Redemption of the Dead

by A. P. Fuchs

  “Weren’t you paying attention? We basically more than double backed. Was the only way to stay ahead of them. They’re going to the inner city, we start backing out.”

  He was right. Her mind had been elsewhere. Completely. Stupid!

  The five headed down the steps. The basement door to the place was a faux door, once used but no longer. Joe kicked against it and beat it with his fists. It didn’t budge.

  Rob squeezed in between them. “Let me.” He shoved Joe aside and railed into the door with his shoulder. He did it two more times then took out his gun and shot the lock off the handle and also the two hinges on the left side. With a yank on the handle, he ripped the door away, the door itself remaining intact but the frame of wood around it that had secured it to the one inside was in splinters.

  “How did you—” Tracy started.

  “Strategic shooting,” Rob said as he waved everyone in. “Kidding. Just weakened the framing enough so we could get in. Besides, your boyfriend here was hitting against it instead of pulling.” Rob winked.

  Tracy couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Okay, funny, ha ha,” Joe said. “Besides, so were you.” He went inside.

  Rob rolled his eyes and waved Tracy in with a “lady’s first” gesture.

  From inside the door, Joe said, “Come on, Tracy.”

  She went in, Rob behind. Once in, Dean and Rob went to work getting the door up, while Joe went and started grabbing chairs from the tables in the billiard room they found themselves in.

  Rob and Dean talked quietly by the door.

  “I think we’re okay,” Rob said.

  “We need to hammer this down,” Dean said.

  Joe stacked chairs beside the door but not in front of it. He gestured to them and said, “For later,” before going off to get some more.

  Using her flashlight to find her away around in the dark, Tracy followed the side wall of the billiard room until she found the stairs that led up to the main lounge and restaurant. There was a door at the top, still closed. She drew her gun and cautiously approached it. She tested the handle. Locked. Good. She quietly went down the stairs.

  The men were scouring the room, the bar, beneath stools and tables, presumably looking for something to secure the door with.

  Tracy went over to Jessica. “How are you holding up?”

  The thin girl stood there, hands wrapped around her elbows. “I feel stupid and terrible. Look what I did!”

  “Shhh, keep your voice low.”

  Jessica broke down. Tracy put her arm around her and brought her over to one of the cushioned benches on the side. Jessica wouldn’t stop crying. All Tracy could do was wait it out. In the meantime, she hoped Joe and the guys would figure out how to ensure the door was locked in place.

  * * * *

  29

  The War Begins

  Many hours later . . .

  The loud echoing sound of a plane was heard even down in the billiard room of Johnny G’s. Joe sat at the pool table on one of the benches, the table lined with bullets and guns, everyone having disarmed shortly after they got here, a chance to take inventory.

  “A plane,” Joe said. Really? He got up from the table and got close to the door, which had since been boarded over using planks from the handful of cushioned benches down here. With the cushions removed, they had been able to get at the joints where the seat met the legs and through prying and patience, were able to get the planks off while retaining the anchoring nails. They used the butt of a gun to hammer them in place and all was well.

  Joe put his ear to the door and listened closely.

  Tracy was suddenly beside him. She had a way to sneak up on someone and whether she just did it now intentionally or not, it didn’t matter. She was amazing.

  “Shhh,” Joe said. “Listen.”

  Tracy leaned her ear closer to the door. They waited. The sound returned, this time louder than before. Tracy’s eyes went wide. Joe smiled.

  “They’re probably flying over,” she said.

  “I know. They’re not here for us, but if they’re flying over, they’ll see the legions of the dead outside. That’s got to count for something, especially if it’s connected in some way.”

  Jessica came up to the door, too.

  “Going to tell Dean and Rob,” Tracy said.

  “Sure,” Joe replied.

  Jessica stood with him, quiet.

  Tracy had been able to talk to her, she later said, and was able to give the young girl some perspective and help alleviate the guilt. Tracy’s wisdom worked so much that Jessica had taken Joe privately aside and apologized for putting him and the others in jeopardy earlier.

  The sound of the plane returned and this time didn’t fade out. It got louder and louder, and the idea it was going down and would crash right near them flashed inside Joe’s mind. He listened some more. It wasn’t going down, but it was close.

  Dean and Rob came by to listen, too.

  “What do you think?” Rob asked Dean.

  Dean had to raise his voice to be heard above the sound of the plane. “That big thing that we figured was happening?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s happening. That’s not one plane. That’s three of them, if not four. And big suckers, too.”

  All looked at him with surprise.

  “Trust me. Been a plane fanatic my whole life.” His face went white. “They better not bomb us.”

  Joe’s heart skipped a beat at that one. If indeed those were military planes—and big ones, like Dean said—they could be bombers and there was no way to know what they were carrying onboard. The zombie giants couldn’t be taken down by conventional means, at least the means that most everyone had. They’d have to come down with missiles, even flat out bombs. So far as Joe knew, Canada didn’t have any nukes, and if it did, they kept it a well-locked secret. Even then, the logistics involved in that. He also remembered this wasn’t his city, even his Earth. Things were different here and nuclear technology and who had what could be one of them.

  “We stay in for now,” Joe said, “and lay low. We listen and we wait. We have to.”

  * * * *

  “Are you sure you’re ready for this, Billie?” she asked herself as she sat in the cockpit of DK-14-P2-X Mech. Personnel were few, but she got a crash course on the twelve-hour flight over.

  The aircraft was going to touch down on the Legislative grounds, the Legislature Building and surrounding structures destroyed, leaving a nice wide open space. Her, Sven—who had a Jetlier—and Bastian—who opted for a M-16 Harness—were to stick together. There were five planes in all, each loaded with weaponry from the pick up at Wales. From the air, Billie and the rest of the crew got a good look at what was going on below. The giants—all ten of them—had gathered in twos side-by-side, each duo facing the other in a kind of circle, behind them a vast army of zombies assembled like a pyramid, the combined effect creating a pentagram. Billie didn’t have to guess the reason for that specific formation. Most likely it was a calling card, even an access point. What might come through that access point, well, she only hoped that it wouldn’t come to that.

  The whole plane shook as it hit the ground. These things were designed for quick touch-and-gos. It didn’t need much to slow down before stopping. When the plane stopped moving, the giant doors to the rear of the plane opened, revealing an expanse of chewed-up lawn covered in brown and yellow dead grass.

  Home sweet home, she thought.

  A voice came through the comm. inside the mech. “B-8, this is squad leader, do you read me, over?”

  “Got you loud and clear,” she said, then placed her hands inside the control cylinders beside her. Inside the cylinders were grips and handles for her fingers, like bicycle handles only smaller, and instead of one brake on each handle, there were four small ones, each with their own function. In front of her about flush with her stomach was a control box with more buttons. She stood in the mech like wearing an oversized ski suit, her feet and legs sto
pping around the knee of the exoskeleton. There was a slight cushioned ridge to support her backside. The front was covered over in a bulletproof shield with a small view window so she could see. The mech’s giant hands and arms were controlled by her hands inside the cylinders. There was a gas pedal by her right foot, a brake with the other to make the mech walk or stop. With another switch, she could fold the legs and use the wheels on their sides like a car. Turning was operated via a small joystick by each of her thumbs, one for pivoting side-to-side, the other to go up-and-down.

  The squad leader checked in with all units through the comm. link then said, “Move out. Cut down anything that moves. Try to keep civilians casualties to a minimum. According to B-8, there is at least one survivor. Hopefully they are indoors. If transformation occurs, fire.”

  Billie smiled at the mention of Joe. The poor guy had been left alone this whole time.

  “Copy that,” she said and set the mech in motion. Bastian was on her side at ground level, M-16 harness strapped over him, which enabled him to carry the equivalent of four machine guns at once along with streams of ammo to last all four plenty. Sven pulled out in front of her in the Jetlier. She couldn’t see him because of the canopy over the vehicle, but she was proud to envision him ready to go to battle and help reclaim the Earth.

  The other squads moved out as well. Billie headed toward Portage Avenue. From down here on the street, she saw how enormous the undead giants truly were for the first time, around fifteen stories. They’d been ordered to leave the giants alone as much as possible and focus on clearing out the small ones. Two of the planes were going to come in and try to shoot them down with a barrage of missiles. This would wait, however, until most of the regular-sized dead were destroyed so the units could move out of the attack zone and minimize the risk of injury or fatality to the squads.

  Crowds of the dead were gathered. Some turned and looked at her with blank stares; others remained facing the other way as if in some kind of trance.

  “Now we send you back to Hell,” Billie said and opened fire. The DK-14-P2-X—or DK-14 as she called it for short—raised its arms. Alongside each was a Gatling gun. She mashed down on the triggers and the guns opened fire. A barrage of bullets went straight into the horde of the dead in front of her. She tried aiming for their heads, but it was easier said than done from inside the mech. The undead fell down in waves before her, their bodies jerking and twitching at rapid speed as they were riddled with bullets. Heads were blown off some, simple shots, even ricochets hitting others in the skull. Billie released the triggers and set the mech in motion to get closer. The DK-14 rocked as it stepped on the bodies of the undead, its shocks and balancing mechanisms kicking in to keep it from tipping.

  The vast horde of the dead in front of her started moving toward them. Bastian had opened fire beside her. Sven was shooting from inside the Jetlier in complete rapid fire. Billie got to work and started up the Gatlings again. The power of the DK-14 was unbridled. If only they had something like this a year ago then maybe victory would’ve been theirs and all the pain and torment wouldn’t have happened.

  Bullets flew. Zombies were torn apart in shreds of flesh, bone, brain—payback.

  * * * *

  The nonstop cracks of gunfire sent everyone in the billiard room to the door again. Joe couldn’t believe the sound. It was a cacophony of gunshots, grenades, shouts and screams.

  “It’s a warzone,” Tracy said.

  “Maybe it’s a rescue mission,” he said, “or a liberation mission. I thought the army was totally down.”

  “They’re supposed to be,” Tracy said.

  Judging by the immense amount of heavy gunfire and how, by the way the ground started to shake, the giant zombies had gotten mobile again, he worried the battle would come to their front door.

  “Ears open at all times,” Dean said.

  “Agreed,” Tracy replied.

  “Just let me out and I’ll join them,” Rob said and smacked his fist into his palm.

  “No,” Joe said, “we lay low as planned. We have to. You go out there, you’re a dead man. Are you listening to this? I have to raise my voice just so you can hear me. We stay here and if or when we have to move, we stay together. We’ve lost enough people today already.”

  * * * *

  30

  Getting Out

  Billie’s squad had been the first dropped off. Others were coming in, but due to space issues, they had to land further away.

  The Gatling guns rattled the DK-14 as she fired. Every so often she’d stop, take the mech over near a larger group of the dead and open fire again.

  The ground shook as the giants started moving. One threw a fit and brought its hands into the side of a building, wailing on it and bringing it down, creating a whirlwind storm of dust and debris. One of the others had stormed over to a line of ATVs that had been packed full of guns and cannons, not caring if it stepped on its small counterparts. It brought its foot down on an ATV and squashed it in a violent smash of metal and explosion of flame. The giant’s foot caught ablaze. As it stomped on the other ATVs, the vehicles exploded, taking out men and zombie alike.

  “We got to keep on the move unless we meet the same fate,” Billie said into the comm. “What’s the ETA on the bombers?”

  “Fourteen minutes,” came the squad leader.

  “Roger.” Love it. She blasted away at the dead, dismantling them bullet by bullet, skull by skull.

  Peeking off to the side, she saw Sven take the Jetlier up on a sidewalk and bulldoze a couple of rotters before opening fire on a rank of them. When they started to swarm his vehicle, her heart picked up pace, but he managed to turn it around and get away.

  One of the other platoons must’ve arrived because she saw a crowd of them blasting machine guns and hurling grenades while other mechs fought the dead.

  Bastian seemed to be having a heyday beside her. She didn’t think he had stopped pulling the trigger since he first opened fire.

  Billie progressed forward then suddenly tipped to the side when the ground shook the same time the DK-14 stepped on a fallen body. The balancing systems prevented her from falling over, thank goodness.

  Signaling to Bastian and Sven: “B-6, B-7, we’re going to back it up, go left, then come in from the side. Copy?”

  “Yah.”

  “Yah.”

  Billie turned the mech around and proceeded as planned. A sudden boom rocked the DK-14 and the entire unit pitched forward, sending her DK to the ground face first.

  Over the comm., Bastian screamed then went into radio silence.

  “Bastian!” It was Sven.

  Oh no, Billie thought. “Sven!”

  “Big trouble,” came his voice. “Bastian is . . .” His voice broke at the end.

  “Don’t get out of the Jetlier, Sven. You can’t or—” The mech lifted off the ground and Billie was suddenly airborne inside the cockpit, the sudden change in inertia lifting her backside from the cushion; even her hands and feet rose from where they were supposed to be. Through the window, the brown and gray of the sky was changing places with the pavement and—dark yellow of dead grass raced up to meet her.

  A giant. Hate those, she thought.

  Once again face first, she settled herself back where she was supposed to be inside the cockpit.

  “Sven, do you copy?”

  “Use proper name protocol, B-8,” came the squad leader.

  A few panicked screams came through the comm. right after.

  “Bastian’s down,” she said, tears welling in her eyes.

  “I said—”

  “Shut up! Who cares about stupid protocol? Someone just . . . died.”

  “We’re in a war, B-8. Get used to it.”

  How could anyone be so cold? Furious, Billie got to work manipulating the controls so the mech could right itself and get moving again, all the while checking in with “B-6” —Sven.

  Finally he came through after she got the DK-14 upright. “Sorry, fräulein.
I’m okay on outside, but not inside.”

  “Oh Sv—B-6—I’m so sorry.” She desperately wanted to give him a hug and take care of him so he could grieve, but as she looked out the mech’s window, she couldn’t see him. “Where are you, B-6?” No answer. More chatter came through the comm. Another soldier was being eaten alive in front of her. “B-6? B-6!”

  Sven remained quiet.

  * * * *

  The entire place was beginning to rattle. Joe and the others were gathered around the pool table, each re-arming themselves. They were well-stocked, no doubt about it. Everyone’s weapons were arranged in their own square on the table. Joe had his .9mm and a belt full of clips. Tracy the same. Dean had his glock, with a series of magazines, but not in the same volume as Joe and Tracy. He stuffed his pockets with them. Rob had a rifle, two boxes of bullets, and a simple handgun, one he’d been carrying since all this began. Unfortunately, he ran out of bullets for it a long time ago and only hung onto it for sentimental reasons. Jessica didn’t have anything, and so two of the pool cues were refashioned for her, each having been broken in the middle, creating jagged points and carved to be sharp and useable thanks to the knives at the bar.

  A loud, deep boom made everyone pause for a moment before they finished loading up.

  Outside, the sounds of war increased even more.

  A loud explosion followed by a thundering crash made everyone hold onto the edge of the pool table. The ground shook and rumbled so bad that Jessica lost her footing and fell; Rob slipped, too, but managed to retain his balance.

  More crashes and booms until a violent crack echoed through the room. The concrete wall by the door split, a giant jagged gash running from floor to ceiling. Joe also noticed the boards against the door had gone partly loose, some of them cracked as well.

  Something hit the building and crashed through the window upstairs, creating a series of smacks and bangs as whatever came through bulldozed everything in its path.