by A. P. Fuchs
They proceeded to a large brick and wooden structure further into the town proper, each small home she passed a reminder of the devastation the undead caused: broken windows, some houses burned to mere ashy skeletons, others with doors open and blood streaked down the front steps, bodies lying in a heap on the porches of others, the smell thick and sour. At the large building, the three climbed the metal staircase, which led to a tall metal door around a story and a half up. There was a window beside the door and the quick image of a short man in behind the glass wearing a navy blue workman’s jumpsuit and matching baseball cap. The man opened the slider on the door, said nothing, then opened the door completely.
“Welcome,” the short Asian man said. He waved them in.
“No security?” Billie asked Sven over her shoulder.
“They were expecting us and know what we look like.”
Right ahead was a balcony railing which overlooked a large single room with crates, tables, wire mesh booths, tools, army personnel and two helicopters near the warehouse entrance.
Billie furrowed her brow. “Whoa, ’kay, where are we? Feels like I’m in some kind of Chinese market.”
“Japanese,” Sven said.
“But we’re not anywhere near Japan.” She raised an eyebrow. “Are we?”
He shook his head.
“We try to make good on promise,” the Asian man said.
“Promise?” Billie asked.
“What’s word I’m looking for? Not ‘promise’ . . . on delivery. We try and make promise good on delivery.”
“Delivery of what?” Would’ve been nice had Nathaniel briefed her more specifically on where she was going and who she’d be talking to. All she knew was she was supposed to recruit and recover.
“We have weapons,” the man said.
Sven held out his hand to the man. “What’s your name?”
“Akiyo,” the man said and gave a deep nod.
“Sven,” he said, pointing to himself, then to her, “Billie.” He also introduced Bastian.
“Nice to meet you,” Akiyo said, taking Billie’s hand in his and shaking it quickly as if he’d been excited to meet her this whole time.
Down below, Japanese chatter floated on the air in a block of sound Billie found intriguing and captivating. She always thought that if she were to learn an exotic language, Japanese or Chinese would top that list.
Sven gave her a nudge, shaking her from her thoughts. Akiyo was further down the walkway, heading to a set of stairs in the corner. Billie, Sven, and Bastian followed and went down the metal, cage-like staircase with him.
“Here we make bomb,” Akiyo said.
“Pearl Harbor bomb?” Sven asked.
Billie shot her elbow into his ribs. “Not cool,” she quietly muttered to him.
Akiyo didn’t seem pleased either. “No, not quite. Would never recreate that which caused us so much pain.”
“Oh,” Sven said.
She was surprised at Sven’s ignorance, but let it go. Who knew what kind of education the big man had prior to the zombie uprising?
“We make own bomb. Big bomb,” Akiyo said.
“Why make new ones? Can’t you scavenge from your old country?”
“Headquarters in lockdown. No infiltration. We tried. After Japanese army fell, emergency procedures set in place so enemies could not steal our technology and use it against us once the war with the monsters was over.”
“And you know this how?”
“Cousin was part of system. He made it through first wave of defense, but his squadron fell during the second attack. He and a few others survived. Eventually, we connected. Unfortunately, he died on a raid to get supplies from food chain warehouse. He was good man.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Billie said.
“Yah,” said Sven.
Akiyo simply nodded then led them through the main level.
As they walked past the work benches and tables, Billie started to feel a surge of hope finally brewing up within her. She was no military expert by any means—even with the fighting she’d had to do since leaving the Haven—but could see by the number of guns and what appeared to be remote explosive devices that there could be a chance to ending the undead’s reign forever. That’s if they don’t get all supernatural on us.
“We have men and women ready. All except for four are inexperienced soldiers and have trained from the ground-up for past five months. We have been coordinating with other underground defense hubs to ascertain proper time and place to attack. So far, we face several options of offense, one being to cover ground piece by piece, territory by territory.”
“One of the things I’ve never understood is why the armies and stuff before didn’t just fly over everything and bomb the heck out of the dead?”
“Plan overruled,” Sven said. “There were defectors, but I heard story that too many bombs would destroy Earth in process. Easy to just say to wipe them out. Different to do it. People cannot live in sky after bombs go off. Not everyone can find bunker either.”
“Believe it or not, there was an order during the original attacks,” Akiyo said, “and for first time in history, nations aligned with each other to combat common threat. But I also heard some countries had secret agenda and feigned allegiance with others. Part way through attacks, as has been going around, people started fighting amongst themselves and it was essentially World War Three, the zombies only part of threat instead of whole thing like they were supposed to be.”
Billie crossed her arms, snorted. “Leave it to people to be petty even in an international crisis.”
As they strode past more tables, she couldn’t help but notice some of the younger Asian women eye Sven up and down.
Whatever.
A large cannon was off to one corner, partly covered in a tarp. It stood at least fifteen feet tall, the unit holding it aloft like a telescope some five feet wide.
“What’s that?” Billie said, pointing to it.
Akiyo simply smiled. “Secret weapon number four.”
Next to another table, Billie asked him, “What are these?”
“An experimental light cannon. It shoots an extremely bright beam that casts wide range and, though we have to test it, we thought it would blind creatures. It’s clear that they see. We just don’t know if their eyes function same as ours, but since they were once us, there’s good chance their ocular function the same and, if not, then at least similar. If things can’t suddenly see, they might just stop and stand there.”
“Or lash out while freaking out.”
“That, too.”
She walked with Akiyo a few more paces when out of the corner of her eye she saw the bracelet light up again.
“Didn’t know jewellery could glow like that,” he said.
Billie glanced over her shoulder to Sven and Bastian and gave them a nod. Akiyo’s feet left the ground as Sven hoisted him up and walked with him to the far side of the room.
“Hey, what’s going on? Put me down!” Akiyo said.
“Mouth closed, okay?” Sven said.
Bastian hovered over Billie’s shoulder. “Another one?”
“Looks that way.”
“Why does it do that?”
“Do what?”
“Make those light things come out of the ground.”
“I wish I knew.” She also hoped that the energy coming from the ground wasn’t from Hell.
She paced with the bracelet in between two tables, one covered with scraps of leather, cloth and work boots. The other bore scraps of metal.
Nearly at the end by the table with the scraps, the bracelet glowed gold and, like before, began to vibrate a soothing massage into her wrist. From the ground, royal blue crackles of energy materialized and floated up into the bracelet’s stone. Once done, like before the glow ceased and another portion of it had changed to blue crystal.
“I guess part of this is to fill this thing up,” Billie said, “whatever this is.”
Around an ho
ur later and conveying the information about the upcoming attacks, Billie Sven, and Bastian bid Akiyo good bye.
A biplane waited for them just outside the town, a woman with incredibly pale skin the pilot. Billie did not want to get on that plane, the woman’s skin being the main problem. She thought back to May and Del, who had kidnapped her and August and ended up being shape-shifting undead creatures themselves. Perhaps this new woman was part of a revenge plan? The only reason Billie ended up boarding was because Sven put his big arm around her, squeezed her close, and vowed to protect her if anything happened. It didn’t take her trepidation away completely, but it helped.
Billie eyed the pale-skinned pilot the whole trip, expecting at any moment for her to suddenly lash out and try and eat them. Instead, it had been a smooth ride straight through to yet another village, this one only about four streets wide, original population probably around two-hundred-fifty, she guessed.
The woman landed the plane on a nearby field and led them to a cozy-looking country home. Like the others, this one had a secret, too. Billie took Sven’s hand and went on in.
* * * *
The country home yielded not just more tech, but a crystal for her stone like the others, this one green. So did the next three locations they visited. All seemed to have been within a couple hours’ flight from each other, give or take. Billie had fallen asleep on the flight to their current drop spot. Took Sven a couple hard nudges to get her awake, he said later.
This plane landed on the roof of an enormous skyscraper. Billie guessed it to be around a hundred stories high.
The two were led by an African American man down the stairwell from the top floor all the way to the bottom. The man cited the elevators contained trapped undead hence the aerobic descent.
“We’ll take them out when we take the building out,” the man said, “but until then, we have the elevator master controls, thus in a position to unleash the creatures should our security be threatened by those we do not wish to enter here, namely looters and loose cannons.”
Once at the basement door, the man—who refused to give a name—opened it and took them into a room with supporting columns throughout.
Billie couldn’t believe what she saw.
* * * *
18
Meet Up
Joe had talked himself into giving Tracy more time and ended up spending the rest of the afternoon, evening and late-night waiting for her. He checked on his wounds, the glue having dried, enabling him to give them another flush with peroxide. He’d have to save what was left in the bottle, however, as it was now almost out.
Starving, he plopped back down on the couch, the ache of fatigue creeping up along the back of his head.
“Come on,” he groaned. He closed his eyes and whispered, “I hope you’re okay.”
Though tired, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep. Unless he’d spent a day exerting himself, usually he’d just lie in bed and, when finally exhausted, drift off. He wondered if he should wait until morning and if Tracy didn’t come back by then, to head out to the Hub to try and find her.
Or maybe you should go now, he thought.
* * * *
The soup had been filling, the chunks of veggies something Tracy had missed for the longest time. Thank goodness for canned goods.
It was the middle of the night—or thereabouts, she figured—and she grabbed a few Zs after eating to regain her strength after not much of a diet the past while. She hoped Joe was faring all right. If his estimated timeline was to be trusted, he should be back at the house starting tomorrow, the day after if he got delayed. Tracy decided the best course of action would be to go with someone back to the house, then her, Joe and the other person could attempt to raid some of the neighboring homes for supplies before returning to the safe house.
The intel at the safe house wasn’t as sophisticated as she had hoped, unlike the Hub. She’d never been here before so didn’t know its exact workings. She hoped for a similar structure of folks reporting in, giving info on the goings on outside, their ideas, tactical advice, new finds and all the rest.
Tracy took the time to speak to everyone, give them Joe’s description, and ask if they’d seen him. None did, though one cited seeing the body of a man with no hair a couple days back, but Joe had been with her at that time so it was someone else.
As if you should have expected this to go smoothly, she told herself.
Feeling like she was stuck and not liking the idea of having to stay put, she resolved to re-arm then head back out onto the streets and make her way to the house she and Joe “borrowed.”
After loading up with a couple .9mm pistols and a belt full of clips, she moved up and down the hallway, considering who she would invite to come along with her. However, she already knew who she was going to pick. The man’s name was Felix and he had been one of the people who she asked about Joe. Felix stood at around six and a half feet tall and probably weighed some two hundred and fifty pounds, most of it—judging by the curves in his arms and legs—muscle. When Tracy found him, he was lying on a cot against the corner of a room, reading a book.
“Felix?” she said.
He lay the book down on his chest. His brown hair was thick and layered in mats. His face was a mix of mottled skin, scars, and a healed-over broken cheekbone. “How can I help you, Tracy?” he replied with a sigh.
She put up a hand. “Never mind. Maybe this was a bad idea.”
Felix simply nodded and set his eyes back on the book.
“Or,” she said, “maybe you can actually stop and talk to someone instead of always acting impatient.”
He didn’t look up from reading. “Don’t act like you know me. We’ve crossed paths maybe twice in our entire lifetimes. Take your attitude somewhere else.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Walking away: “Why do I even bother?”
As she made her way out of the safe house, she did her best to keep her head focused on her own safety instead of dwelling on Felix being such an idiot. To a degree, she couldn’t blame him. Though he never told her personally, she caught wind he had come from a large family and one day while they all hid in the basement of the house they shared, some undead had gotten into the above level and, as one thing led to another, the zombies had accidentally set the house on fire. Only Felix escaped, the rest of the family, even some young children, had perished in the flames.
“We’ve all lost someone,” Tracy muttered as she emerged back on the street. One gun at the ready, she moved close to the buildings, eyes always on the search for anything rotten and moving.
Getting back onto Main Street, she moved swiftly in between the cars, keeping out of sight even though right now the streets seemed clear. All it’d take was one gutmuncher to see her and she’d soon have several on her tail.
Makes you wonder if it’d be worth finding a motorcycle, she thought. Could just rev up and weave in between this mess. Be a heck of a lot faster than always moving on foot. Of course, you got to find the key for that motorcycle . . .
The lack of the undead made the trek easy and she was already at the Redwood Bridge.
Tracy rounded a stalled ice cream truck and was greeted by a handful of undead roaming between the cars in front of her. Trigger finger ready just in case, she went around the cars on the far right and kept out of sight. No sense picking them off unless she wanted to have a whole swarm of them after her.
The zombie traffic thinned out to next to nothing again and she couldn’t help but sense something was wrong. Usually, these journeys were more eventful; not that she wanted to blast zombie heads. The undead numbers seemed very small even compared to when she and Joe had been on their way back to the city before the dust storm. She couldn’t help but be suspicious something else was going on.
Yeah, what though? she thought. Some of the creatures showed a few signs of intelligence, but most are as brain dead as a door knob. You can’t tell me they’re planning something. Yet there had been all those ones go
ing the opposite way when they drove in.
Tracy passed a Safeway, all the windows along its front smashed from looters, a couple creatures wandering the trashed aisles within, shopping carts strewn around the parking lot. The Extra Foods right next door looked pretty much the same.
By the time she was by the Tim Horton’s, she was itching to just be back at the house, locked in and safe, and ready to catch some shut-eye.
Got a while yet, she thought.
A row of zombies came up from the intersecting street in front of her. She counted off ten of them. There might have been a couple others she missed as the group of zombies were all clumped together in a pack of dead men and women as they shuffled down the road.
All it took was the one on the outside to see her and the whole pack turned and moved toward her, their shuffling footsteps picking up speed at the sudden prospect of a kill.
Tracy raised the gun, but didn’t fire. She instead quickly sidestepped to the far left, her eyes always on the target. The zombies moved as one, tracking her movement. She was nearly past them now and almost in a position to make a break for it. In between two cars, she aimed the gun over the roof of one, moving backward, getting distance, when something hard wrapped around her ankle. She looked down to see an undead creature sticking out from beneath a car. Tracy immediately popped a bullet into its head, shook her foot free, then took off around the front of the vehicle.
The zombie horde she’d been tracking had changed position and were much closer to her than expected.
Tracy fired off several rounds, pegging a couple of the creatures, while taking the time to move away. They followed after her. Her gunshots had drawn out others as the street started to fill with the undead. It was like every street running off Main had their own cache of the walking dead and suddenly decided to offload right into her path.
Tracy ran up the end of a Buick and got onto its roof. Taking careful aim, she sent bullet after bullet into the crowd of oncoming zombies. Each shot had to hit paydirt. She hoped that by killing some of them, the others would get the message and move on, but that never happened. They were single-minded killing machines.