, Bronski scampered down to the bottom and sat down to catch his breath.
Ryan dropped down beside him, relieved but queasy with adrenalin. Peeking up over the edge of the boardwalk he saw the mass of zombies at the storefront already starting to disperse, no longer fixated on the storefront. They wandered listlessly, staggering in circles, as lost as a hive of bees without a queen. They’d made it just in time.
He shifted his gaze to the ramp on the other side of the boardwalk, opposite where they were sitting. The head of a zombie rose into view. Another followed. A steady trickle of zombies were still arriving, coming up the nearest ramp. An involuntary sigh escaped his lips as he wondered how Bronski planned to get them past that horde. Bronski grabbed his collar and pulled him down, and signaled him with a finger to his lips.
Ryan’s heart skipped a beat as a zombie lumbered past, right above them on the boardwalk, just six feet away. Lowering his head he flattened himself on the steps, praying the thing would pass without seeing them.
51
Dammit, Leeds thought. They’ve split up the group. He was faced with a dilemma now and had to act fast. Luckily he had a perfect solution at hand.
He crept to the back of the funhouse and pried the lock off a small plywood panel. The hatch dropped open, revealing an emergency generator inside. Leeds remembered the gennie from a story his son had told back when he worked on the pier. A freak summer storm had knocked out the power and some loud-mouthed punk vacationing from the city who’d mocked the funhouse on his way in, had pissed his droopy-assed jeans when the lights went out while he was inside. The smart-mouthed thug tried to slip discreetly out the door in the darkness—just as the gennie kicked in. The outside lights flared on, exposing the puddle in his pants, and the crowd on the pier showered him with the laughter he earlier craved.
Leeds closed the choke on the unit and twisted the key. It sputtered, spat blue-tinted fumes, coughed uncertainly a few times, then finally kicked into gear. As its rhythmic humming started Leeds threw a master switch on a console beside it and the impact was instantaneous.
A string of blinking red lights that lined the funhouse overhang flared on and the devilish ringmaster sprang to life. “Ho ho, hee hee!” his recorded voice blared through the night from a pair of loudspeakers over the door. “Welcome to the Devils Den, my friends! Enter… if you dare!” The stentorian greeting repeated again and again as the mechanical ringmaster rocked back and forth on his heels and his impish canned laughter brayed across the pier.
Inside the building, the women felt
their hearts drop as the funhouse came to life. Demonic growls and witchy laughter echoed through the crooked black corridors. Dim bulbs flickered on, revealing dummy monsters hiding in nearby nooks, ready to spring forward when triggered by motion sensors.
“Oh my God, what’s happening?” Kerri gasped. She was stumped as to how the power could have come on, and knew the situation couldn’t be worse. The noise was certain to draw the ravenous walkers right to their door.
Cat sat up, alarmed. She was still conscious, but had swallowed some strong medication that Kerri had assured her would kick in soon. Now, instead of getting some much needed pain free rest, she faced a very different prospect.
“What’s happening?” cried Emma, hugging the Colt to her chest.
“Just calm down. The power came back on, that’s all,” said Kerri, eyeing the girl’s handgun warily. Jesus, how could that kid have been so clueless, giving her that gun? We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t blow her brains out. “It’s okay,” she continued. “Just let me go see what’s happening outside. Stay here. And stay calm.” She made a beeline for the entrance to peek outside. If they were lucky, she’d find the entire pier lit up, maybe the entire boardwalk. Maybe it’s the National Guard, she thought hopefully. Maybe they’re finally getting things under control.
A mechanical werewolf lunged with a roar as she passed, causing her heart to skip a beat. And it skipped again when a coffin lid flew open and a hissing vampire popped up.
Any optimism she had died a hasty death as soon as she peeked out the door. The funhouse was the only place with power, a noisy beacon that would surely bring unwanted company.
What the hell is going on? Did the guys do something stupid when they left?
Paranoia crept into her mind. Did they do it on purpose? Did they sacrifice us so they could get away?
No… don’t be crazy. Jesus, girl, hold it together.
Sickly fear washed over her as she spotted the first of the walking corpses shambling into view, unmistakable with its bloodstained shirt and heavy-footed gait. It came stumbling around the side of the carousel… and was followed by another. And another. There was no doubt about it—they were coming straight for the funhouse.
Kerri ducked inside and quickly pulled the door closed. Her mind raced wildly, trying to figure out what she could possibly do.
If she could somehow disable the power… but how? She didn’t have a clue as to how or why it could even be turned on. And by now it was too late anyway. They’re already coming. We’re trapped in here.
Her paranoia escalated, making her question her very sanity. The whole thing seemed a living nightmare. Evil and surreal. Like she’d died and gone to hell. How else could she possibly explain the power going on in the one place she happened to be?
She hurried back through the black-walled corridor, half-expecting to find her companions gone and herself alone in some private corner of hell. To her relief they were right where she’d left them. But it was meager relief at best.
She wasn’t in hell after all.
Just hell on earth.
***
Outside on the pier, Leeds crept along the side of the funhouse, half-hidden behind the wooden railing. He could see the stream of cadavers approaching, their attention focused on the mechanical ringmaster, whose rollicking movements and obnoxious bellowing were designed to attract attention.
Creeping to the funhouse door, Leeds pushed it open and stuffed a rag from his gear bag under the bottom edge to hold it open. Then he turned and slipped back along the railing before the walking dead could see him, ducking behind the building just as they arrived.
He waited and watched as they approached the loud-mouthed ringmaster and groped his faux flesh with their gnarled fingers. They soon realized he was merely an artificial dupe and turned, about to wander away.
Leeds cursed silently.
Then one of the ghouls hesitated, attracted by the sound of growling and cackles from inside the funhouse. He stood frozen for a moment, his rotting brain processing the new stimuli… then he stumbled up the wooden ramp and disappeared through the open doorway.
Soon a train of hungry cadavers were shuffling up the ramp.
That’s right, Leeds chuckled silently. Follow the goddamned leader.
52
Back on the beach staircase, Ryan and Bronski remained still as statues until the lifeless walker shuffled away. As soon as the coast was clear the trooper tugged the boy’s sleeve, and they descended the steps to the sand.
Bronski paused there, considering their next move. The nearest ramp to the city streets was fifty feet away across the boardwalk. To get there would be a death race. The herd had already lost interest in the shattered picture window and was scattered across the boardwalk. Without another major distraction they’d draw the zombies to them like pins to a magnet. It would be nearly impossible to get past them and even if they somehow managed to reach the other side, the stiff-legged walkers might not be so slow when they were chasing them down the ramp, with gravity helping them along.
He turned and gazed down the beach. A flash of lightning revealed another set of stairs a hundred yards away. He motioned to Ryan and they jogged the distance—but found zombies on the boardwalk there as well—and as far as they could see.
Ryan saw the look of consternation on the trooper’s face and half expected him to give up. Instead Bronski motioned him to follow and stepped into the darkness under the boardwalk. They swept the black void with their flashlights, aimed low so their beams wouldn’t slip through the boards above. Dawn was still hours away, and between flashes of lightning the unlit boardwalk was dark.
It was a relief to be out of the rain, but not much—icy blobs of water dripped through the boardwalk crevices. The sand beneath their feet was wet but solidly packed. They crossed through the darkness and reached the other side without incident, but found it sealed off with chain-link fencing that rose from the concrete abutments marking the end of the beach to the edge of the boardwalk above.
Bronski looked up and saw that the fence was firmly attached to the edge of the boardwalk. He swore under his breath. He’d left the multi-tool with its wire cutter in his tac bag back at the funhouse. He turned and stepped back and saw Ryan moving along the chain-link barrier, shining his light at the top. Bronski was about to chastise him but the boy turned and gestured him over. At the top of the fence was a gap where the chain-link had separated from the edge of the boardwalk.
Bronski squeezed Ryan’s shoulder and smiled.
“I’ll go first,” Ryan whispered.
“No. I’m heavier. If I can’t make it, there’s no point in you going over.” He handed his rifle to Ryan and removed his plastic poncho. Balling it up he jammed it into the back of his beltline, so it wouldn’t get chewed up on the fence.
It wasn’t an easy climb. The chain-link was old and saggy and it wobbled and swayed under his weight. The higher he climbed the unsteadier it became. It nearly threw him off when a supporting bolt snapped overhead and the fence swayed precariously, seemingly about to collapse. The metal squeaked noisily as a thousand rusty links rubbed against each other.
Bronski froze, clinging to the top of the fence. The swaying slowly stopped and the squealing links quieted. Finally the fence settled and for a moment all was silent.
A squishy footstep sounded in the darkness. Ryan turned towards the sound and switched on his flashlight. He almost fainted at the sight of several zombies wandering towards him under the boardwalk, coming at him from all sides. As the light flared on they seemed to react, quickening their wobbly steps.
“Jesus Christ kid, climb!” Bronski shouted. “Move!”
Ryan switched off the light and ran to the fence. Slinging the trooper’s assault rifle over his shoulder he paused to slip the shotgun under his belt, then finally started climbing.
Bronski watched from above as the zombies closed in. In a flicker of lightning he saw them reaching for the boy, who was moving as fast as he coul
d but was weighed down by the heavy guns. Bronski released his grip on the fence, dropping to the alleyway below.
Ryan cried out as a cold dead hand closed around his ankle. He tried to kick it off but it was surprisingly strong and tenacious. Its dead muscles worked mechanically, utilizing their full potential, not constrained by normal human limitations.
Bronski shoved the barrel of his pistol through the fence and shot it in the head. The thing went limp and dropped away. Ryan scrambled higher. Bronski shot another one that was close enough to grab at the boy, then he stepped back, scanning the alleyway around him for zombies drawn to the gunfire. Thankfully there were none—yet.
“Hurry up, Ryan!”
“I’m coming, hold on!” Ryan reached the top. As he rolled across the top he lost the shotgun, which slipped from his belt and dropped back under the boardwalk.
Bronski saw him pause. “Leave it! Come on!”
Ryan scrambled down, dropping the last eight feet. Bronski fired his pistol and Ryan looked around to see what he was shooting at. A handful of zombies were coming down the alleyway.
Bronski grabbed Ryan’s collar and jerked him to his feet. “Come on!”
***
A hundred yards away, Sheriff Leeds finished a hasty climb down the side of the pier and dropped quietly to the beach. He’d watched from the pier as the trooper and the boy slipped under the boardwalk and he knew exactly where they were headed. Satisfied that he’d sealed the women’s fate with his devious maneuver, he anticipated finishing the job with two well-timed gunshots. He’d get them while they slogged through the flooded streets on their way to the state police station. The trooper would go first. Then the boy, as he floundered in a panic.
Leeds smiled as he started his trek down the beach, following the footsteps in the sand. Two quick shots and his night would be over. Then he could get himself to civilization and the cleanup would begin. And he’d go down in history as the hero who rang the alarm.