by T. A. Sorsby
‘Seems a waste to leave them, after we’re all dead.’ The dying man said, blearily looking up from his seat on the porcelain throne.
‘You might be dying, but we haven’t decided if the other one is.’ I told him. It came out harsher than I intended.
‘Someone survived?’ he wheezed, surprised.
‘Was bringing you a sandwich,’ I paused, suddenly feeling a little apologetic, ‘sorry, that kind of went on the floor when we shot at him, but he’ll be fine once the mace wears off.’
Neville gave me a look, as if to say “cut the small talk”.
‘Right,’ I acknowledged him. ‘Mr Soldier-man. We’re here for a line on evacuation, but when we were last here there was a problem with the receiver. You get it fixed?’
He nodded. ‘Scrapped a news van we found, rigged something up.’
‘Back in touch with the CDC?’ Neville asked for me.
‘They said backup’s not coming for us,’ the soldier grumbled, ‘we have to get to them. Can’t spare the manpower.’
‘Makes you think what state they’re in?’ I wondered aloud. ‘Where were you supposed to go?’
‘VBC Studios.’ He said, trying to clear his throat, but having little success. His voice was becoming raspier by the word, as if he were being strangled. ‘Said, soon as we could…they’re leaving by tomorrow night…’
The soldier began to slide forwards, off the toilet and onto the tiled floor, supporting himself on all-fours while wracking coughs shook his body. Blood marked the tiles with each heaving convulsion, splattering them like somebody flicking paint at a canvas.
‘Please!’ he choked between coughs.
Neville already had his gun to hand, but I placed a hand over the top of his barrel before he could raise it. I put up my revolver, and looked Neville in the eye.
‘It’s my turn.’ I told him.
Maybe he was right, it’d be easier to kill someone when you didn’t know them, even if it was a mercy to pull that trigger. I guess I was about to find out. Even though this man had fired on us, tried to kill us, nobody deserved to go through such a horrible death, only to come back as something even worse.
I pointed the gun.
I pulled the trigger.
Crack.
My ears rang with the gunshot, echoing around the tiled toilets as if we’d been standing in a cave. Neville said something, but I couldn’t hear it. He was right. It was easier. Even the rolling unease in my stomach was beginning to subside now. Is that fucked up? Killing somebody calmed me down?
I tried not to dwell on it - told myself I did him a favour, perhaps more than he would have done for me, had the tables been turned. Neville followed just a little behind me as we walked together out into the corridor, where Damian was standing on his own two feet - though supported by Lucile and Anita.
‘We’re going to have a nightmare getting back to the truck,’ Anita shook her head, ‘Obviously we can’t get him under the fence, so even going the direct route isn’t an option.’
‘Hurt enough already…’ Damian grimaced agreement.
‘I’ll lead the zeds off, and somebody can get the 4x4 through the gate.’ I volunteered. Neville was about to protest, but I got out in front of him, ‘Yeah, I’d be glad of backup, but you won’t talk me out of it, we need to get going, fast.’
‘Actually, was going to ask why we don’t just take their SUV?’ he suggested.
‘He’s not critical,’ Anita reminded us, ‘but the sooner we can get an IV running and re-do his stitching, the better.’
‘Me scars are gonna have scars, butcher.’ Damian snarked.
‘Whiner.’ Lucile chided, ‘Take a few bullets and you go all soft on me.’
‘Be ready to leave in five,’ I told everyone, ‘got to finish up here. Meet you downstairs.’
Neville went ahead of them on the stairs, should Damian fall, though between Anita and Lucile he had plenty of support - even if Lucile’s height meant he was more leaning on her than being carried. While they went their way, I went the other, to fetch Carl Sachs.
He and Beth were still in that back office with Mary’s body, some kind of supply room now. Boxes of tinned food and dry pasta adorned every surface, with a camping stove and various utensils set up on the desk like a rudimentary kitchen.
‘I’m sorry for your loss. Truly. But we’ve got to leave soon, see to our wounded.’ I sighed, ‘I have to know first…are the CDC really at the VBC Studio?’
‘That’s what their Lieutenant said,’ Sachs reported, standing up to meet me, leaving Beth behind the desk with her tissues and tears. ‘They’re expecting to be gone before sundown tomorrow. But I’m not going anymore.’
‘What? Why?’ I floundered, ‘I was going to ask if you two wanted to come with us, once we’d seen to Damian.’
‘Somebody’s got to keep the signal going,’ he said, a glint in his eye, ‘tell everyone else where to go, what to do, how to fight the rotters. I can’t do that anywhere but here.’
‘Your intern?’ I asked.
‘Terrified,’ he said, dropping his voice though it was unlikely she wouldn’t hear him from ten feet away, ‘hasn’t been out of the building or looked from a window since she got here. She went out there, she’d be paralyzed.’
‘Then what do you want me to do with the last soldier?’
‘Conrad. Let him be.’ Sachs nodded, ‘He was the best of them, or at least, far from the worst. We need someone who can shoot, protect us. Without Ipsom, he might remember his job was to protect people.’
‘What if he wants to go to the CDC too?’
Sachs chewed it over for a moment. ‘Then there’s nothing I can do to stop him disappearing in the middle of the night. But I don’t think he will.’
‘I’ll go talk to him,’ I said, offering my hand out to shake. Sachs grasped it. ‘We’ll keep the radio tuned. Update us, for as long as your generator holds.’
He smiled and nodded. ‘Good luck out there. Keep the doctor’s bag, call it a parting gift. But you ever need a place to run back to, we’ll be here…hopefully.’
‘We’re leaving in a couple minutes, borrowing the SUV but we’ll bring it back. Could you come down and get the gates for us?’
‘If you’re taking their truck, no need, senior staff had remotes for the gate - juniors had to make do with a code,’ he added, going to write some digits on a piece of paper. ‘The truck has my remote, had to ditch my car a while back, but keep the code as well, should the batteries die.’
‘Thanks, Mr Sachs,’ I smiled, glancing back down to Mary, ‘I hope everything works out here. I’ll see you later, with any luck.’
I turned and left, walking down the bullet-pecked corridor and over the broken glass, into the office where the soldier sat, back against the wall, knees drawn up to his chest. From his expression, I could tell his eyes must still burn, but he opened them enough to gaze up at me.
‘Is it time then?’ Conrad the soldier asked.
‘Time for what?’
‘Finish me off…’ he shrugged.
‘I thought about it,’ I told him, ‘you shot at us, and one of your squaddies has put one of mine in the hospital. You get how dangerous a trip that’s going to be?’
‘Shit,’ he spat, ‘he might have been better off dying, for your sake.’
I ignored the twinge of anger that brought on, tilting my head and trying to smile it off. ‘But despite all that, I’m going to let you live.’
He frowned, like he didn’t believe me.
‘I wasn’t lying when I said we didn’t want to kill anybody. We’re just trying to survive too, leave the city, and get somewhere safer. So I’ll do you a deal.’ I added, echoing last night.
‘I’m listening…’ he said, leaning forwards slightly, letting his legs drop so he was spread out, rather than hunched up.
‘Stay here. Protect Sachs, Beth, and anyone else who comes up to those gates. Help him keep the generator running, the signal up, and help him keep food
on the table.’
‘I do all that, and what?’
I knelt down beside him, and dropped my voice. ‘You get to fulfil those oaths you swore, to protect the people of the Republic in times of dire need, to stand above the rest and say that you are a warden - a protector. Voison’s first and last line of defence, the shield that sheltered our people during the air raids, the high wall that blocked landing after landing on the coasts. You get to live. Maybe even make up for everything you were a part of here. Be a hero, if you’re lucky.’
Holy shit, his eyes were actually welling up.
‘Okay, yeah,’ Conrad sniffed, ‘I’m game.’
I rose up, and rolled a twinge out of my shoulder. ‘The SUV. Where are the keys?’
‘Sun-visor, we wanted them to hand should we need to escape in a hurry.’ Conrad replied, wiping his eye with a pained expression. Ah, maybe he wasn’t crying at my little speech, he had just been pepper-sprayed after all. Damn, I’d thought I was getting better at talking a good game.
‘I’m going to borrow it, to take Damian to the hospital, but I’ll bring it back.’
‘Whatever you say, man.’ Conrad grunted, standing.
‘I’ll leave your gun at reception. I doubt you’ll shoot me in the back, but can’t be sure. Sorry.’
‘That’s fair. I wouldn’t, but it’s fair.’
‘We can’t spare any more ammo, but neither can you.’
‘Hmm.’ Conrad thought for a moment. ‘Knife. Combat knife. We all have them in our boots, six inches or so. Be enough to go through that fence and maybe into a rotter’s face. If you come back, the fence might be cleared, could roll straight in.’
‘Way better than crawling under the fence. We’d appreciate that. But don’t put yourself in too much risk, they could still scratch you if they get a finger through. Not sure if that’s infectious, but…’
‘I’ll wear gloves. Maybe even put the knife on the end of a broom.’ He shrugged again, ‘I suggested all this crap to them, but did they listen? Unwilling to adapt from the shoot and loot strategy…’ he trailed off, and sniffed again. ‘Been a hell of a day. Guess I’ll see you if you come back with the vehicle.’
‘I will. See you later.’ I nodded, bidding my farewell.
Sachs seemed to trust this guy, at least a little. Knowing he had a knife in his boot made me reluctant to turn my back on him, but I tried to keep my cool as I crunched my way out of the room, closing the door behind me - just in case. I also grabbed the submachine gun from the pool of blood around the near-decapitated soldier at the end of the corridor, should Conrad get any ideas about spraying any remaining rounds at us. I’d leave it at reception.
The rest of our little group had assembled at the front doors, and were looking out at the zeds gathered around the fence. Their numbers had grown by perhaps a dozen, brought here by the gunshots. That left quite a mass of bodies to plough through, but for something as big as the SUV, it shouldn’t have been a problem.
‘The last soldier?’ Neville quizzed, ‘I didn’t hear any gunshots.’
‘DJ Sachs vouched for him, and despite my ever-increasing paranoia, I think he’s sorry for shooting at us. Hey,’ I pointed a finger at Lucile before she could jump in, ‘we didn’t come here to kill, and we’re all alive, for now. Conrad, the soldier, might keep Sachs and Beth alive a while longer. That’s good, right?’
‘They not coming?’ Lucile asked, sucking on her teeth, ‘Neville told us about the CDC’s big move-out.’
‘Sachs is going to keep the radio up as long as he can, public service announcements, make sure everyone whose still out there knows where to go, and how to fight.’
‘Can we be making tracks, yeah?’ Damian grumbled from where he lent on the reception desk, ‘I don’t want to rush anyone, but…’
‘He’s right, we’d better be moving.’ Anita said, gesturing outside, where it was beginning to rain, ‘You got the keys?’
‘They’re in the front,’ I told her, ‘Leave his gun here, he’ll need it when we’re gone.’
‘Trusting you,’ she raised an eyebrow at me, pulling the piece out the back of her jeans, and setting it on the desk.
We made for the door.
*
Forty
‘Gate remote is in the SUV, but I’ve got the codes too,’ I added, patting my jacket pocket, ‘Neville, you able to give a shout to our ladies across the way while we get into position?’
‘They coming with, or staying put?’ he asked, opening the door and holding it for us.
It was a good question. Mercy Hospital was the centre of Greenfield’s outbreak, but County General had been the scene of some pretty gruesome shit too, from everything Anita had said, and as evidenced by Katy not being here.
‘Not sure,’ I muttered, as we gathered under the shelter just beyond the doorway. I let out a long sigh, scuffing my feet. ‘Neville. I don’t want to bring Morgan to the hospital - it’s going to be crazy dangerous. But the longer we wait, the more trouble Damian might be in. We can’t afford the time dropping her off back at the Towers and she can’t drive herself.’
‘I ain’t leaving him,’ Lucile said, tapping her recovered bat on the ground, ‘Anita neither – Can you drive?’ she directed at me. ‘Could Laurel take her back?’
‘Laurel would never go for it, if there’s a fight, she’ll be there. I brought you all into that fight D,’ I told him, ‘so I’m not bailing now.’
‘I’d have to take her back,’ Neville nodded, ‘but you’d be down a shooter.’
‘If you want to keep your girl safe - go mon.’ Damian groaned, ‘If it too bad in there for four fighters, five won’t be much better.’
‘But what about six?’ Neville scowled, eyes fixed on the zeds gathering by the gate.
‘You don’t mean…?’ I asked.
‘I don’t think she’ll shoot any of us in the back,’ Neville said, like he was talking himself into it, ‘and damn, we can’t afford the time.’
I looked at Damian, bloodstained and battered. ‘Looks like we’re doing this - okay. Neville, go fetch the girls, you should be alright to get out the way we came in, then take Damian’s ride.’
‘Not a scratch, yeah?’ Damian said, managing a pained smile, ‘Keys are on top of the fridge, remember?’
‘Meeting you on the road to Mercy?’ Neville asked.
‘We’ll be out quicker, I’ll slow down to let you catch up.’ Anita nodded, ‘I’ll drive our side.’
With that, I offered Damian my shoulder, and helped Anita support him to the SUV. The back window may have been shattered, but the soldiers had cleared out the glass already, save a couple sparkling pieces on the foot-mats.
It wasn’t quite such a steep step as into Damian’s tank, but getting the large man up was a challenge, narrated by his grunts and hisses of pain. We had him sat up in the left side back seat, Lucile in the middle, holding his hand, while I called shotgun for Anita - literally, I had Damian’s shotgun, safety on, barrel down, between my legs. The rain had speckled the headrests in the back with the odd drop, but neither of them mentioned it.
I told her about the keys, so Anita flipped down the sun visor on the driver’s side and caught them as they slid out. There were a load of different keys on the ring, but only one of them was clearly for the vehicle. Where’d they get this thing from? It definitely wasn’t military, or it’d be more like Damian’s.
I opened the glovebox to get the gate remote, a blue plastic thing about half the size of a phone, but I waited for Anita to drive us into gate-position first, reversing out of the parking spot and coming head-on about fifteen feet back from the gate.
‘They’re going to flood in after us, as soon as that gates start to open,’ she said, ‘hope nobody’s at the windows behind us, we need all eyes on us.’
‘Ready?’ I asked her, gesturing with the remote.
‘Give Nev and the ladies another thirty seconds,’ she replied, running her hands over the steering wheel and down to the
gear-stick, familiarising herself with the feel of the truck, ‘Get myself ready and set too…’ she added, adjusting the position of her mirrors, though I doubt that’s what she meant.
County General. Anita had made it sound like hell, and that was the least screwed of the two hospitals. She’d made it out of there, fought her way to a motorway checkpoint, losing people all the time, only to find out it was worse on the other side. Going back to County, she would have been reliving the whole thing. Throw that on top of burying her family and patching up some serious post-firefight injuries, I was surprised she was keeping it together at all. I put my hand over hers, on the steering wheel.
‘Everything’s turned out pretty shitty,’ I said, waving at the zombies, ‘but we’ve made it this far - and we’re gonna go the distance. We’ll be with the CDC by tomorrow night. We’re getting out of here. We’re going to be fine. Okay?’
Anita half-turned her head, and sniffed back a tear. ‘Yeah, I’m alright. Going to need another breakdown later, but I’ll hold for now.’
I squeezed her hand before letting go. ‘Ready to do this?’
‘As I’ll ever be.’ She cringed.
I clicked the little ‘doors open’ symbol on the remote, and after a moment’s hesitation, the bisected gate began to slide open. The first of the zombies, a woman in a once-fluffy, once-white bathrobe, was already reaching a hand through the widening gap, and stumbled forwards as the gap became wider, the rest of them piling in behind, coming straight for us.
As soon as the gates looked wide enough, Anita revved the engine, setting off hard, slamming into the front rank of the miniature mob and not stopping there. She ploughed through, tyres mounting over fallen zeds, crunching up and down as they encountered resistance and pushed on through it. It was like being on a really bumpy country lane.
The SUV pressed on, through the gates and through more zeds, coming to clear road after only a few seconds. I looked behind us, craning my head over the seats. Lucile’s height made it easier to see out of the smashed back window, even with her sat in the middle.