by T. A. Sorsby
‘We were…’ Carl said, ‘Hopefully will be again. Look, why don’t you come inside, have a drink or two?’
‘We came because we thought you had contact with an evacuation group,’ Neville said, ‘not because we thought you were throwing a kegger.’
‘I’ll tell you everything, if you come inside.’ Sachs said, looking at the fence, his face turning paler.
Zombies were starting to come up against the fence, putting their fingers in through the stiff wires or beating against them with their fists. The moaning was growing louder as more of them came into view around the houses. Now there were only about half a dozen, but if the moans were bringing in more of them, we could get stuck in here in no time.
‘We’re going to get trapped in here,’ Laurel said, reading my mind and still holding her rifle ready, ‘that fence looks tough but it won’t keep a hundred of them out.’
‘They’ve come before,’ Sachs said, ‘if you go inside and turn off the lights they go away when something else comes along.’
‘What came along last time?’ I asked.
‘Someone started that burglar alarm. If we’re lucky they’ll go back to it if we-’
‘If we go inside.’ Neville said, giving me a longer look this time. I understood it.
This guy was way too keen on getting us to go in there with him, or so it seemed. That or he was just really scared of that fence coming down. Either way, we were keeping our weapons to hand. This was our only lead on CDC evacuation, so we had to risk it.
I broke open the top of my pistol and shook out the last bullet into my hand, and then put the speedloader in just how Neville had told me. I clicked the weapon closed but didn’t put the gun away, just left it out at my side and slipped the spare bullet into my pocket with the other speedloaders.
‘We’ll go inside then,’ I said, ‘looks like it’s about to rain anyway.’
‘Great! The girls are going to be so happy to know someone else is out there.’ Sachs enthused.
We followed Sachs into the building, and when his back was turned I saw Neville quietly slip his pistol back out of its holster and hold it at his lower back. Laurel and Damian weren’t giving any clues that they knew what me and Neville were doing, but I knew they weren’t stupid.
Something was twigging my instincts again about Carl Sachs. Not in the same was as at Katy’s house, or with the dogs, but something else. Sachs wasn’t being forthcoming with any information, not outside anyway, and he seemed to want to get us in here rather badly.
‘So how many are in your group?’ Neville asked, as we walked through the darkened reception area, to a set of stairs behind the desk. Offices went off in both directions on the ground floor, the places I’d delivered to before.
‘Eight. No there were eight. Six, in total.’ Sachs corrected, ‘Conrad and Pieter are out at the moment, so it’s just me and the girls back here, holding up.’
‘You got a lot of firepower?’ Neville pressed, digging for information, probably trying to tell if Sachs was playing it straight with him by using his super-security-guard senses.
‘Mary has her old shotgun, but the boys took their guns with them when they left. It’s the fence that keeps the dead out.’ Sachs said, sounding downright relieved now we were inside.
He led us up to the second floor, where we emerged into another dimly lit corridor, thanks to the skylights. To the left were the toilets and a maintenance room, but we went right, past recording booths and private offices where frosted glass turned everything beyond into a blurry black shape. Neville eyed them warily.
Windows overlooked the car park and the gathering zeds at the gate, but I didn’t stop to stare. We turned the corner in the L-shape, where there were more offices and closed doors further along the corridor, but we stopped at a door marked ‘Meeting Room’ in black etching, where candlelight flickered against the translucent glass.
Carl opened the door and I tried to take in as much information as I could, just in case something nefarious was about to happen. There were two women in the room, one with a double-barrelled shotgun on the table not far from her, and the other with no obvious weapons. The table was littered with tinned food, camping utensils and cooking equipment, except for between the two women, where a patch had been cleared for a card game.
‘One missing.’ Neville muttered to me as Carl walked ahead into the room, out of earshot.
Neville was right. If there were six of them all together, two away, and three in this room, there was still someone else here; waiting in the dark rooms, behind frosted glass. Waiting to catch us off guard…That, or they were in the bathroom.
‘Everyone, this is Beth, one of our interns at GCR,’ Sachs said, gesturing gracefully at the blonde woman of the pair.
She was dressed in a pencil skirt and smart white shirt with a suit jacket and fake-tan; standard office attire. Kinda strange at a time like this. She even had her hair and makeup done, but I guess some people are just like that, especially young girls with something to prove. She flashed us a look that was pretty hard to read. Somewhere between suspicion and relief.
‘And this is Mary, who came to us just yesterday.’ Sachs continued, gesturing at the other woman who was dressed as a polar opposite to Beth; worn dungarees and a red chequered shirt, with her straw-brown hair pulled back into a bun. She was probably in her early fifties, with a tan from hours working in the sun, not sitting in a salon. She gave us a nod and put her cards down.
‘Beth, Mary, this is…’ Sachs said, opening the floor for us.
‘Captain Kelly.’ I said, stepping forward first, ‘This is my team. Neville Roberts, Damian Grant and Laurel Daniels.’
Maybe if I gave the impression we meant business, whatever trouble Sachs had planned wouldn’t go down, if he did have any planned at all. We could have just been paranoid.
‘You’re with the CDC?’ Beth asked, sounding a little hopeful.
‘No, ma’am.’ Neville said, giving her a nod and not just taking my lead, but running a marathon with it. ‘We’re working with local law enforcement,’ he said with a professional tone, ‘here to see if the claims Mr Sachs made on the radio are true. Have you really been in contact with the CDC? Have you arranged evacuation?’ – Local law enforcement he said. The Police? With my hair? They must have thought I was undercover in a garage band.
‘Police? Wow.’ Sachs said, genuinely without a trace of sarcasm, taking a seat at the head of the long table, ‘Come in, sit down, help yourself to a refreshment – there must be something in this pile from the top shelf. Or can you not drink on duty?’
‘We’re on a tight schedule. Maybe next time, Mr Sachs.’ I said, noticing how none of them answered Neville. ‘We need to ascertain when the CDC is coming to evacuate your group.’
‘Sit down, please, I’ll tell you the story.’ Sachs said, motioning to the seats, ‘It won’t take long.’
I gave everyone the nod, and we took up seats down the side of the table, across from the women, with me sat at the head, next to Sachs and closest to the door. I rested my gun on my knee, aimed roughly at his crotch, and I guessed Neville was next to me, aiming his gun at Mary, the one with the shotgun beside her.
‘After the state of emergency was declared,’ Sachs began, ‘I stockpiled supplies up here, in the studio. It’s safer than my house and I have the broadcast tower here, still powered by the emergency generator. I figured I could do some good, keep everyone’s spirits up until this all blew over.
‘But after a while,’ he swallowed, looking down at the table, ‘I realised that this wasn’t just a virus…I let someone in through the fence, hiding a bite. After they died, we put the body in one of the offices until we knew what to do,’ he said, looking at Beth whose eyes were darting from us newcomers, to the door. Hmm.
‘He came back… about an hour later, started banging on the door, wailing. Conrad had to put him down…carry the body outside of the fence.’ He said, clearing his throat, ‘But after that, the CDC cont
acted us through the relay, a unit commander for their task force. He said that they were evacuating the cities, setting up refugee centres, so we were to get as many people to come here as we could…
‘But as you can see, there aren’t many of us. Maybe some tried to get here and couldn’t make it, or maybe just not that many people can hear the radio anymore. How did you hear it?’ he added, excitedly.
‘Our ATV.’ Damian said, ‘Precinct doesn’t have any power.’
‘Fantastic.’ Sachs beamed, ‘Perhaps more people have taken to their cars and heard about us.’
‘Mr Sachs,’ Neville interrupted, ‘when we were outside you made it sound as if the CDC were no longer in contact with you. When is the last time you spoke to them?’
‘Last night,’ he replied, ‘we’re supposed to check in three times a day, seven in the morning, one in the afternoon, and ten at night. Since the war, all radio stations are required to maintain two-way towers for emergencies. Ours was outdated, we were waiting on replacement parts.’
‘What do you need to get the receiver working again?’ I asked, ‘Maybe we have it.’
‘They, Conrad and Pieter,’ he stressed, ‘are already out there, searching that hardware place near the new supermarket, they think they can bodge something together. Kind of you to offer though, but I think what we really need now are numbers for safety.’
‘When do you expect to have your communications back up?’ Neville asked, ignoring his last comment.
‘By check-in tonight.’ He smiled, looking relieved.
‘That’s promising.’ Neville said sternly, ‘Let’s hope you can get your receiver back.’
‘You said there had been eight of you.’ I pressed, ‘You lose more to infection?’
‘Eight. Yes, I mean, no,’ Sachs faltered, nothing like as confident as his radio persona, ‘one couple went out to get supplies, they live nearby and thought they could be back before long. We haven’t seen them since…assumed the worst had happened.’
There was a moment of silence, as Sachs looked down at the table. Neville’s expression was completely neutral, but I knew he’d be taking it all in.
‘So Mr Sachs. Carl. I feel as though I need to ask,’ Laurel said, breaking the silence and planting her finger down with a look at Sachs. ‘Where’s your sixth man?’
*
Twenty One
‘Sixth man?’ Sachs asked, smiling nervously, ‘Did I say there were six of us? Oh I’m sorry, I meant five. There were six. That man Conrad had to kill, you see.’
Alarm bells started ringing in my head, and I thumbed the hammer back on my pistol. Neville had been adjusting his position in his chair, and stopped halfway through the motion, holding his breath.
‘Shit, that de time?’ Damian said, looking down at his wrist, where he wore nearly a dozen bangles but no watch, ‘We got to be reporting into de lieutenant.’
‘Right.’ I said, standing up to my feet so quickly the chair wobbled precariously behind me. ‘Mason will be pissed.’
‘Leaving a-already?’ Beth stuttered, leaning forward in her chair, her eyes flicking to the doorway again. Why weren’t her eyes going to the shotgun?
‘They’ll be back.’ Mary said, reaching across and putting a hand over Beth’s, which seemed to calm her a little.
‘Okay, alright, I understand, officers.’ Sachs said, saying the word ‘officers’ a little louder than normal, like he was making allowances for the hard of hearing.
Sachs led us out of the building, I took a position walking next to him, while Neville brought up the rear, guns still out and at our sides – we didn’t care if Sachs saw. Those alarms of mine didn’t stop ringing until we were out of the building, and Carl was seeing us off.
While we were inside, the rain had started up at a steady pace, but it hadn’t deterred the zombies one bit. Thirty or more were clustered around the fence on the side of the houses, but the mob was growing slowly, pressing up against the gate.
‘Mind if I talk to you a moment, Mr Sachs?’ Neville asked, keeping up his professional airs. He took Sachs off to one side, while the three of us waited by the 4x4.
‘Somethin ain’t right in there,’ Damian said, before I could. ‘Not just talking about keeping de numbers straight.’
‘Eight guys. Six. Five…’ Laurel nodded at him. ‘Couldn’t wait to get us in, lapped up the police cover, and with you two here, we ain’t exactly convincing.’
‘Must be desperate.’ The big man said, his eyes flicking over to the fence, and the blocked gate. ‘Speaking of desperate…’
Laurel seemed to know what to do. She trotted over to the gate, whistling like you might at a dog, and running the tip of her rifle over the fence with a metallic clicking sound. The zeds pressed themselves against the mesh fence with renewed interest, feverish moans taking on an edge of…anticipation.
‘Gods, what’s she doing?’ Damian asked, glancing back and forth between us.
Clattering her rifle along the fence, she led the zombies away from the gate and around to the left side, splitting our undead audience between the left and right sides – but leaving the gate cleared.
‘I know they not getting through any time soon,’ Damian said to her, ‘but what de hell was that?’
‘They’re thick as anything,’ she said, defensive, ‘give them bait and they’ll go for it every time. About the smartest I’ve seen them get is knowing the difference between a door and a wall, but they can’t seem to tell the gate from the rest of the fence.’
‘So you’re the zed whisperer?’ I asked just as Neville and Carl Sachs started heading back our way.
‘Come back soon, alright?’ Sachs said, his voice wavering slightly. ‘We’ll be checking in tonight.’
‘We’ve got to leave if you want us to come back.’ Laurel said, not even trying to sound polite.
‘Yes, of course. Safe travels!’ Sachs said, closing the door to the building, and scurrying off behind the reception desk.
We climbed up into our ride. In the back, Neville kept his gun out, and despite the rain, Laurel wound her window most of the way down, leaning out to look at GCR.
‘We even thinking of coming back here?’ Damian asked, as he turned us around to face the gate.
‘Something really isn’t kosher in there.’ Laurel said, eyes fixed on the windows of the building, ‘He was giddy when we showed up, but kept his mouth shut until he had us inside. What did you two talk about?’ Laurel added, glancing at Neville.
‘I subtly asked him if there was a reason he felt he couldn’t tell me anything. You know, the, “blink twice if you’re being coerced” technique.’ He replied.
‘Result?’ she asked, resting her rifle on the open window, pointed vaguely back towards the radio station.
‘Inconclusive. His face screwed up, but he didn’t say anything more about it. Or blink twice. I don’t think we should come back here. The sixth man’s in there, and he wasn’t just shy. The way that girl’s eyes were all over, way she couldn’t sit still. Something was going on.’
‘What your guess?’ Damian asked, flicking his eyes up to the rear-view. The gates hasn’t opened yet, and I could feel the tension rising.
‘Could be they’re there against their will.’ Neville shrugged, ‘Just a gut feeling, it’s not like we’ve got hard evidence. Sachs couldn’t remember how many were in his group, so either he’s so badly frazzled he genuinely doesn’t remember, or he’s just using his best guess as to how many people are keeping him there.’
‘They’re our only link to evacuation.’ I sighed, relieved as the gates began to open. ‘I don’t like it, but we’ll have to go back. Tomorrow. When we have more guns.’ I added, with a look over the seat to Neville.
‘You admitting you were wrong about not needing guns for a simple recon job?’ he asked.
‘It got complicated.’ I bit my tongue.
We’d gotten out of there unscathed and as far as I was concerned, that was a success. But I didn’t like th
e thought of going back there unprepared. If what Neville said was true, there could be a handful of bad sorts hanging around that place putting the pressure on DJ Sachs. In a city of Greenfield’s size there were bound to be all kinds of crooks, and they’d want to get evacuated as much as anyone else.
Laurel wound her window up before Damian drove through the gates, only then did I realise she didn’t have it aimed out for zombies. He gave the engine some gas and we clipped the first zed that tried to come through, sending it spinning onto the pavement.
It seemed they knew the difference between gate and fence when it started to open up, but the all-terrain battering ram ploughed on down the road, the zeds turning to follow us, coming away from the fence. Guess we were the new distraction.
I set my gun back into safety and manoeuvred it into my pocket as we took the same roads back the way we’d came. They were desolate this time, not a single zombie on them. Damian sped us back into the woods before settling to a safer speed.
‘Pawnshop then?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. Let’s get some guns.’ I said, with a little smile.
Ownership of firearms wasn’t exactly uncommon in Voisin, but you couldn’t find a gun store in every town. First, to own a gun you have to have completed your National Service, one or two years spent in the Republic’s standing armed forces, the Territorials. Some people went career with it, but most people looking to stay in the military joined a private military company, better pay and training but higher risk – and if you believed their detractors, less scruples.
Your service papers let you apply for a firearms licence, but that’s still not the end of it. After that you’ve got a written and practical competency test – repeated every five years - a thirty day administration period and once you’ve purchased a firearm you need to keep your address current on the census so an inspector can complete an annual safety check to make sure you’re storing them correctly. Every six months, if you’ve got kids under sixteen at your address. Most people didn’t bother.
We listened to GCR on the way back to the flats. A few songs played before Carl Sachs’ voice came over the airwaves.