Redemption of the Dead

by A. P. Fuchs

  “People?”

  “Yah,” she said, this time with a wink. Sven grinned. “Here’s what we do.”

  After she gave them the run-down of what she was thinking, the three headed toward the main room. Billie eyed the Jetliers as she walked past them and she noticed Sven do the same.

  Concealing themselves behind desks and worktables so as not to be seen by any of the dead, she led the other two to the wall of gleaming metal weapons.

  “Take one,” she whispered.

  The German boys grinned. Sven took the rifle, Bastian the machine gun. Billie grabbed a couple of handguns and a few grenades. She put the guns behind her back in the waistband and stuffed her pockets with the grenades while keeping the other gun at the ready.

  Joe would have a field day with this, she thought. She hoped she would see him again and soon.

  Now armed, the three moved through the room. A few of the undead milled about, a couple of them completely lost in their own zoned-out world. They were quickly dropped before a handful of others appeared and headed toward Billie and her friends.

  The two German boys made quick work of sending the creatures to the ground.

  “Stay ready,” she said, still pinching her nose, making her voice come out nasally. “Any more out there will come as they would’ve heard the shots.”

  The three moved throughout the rest of the floor, taking out anything rotten that appeared in their way.

  As they turned the corner which, according to the sign on the wall would lead to the elevators, they stopped when a row of feral-looking undead stood before them. Not wasting any time, Billie raised her gun and shot two in the head, the tops of their skulls bursting from the impact. Sven held up the rifle, expertly balanced it, and fired off a round of his own, dropping another. The creatures came forward and began crowding in on them. Sven used the butt of the rifle to smash open the head of one, while Bastian used the machine gun to cut through at least a half dozen of them on the right. Heads shot to pieces, the undead fell. Bastian turned his attention toward Billie and Sven.

  “Be careful!” Billie shouted, referring to him firing that machine gun, but she wasn’t sure if he understood the intent.

  Rapid shots rang out, their thundering sound echoing inside the small space. Broken bits of floor and ceiling shot through the air every time a stray bullet hit them. Two zombies honed in on Billie and were nearly right up against her, reaching out to take a firm hold. She popped one in the face and the other in the forehead. The creatures hit the ground and she did the same thing to the two behind.

  Sven fired, a zombie fell; he took aim, fired again, another one fell; over and over. The guy was good, precise.

  Billie had a half-second moment of “That’s my man,” before dismissing the notion and popping another couple of bullets into the face of an old walking dead guy.

  The ring of fired bullets echoed on the air as the three stood with weapons poised amongst a pile of rotting dead bodies. The room was clear.

  “Sven,” Billie said, thumbing toward the elevator door. He came over, tried the elevator controls and when those didn’t work, he motioned to Bastian and said something in German. The two got to work trying to pry the elevator doors open.

  Billie looked around, trying to find something to use as a pry bar. Not finding one, she told the boys she’d be back in a minute and returned into the weapons room. She scanned the room, the floor, the desks. To the right, a zombie shambled toward her. She shot it in the head then went back to looking. With all the excitement, she forgot about her nose and hadn’t kept the collar of her shirt in place. She was relieved the bleeding had stopped though it still hurt like the dickens when she touched it; she didn’t care about her shirt being covered in blood.

  After checking a couple more worktables, she found a large heavy pry bar and quickly brought it to Sven. The big man had got the door open a few inches, but judging by the deep purple grooves on his palms, it hadn’t been easy work.

  “Here,” she said and handed him the pry bar.

  “Danke.” He took it and jammed it in between the doors and pried it open, the metal doors releasing a profound screech on their tracks.

  The elevator shaft was empty save for the cabling which took the car up and down the building. Billie peered in and got a clear view to the shaft beside it; that car wasn’t there either.

  “We need to find out what floor they’re stuck on. You guys don’t have a flashlight, by chance, do you?”

  The boys shook their heads.

  “Okay, back to the other room and let’s get looking. We need to know what’s in those elevators even if it turns out they’re empty, but if there is someone in there who can help us, it’s worth risking our lives for.”

  * * * *

  22

  Rooftop Gathering

  Joe and Tracy lay together on a cot in one of the small rooms, his arms wrapped around her, her body snug against his, her legs around him.

  He wasn’t sure if she was asleep, but kissed the top of her head anyway. He thought he felt her smile when her cheek shifted against his chest.

  Things didn’t progress any further than the kitchen and the two lay clothed on the cot minus their weapons and boots. They just wanted to lie there together, comforted, safe, a year’s worth of pain finally melting away.

  Joe remembered that April and him had done the same thing the night she stayed over at his place. There was something profound about just sleeping next to someone instead of it always being about sex. To his surprise, the memory of once doing this with April didn’t bother him and instead just became a highlight of his past and nothing more. Was it possible it was finally over? Had he actually moved on? He hoped he had and gave Tracy another squeeze. She squeezed him back.

  So she is awake. “How long do you want to sleep for?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “At least four or five hours for sure. Be amazing if we can get in seven or eight, but I’m not used to sleeping that long unless I completely crash.”

  “Me neither.”

  “What do you want to do when we get up?”

  “Well, how about have something to eat, get cleaned up a bit, then take it from there?”

  She sighed. “I feel the same way. A part of me would be fine just staying in now instead of getting out there hunting.”

  “Me, too. It’s like I just simply need to take a break, a real break.”

  After a few seconds, she said, “The thing is we know we can’t. We are still going to need to do some scavenging, remain on the alert. It’s so dangerous out there and given what happened at the Hub, I don’t want the same thing to happen here. Would feel like if I left them—not saying we need to go somewhere else, just saying in general—that I’d be betraying them. There’s few of us left and if we separate, unless we align with a new group of survivors, we won’t have any hope.”

  “No, you’re right. At one point, sure, maybe we can look at going somewhere or even—just mentioning it—we might be able to actually find someplace for us, someplace nice, maybe even a place that’s normal. But, yeah, we need to stay put. In the city, I mean. I know that I have to stay because of . . . of Billie and August. They’ll come back here looking for me, which means I have to be here. They have no idea what this version of Winnipeg is like as they were taken pretty much when we arrived. Unless they’re already back and trying to find me, they don’t know what to expect.”

  “They’re from your world, I understand,” she said.

  The two remained quiet for a moment, then Joe said, “Thanks for being here with me tonight, Tracy. This means everything to me.”

  She hugged him tight. “Yeah, me, too. Feels so good to be in your arms.” She looked up at him, eyes hopeful.

  He brought his lips to hers and kissed her ever so gently and as affectionately as he possibly could. Unable to pull away, he leaned in further, the angle slightly uncomfortable. Tracy must have sensed it because she adjusted herself and came on top of him, pressing her l
ips hard against his, pulling him so close and so tight he could barely breathe.

  He didn’t care.

  Tracy.

  He was so lost in her touch, when Felix shouted into the room, it caused him to grab her by the shoulders and swiftly role her off him as if getting caught by a parent.

  “What?” Tracy asked, running a hand through her hair.

  Hope this doesn’t turn into anything, Joe thought. Sure, Felix had been with Tracy when he met them on the road, but there wasn’t—rather, hadn’t—been anything between them so far as he knew.

  “Something’s not right outside,” Felix said.

  Joe’s heart sank with relief.

  “What is it?” Tracy said.

  “The creatures. One of the scouts came in and said the giants are forming rank and the smaller ones are doing the same.”

  “Forming rank?” Joe said.

  “Some sort of aligning of themselves, not in straight lines like soldiers, but not in a big mob either. They seem to be making a precise formation but until we can get a look from the air, there’s no way to tell what it is, if anything at all.”

  “Am I supposed to do something?” Tracy asked.

  “You’re being called to the fore. You know why. Get yourselves together and we’ll go upstairs.” Felix left.

  Tracy sat on the edge of the cot and rubbed her face.

  “Why do they need you up there?” Joe asked.

  “I’m a good shot, and they value my assessment of the creatures given all my time out on the field.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  She smiled and gave him a peck on the lips. “You better.”

  After getting their gear together and a quick bathroom break, she led him to the back corner of the safe house. There was a single red cubicle divider adjacent to another wall with a matching red door.

  “Didn’t see this earlier,” Joe said, nodding toward the door.

  “Usually it’s covered with this thing.” She gave a quick kick to the cubicle wall. She pulled out her keys and unlocked the door, which led to a hallway. Tracy fired up the flashlight; her and Joe entered. “This is an emergency exit-slash-roof access passageway we created when this place came down. The building underneath has collapsed, but those who built this place—so the story goes—adjusted the rubble above and between layering slabs of concrete on an angle and building a similarly-angled passageway beneath, it’s given us access to the roof of the building beside it, which also has a fire escape.”

  “Just in case the safe house gets infiltrated.”

  “Exactly. Despite the fights and arguments that sometimes broke out at the Hub, one thing everyone could agree on was safety and contingency plans to ensure that.”

  Joe thought of the safe house being invaded by the giant undead and wondered if they’d had a contingency plan for that. He wouldn’t ask Tracy, though, at least not right now lest he struck a nerve.

  At the end of the hallway there was a left turn that led to a series of plywood slats that lined another hallway, but this one was clearly makeshift given how uneven the floor was and how the walls seemed to angle in or out at times instead of standing straight. The hallway was short, which made the climb steep. His foot slipped.

  “Watch it,” Tracy said. “It was built that way on purpose. People can figure out how to climb up something, takes the undead longer.”

  At the top was a door and again she produced her keys, put the flashlight in her mouth, and shone it at the knob as she unlocked it.

  “Certainly a lot of keys,” Joe said.

  She took the flashlight from her mouth. “Can’t leave doors open if you’re on the escape.”

  Tracy turned the knob and opened the door. A handful of people were on the roof. Quickly, a man with gray hair came over to her.

  “Joe, this is Dean,” Tracy said.

  Joe shook the man’s hand.

  Dean led her by the arm to the ledge; Joe followed, surprised at his jealousy of seeing another man touch what he supposed he should start calling his girlfriend.

  Joe came to the ledge and looked out. Most of downtown was in shambles, with several of the buildings crumbled into heaps, others standing partially erect, partially demolished. The damage in this world was much worse than that of his own.

  Felix had been right, however. At least a half dozen streets over, the giant undead had gathered together and stood side-by-side. The regular-sized zombies roamed the streets below, coming in from all directions and heading toward their giant counterparts. Joe eyed them intently, trying to discern between the ones already lined up in the distance and the ones approaching and the direction they were travelling.

  “The scout that reported this—you know Dale—also reported he had been no more than five feet from one of the rotters and the creature just looked at him then continued on its way.”

  “Either something was wrong with that zombie or it knew exactly what it was doing,” Tracy said.

  “They don’t think,” Joe said, “but they do seem to have an understanding of their role, of what they do. Maybe even why they do it, for all we know. I’ve never known a zombie to pass up a meal unless it was physically incapable of attaining it, and even then . . . I don’t know what’s scarier.”

  The two eyed the walking deceased in the distance. Thanks to some of the buildings having been leveled, it made line-of-sight much easier to watch the creatures. From what Joe could see, the things streamed forward to the giants’ feet then, as if hitting an invisible wall, spread out lengthwise. Others came in behind those zombies and did the same, but Felix was right in saying they weren’t forming perfect lines.

  “The only unusual behavior I’ve witnessed was,” Joe said, putting Tracy’s and Dean’s attention on him, “where I come from, they move en masse from one area to another, actually emptying the place they just left.” He couldn’t help but wonder if his world was still living on somehow and if the undead had now completely overrun the Haven and downtown had become the safe zone. He supposed he’d never know.

  “Where was this?” Dean asked.

  Tracy covered for him and said, “How long has this been going on, this formation of the dead?”

  Dean thought for a moment. “Dale came in not long ago, like twenty minutes, but he said he’d been observing it for over an hour.”

  “Have the creatures ever exhibited any behavior like this before?” Joe asked.

  “No,” Tracy said, “nothing that would be considered ‘out of the ordinary’ for them. There’s a strategy here.”

  “That’s impossible,” Dean said, “those creatures can’t think.”

  “Apparently they can,” Joe said, “but not the way you and I do. Their behavior both where I come from, and here, shows very clearly they are aware of what they are doing. They might not understand it or even care, but they all have one goal, right? Kill us, convert us, or eat us. Each of those three things require three specific sets of actions. Unless those three events have been happening by fluke and that’s all these creatures are or ever would be capable of, then what you’re looking at clearly shows something else at play, an aspect about them that we never understood before.” He looked to Tracy. She gave him an approving grin.

  “Well, you certainly seem to know a lot about this,” Dean said. “Any advice?”

  Joe simply deferred to Tracy.

  She said, “Right now, stay put, stay hidden. The undead haven’t given any indication to us in the past or even now they know where we are. No sense drawing attention to ourselves if we don’t have to.”

  “Agreed,” Joe said.

  More of the dead filled the street, their vast numbers suggesting many had remained hidden until now or were trapped and had just gotten out.

  The undead took rank amongst their kin, the giants looking off into the distance as if waiting for something, as if planning for something.

  * * * *

  23

  Elevators

  With Sven holding her steady
while Billie partly leaned into the elevator shaft, she looked up and counted the visible exterior doors from within and determined the elevator on the left was lodged on the seventeenth floor. Upon confirming the find on the eleventh floor, they were able to ascertain the second car was stuck up on the twenty-fifth.

  Now on the seventeenth, it was the moment of truth. Sven was in charge of prying open the doors; Bastian had his machine gun at the ready, aimed squarely at the opening; Billie stood against the wall on the side, gun ready to shoot down anything that came out groaning or growling.

  Billie nodded at Sven.

  “Guten tag,” Sven said loud and clear, giving the door a hard whap with the palm of his hand.

  The three waited for a response, then muffled from within, “Hello?

  Sven smacked the door again. “Guten tag.”

  From inside: “Hello? Who’s there?”

  Billie’s heart sank with relief, but this was only the first part of the plan. For all they knew, this was yet another trap and those “stuck” within the elevator were shape shifters.

  Sven pried the door open only a couple of inches, just enough to clear the path of communication.

  “How many are you?” Sven asked.

  “Fourteen,” came the male voice from within.

  That’s got to be cramped, Billie thought.

  “Show me face,” Sven said.

  There was shuffling and bumping in behind the door, then Sven took a step back.

  He looked at Billie. “He look okay.”

  “Only one,” Billie said.

  “Step back from door. Only one person come out. Anymore get shot, okay?” Sven said.

  He pried the door open enough so a single person could squeeze through sideways. The moment the male in the white lab coat was pulled through, shouts arose from within along with demands to let them out.

  Sven said something, but Billie couldn’t make it out above the din.

  “Tell them to be quiet,” she said though it was clear Sven couldn’t hear her either.