Redemption of the Dead

by A. P. Fuchs

  “That big one, there,” Dean said, pointing at a slab of concrete about three feet by four.

  “Right,” Joe said, and the two men went and pushed against it. The big slab of concrete fell forward and slid slightly down a small hill of more rubble, a crashed car, and the remainder of a bus bench with a broken realtor’s ad.

  After checking the coast was clear, Joe and Dean hopped out. Dean drew his glock and kept watch while Joe helped the others through the hole.

  “Okay, where to?” Joe asked, trying to ignore the groans of the gathered dead not far from where they stood.

  “I’m thinking Cityplace would be our best bet. It’s underground,” Dean said.

  “Not all of it.”

  “Most of it. The buildings above are some of the few that haven’t yet been demolished, but we could get in there and, provided the rotter population is minimal, we could clear it out and lock it up.”

  Joe looked to Tracy.

  “We don’t have a lot of options,” she said. “We basically go high up or low down, low down being the ideal.”

  She was right. As much as being above street level would provide protection from the creatures roaming the streets, once the giants got active again, it would only be a matter of time before one would knock something down.

  “So be it,” Joe said.

  Word spread backward throughout the group.

  “Everyone stay together,” Dean said. “Ready?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Then we move.”

  The group stayed huddled together as one, eleven in all. Packing up to leave was limited to getting armed, a few basic supplies like canned beans, soups, cans of Coke, and everyone’s single piece of armor. Joe’s was an arm guard for his forearm. Tracy had on a shin pad. Dean wore a chest pad. One of the trainers had a helmet. The others wore similar items.

  The streets were empty, but not leaving anything to chance, all walked with their weapons at the ready. No one talked as per instruction and were only allowed to speak if they spotted one of the creatures.

  After crossing the street, they turned north on the sidewalk, sidestepping any obstacles and abandoned, rotting body parts. Joe stepped over someone’s hand. Coming up behind an old rusty Camaro, the group stopped, tightened up together, and scanned the area.

  “If we continue that way” —Dean pointed past a fallen billboard sign— “we’ll come up next to the MTS Centre and then, if all is clear, we’ll go along the building opposite, locate the doors and assess.”

  “How badly damaged is it over there?” Joe asked.

  “Haven’t been in a long time, but last I saw it, the entrance to Cityplace was still there. That could be different now, though, just a heads up.”

  Dean waved for the group to continue on as they stayed out of sight as best they could while also taking a round-about way to their destination so as to sidestep the gathered dead beyond.

  The group moved and any time someone spoke, they were shushed. A couple of times they stopped and listened close for shuffling footsteps, but heard none. The groans filling the air were growing louder, which Joe didn’t understand. Zombies rarely increased their volume. During an attack it might happen as their aggression sometimes came out through their groans, but a genuine crescendo didn’t make sense.

  “I don’t like this,” Tracy said.

  “Me neither,” said Joe.

  “Shush,” came someone from behind.

  They kept on . . . and a haunting feeling crawled up Joe’s spine, over his chest and heart, and settled in his stomach. His ears picked up a rough scraping sound, like sandpaper over very coarse wood. It wasn’t singular either. It was a chorus of them.

  “We got to move,” Joe said and got in front of Dean, taking the lead.

  “What’re you—”

  “Take up the rear, guard the back.”

  “You’re not in charge.”

  “We’re about to have a real big problem; someone skilled and who knows these people should take up the rearguard. Tracy and I will cover the front. You got those two big guys—Rob and somebody—to cover the middle.” He nodded toward the trainers.

  It was clear Dean didn’t want to. Tracy put a hand on his shoulder and gently said, “Please?”

  He looked into her eyes, clearly displeased, but nodded and headed toward the back.

  There were a few murmurs amongst the group asking what was going on.

  The scraping sounds slightly faded.

  Joe led the group down the same route Dean would’ve, his .9mm always at the ready. Really wish I had the X-09 right now. Really miss that thing. That gun, his own design and build, was like an extra limb for him, an extension of himself. The .9mm, though effective, felt like he was trying to play ball with someone else’s glove.

  They came in behind the MTS Centre, the large parking lot in the back covered in a mash of cars, twisted metal and plastic, chunks of the ground churned up from the giants.

  “We cross here,” Joe said, “then head over to the building across the way. Turn right and we’ll check the doors.”

  “Should send scouts,” Tracy said.

  “We need to stick together.”

  “What if the doors are completely smashed in? Be nice to know, don’t you think?”

  “We stick together.”

  “Don’t think it’s a good idea, not sending a couple of guys.”

  “I hear you, I really do, but the last thing we need is for anyone to get separated.” He knew that she knew he was right in that regard; at the same time, Tracy was right, too.

  The scraping sounds returned.

  She said, “They’re all gathered, last we saw. Unless . . .”

  Joe looked her in the eyes and hoped his gaze told her his fear.

  “We better get a move on,” she said.

  The group traversed the parking lot at a brisk jog; almost at the other side and Joe spread out his arms to hold up the group.

  “Hold on a sec,” he said and ran off to the side.

  “What’re you doing?” Tracy called after him. A few of the other folks chimed in as well.

  Joe reached the far edge of the lot, near the corner. Coming up Main by the train station was an army of the dead. He couldn’t see the end of the horde because of a building in the way, but of the ones he did see he estimated there were at least thirty of them. As tightly-packed as the throng of the dead was, they didn’t move in one big block, but instead were loose in their approach and some started to drift down the same street as the entrance to Cityplace.

  Joe ran back to the group. “We need another way in. There’s a plethora of them on Main, probably heading toward the gathering, but some are moving this way. If they see us, we could have an army of them on our tail.”

  Tracy passed on the news to Dean. A woman beside him said, “Where’s Jessica?”

  Joe heard the question and looked around. Jessica, the same Asian girl that had refused to let Jerry in, had gone over to where Joe saw the dead. She must’ve heard him and separated, unnoticed.

  To Tracy, he said, “I’ll grab her. You and Dean lead them to another way in.”

  “If there is no other way, if everything’s blocked?”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Joe ran off. When he caught up to Jessica, he said, “Come on, let’s go,” and grabbed her by the hand.

  “No,” she said and started walking forward toward the zombie horde.

  Joe pulled her back. “Are you crazy? They’ll kill you or make you one of them.”

  “I deserve it,” she said. “I deserve to die. It’s my fault Jerry’s dead. He died because I didn’t let him in.”

  With a hard tug, he pulled her toward the group. Even when she tried to pull away, he kept his hold on her.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said.

  “You’re hurting yourself if you think walking into a pack of those monsters is going to make amends for what you think you did, which was nothing, by the way.”


  “I know. I did nothing.”

  “I meant you didn’t do anything wrong. You acted in what you thought would be best to keep the group safe.”

  “Let me go,” she said, then jerked her hand away and started to run.

  Joe took a few large strides, caught her, lifted her up and put her over his shoulder.

  “Put me down!” she screamed. “Put me doooowwwwnnn!”

  “Quiet. They’ll hear you.” He turned around.

  The undead had and a few were already starting in their direction.

  * * * *

  “Are we there yet?” Billie asked Sven.

  “Not yet. At least two more hours yet. Go back to sleep.” He put his arm around her; she didn’t mind.

  “This is boring,” she said, but knew she needed the rest, her body and mind in dire need of some catch-up. Her headache had alleviated some, however. “I hope it doesn’t take too long when we get there. Is it cold in Wales? Wait, never mind. The weather is the same everywhere.”

  She checked out the crates of weapons. Some were small, the size of a TV, but others stood large, some the size of a refrigerator or deep freezer. The Jetliers were in some of those crates. She wondered which ones held those silver weapons. She hadn’t minded the handguns she used when getting Greg and Nole from the elevators.

  The downtime on the flight had given her some time to think. Heading back home would also mean heading back to the place she lost Des. Her Des, not the one that was a monster in disguise. The guy had been a hardcore gamer, an ear, and a good friend. Though the two were never together in the official sense, Billie always considered her and Des a couple in terms of best friends. Man, she missed him.

  “Really wish you were alive,” she said softly, the sickening feeling that she hadn’t even taken the time to properly mourn him settling in her gut. “I’m sorry we let you die.”

  Putting her arm around Sven’s middle and gripping him hard, she put her face into his chest and started to cry.

  * * * *

  The group was already moving closer to the north side of the MTS Centre when Joe and Jessica caught up with them.

  “What happened?” Tracy asked.

  “Later.” He adjusted Jessica on his shoulder, but didn’t put her down. She was too busy crying to fight anymore anyway. “We got some stragglers headed our way. I counted five. Hopefully there’s no more.”

  The undead turned the corner and were coming toward the parking lot. A couple of them moved fairly slowly, but the remainder must’ve still had their ankles intact as they walked quickly and firmly.

  Tracy faced them. They were at least thirty or forty feet away. She raised her gun, took aim, and fired. The first zombie took a bullet to the head. She fired again and dropped a second. The one further back she hit in the shoulder. It stopped for a second then kept on. Her next shot took it down.

  “That’s enough,” Joe said. “Save it.”

  At least she got them some distance from the remainder. Back with the group, they kept on until they hit the street and saw another crowd of the creatures, most of them making their way to the gathering, but another group of rotters saw them and started heading their way.

  Guns went off immediately as a couple in the group started to take shots, dropping only three of a procession of nine coming their way.

  “Man, where’d you learn how to shoot?” said Rob. “This is how it’s done.” He took aim and popped a zombie in the head. He did the same to another.

  Past the group on the other side, more of the creatures came, three sides out of four now covered. They had no choice but to go back the way they came.

  They retraced their steps, this time not as organized. An undead male came in from the side and took hold of one of the ladies. He was already biting her by the time she shrieked. Before the person next to her was able to aim their weapon, the zombie had taken the woman down and was ripping her flesh with his teeth. The shots rang out, two of them. The zombie on top of the woman fell flat. When Rob came to pull their friend away, he stopped, let the person’s arm fall to the ground, and said, “Bullet went right through this rotter. Hit her in the chest. She’s dead.” He aimed down at the woman and waited. Moments later, she started to twitch and he put a bullet in her head.

  As they moved, Joe shot down a couple of zombies; Tracy, too. Dean had only fired once. Maybe he was one of those guys who was careful with bullets, which was a good thing, Joe thought.

  The undead started to come out, the noise of the scuffle tipping them off. With no place to go, he wasn’t sure how long their group would survive.

  * * * *

  28

  New Place

  Tracy took aim and brought down an undead teen girl wearing a black T-shirt and ripped jeans headed there way. She took out another teen girl in a blue T-shirt a moment later.

  Since they had no choice but to go back the way they came, their best bet would be to get to the safe house’s back entrance and try and hold up in the area between the door and the safe house proper. If the dead had somehow got through the front door, odds of them finding the back door and getting through that in this short a time was minimal.

  Not everyone in the group were warriors. One of the men started to panic and kept tripping over his feet. Hal came in and picked him up while firing a shot off into the head of an approaching zombie. Another of the creatures came in from behind and took the trainer out at the knees, its rotten mouth attached to the trainer’s calves. Amidst the shouts of pain, two folks surrounding them tried to rescue him, but were mauled themselves. Dean shot down the attacking zombies, then ran up to Tracy.

  “You can’t leave them,” she said.

  “They’re bit, all of them. They’ll either turn fast or, if we carry them, it’ll slow the rest of us down or they could turn.”

  “Can’t risk it.”

  Joe said, “I’m going to—” Just as he stepped forward, presumably to see if he could save the others, more of the dead drew closer. He shot down a few before quickly being preoccupied with a screaming Jessica on his shoulder.

  Everyone running, they managed to sidestep a handful of creatures then hit the nearest alleyway. One of the people jumped into a dumpster, while the others kept going.

  Is he crazy? Tracy thought. To Joe: “I’ll get him.”

  She ran to the dumpster and saw Cameron, a middle-aged dude with a gentle demeanor, huddled up in the corner. She reached out her hand, glanced up and saw Joe and the others disappear around a corner. “Cam, give me your hand. You can’t stay here. They’ll climb over and you’ll be dead or worse.”

  “They can’t smell me in here. It stinks so bad that I’m going to hurl.” He let rip into the corner he was huddled against.

  Perfect, she thought. The undead were getting closer. They had about ten seconds to act or there was going to be a fight. Cam took her hand, coating it in puke.

  “Thanks a lot,” she said, and pulled him to the edge of the dumpster, tugging on his shirt as he started to climb over.

  Once his feet hit the ground, the two made a break for it. Tracy fired off a shot behind her and took out the monster nearest them. Heading the same way Joe did, she had to stop when a couple of other rotters came around the same corner. She shot them down, went after Joe, who was with the others who were already up ahead a solid two sidewalk lengths.

  “Let’s go, Cam,” she said and tugged on his sleeve.

  He stared at her and only when the blood poured from his mouth did he fall forward, a zombie on his back biting deep into his neck. Tracy sent a bullet into the creature’s head, then kept on to avoid the others nearing.

  Sorry I couldn’t stop you from changing, Cam. If only she had some extra time, but how much she would’ve needed varied. Some people came back from the dead right away; others took days, some even longer.

  She ran to catch up, not having to fire a single shot after managing to dodge around a couple of the creatures that tried to grab her. She ran past a body and saw it was
Gail, another of the group. She, too, hadn’t turned yet.

  Once back together again, they did a headcount: five. Her, Joe, Dean, Jessica and Rob.

  The swarms were growing thick and time was of the essence. The group continued as one down the sidewalk, moving quickly, but not at an all-out run lest somebody tire and fall behind.

  “We’ve lost half already,” Joe said when she caught up to him. “We just left.”

  “I know.”

  “There might be too many this time. Far too many. Unless we stay ahead, that’s it.”

  “Don’t think like that.”

  “It’s reality, Tracy.”

  “Doesn’t have to be. Remember, I need you to be strong right now. If this thing between you and me is softening you up—”

  “Don’t tell me that. I’ve heard enough of that before all this. Trust me, I was fully immersed in nice guys finishing last. I was a master at it.”

  “Okay, sorry.” Touchy. This isn’t the time to let your relationship screw up everything. Why did I even bring it up? I’m such an idiot. Can I have it that bad that I’ve just been fighting what I know to be true: that I actually have a chance at happiness and I’m trying to be all tough by shutting it down even though, technically, it’s already underway? Come on, Tracy, you’re crazy. You’re in a life-or-death situation, a major one, and you’re thinking about a boy. This is so not you. She basically had the same conversation with herself in her head three more times before she decided: Swallow it. Shut up. Just shut up, forget about it and stay one hundred percent on the present. That stuff doesn’t matter. It just doesn’t.

  Turning at the next corner, options were slim.

  “There,” Joe said, pointing to a set of cement steps that led to the basement of Johnny G’s.

  “How did we end up here? We were totally going in the opposite direction,” Tracy said.