Ali nodded and ran back to where the red buttons were. There was a buzzing sound, and the electronic lock on the plastic cell door clicked. Cyrus stepped forward, and Billy stepped back, putting a second hand on his pistol. Cyrus slid the door open, as Ali returned.
“You’re going first, Ali will open the doors, and I will shoot you if you try anything.”
“Agreed.”
“Ok, let’s book.”
The three moved off together, just as Billy had planned. Cyrus walked with his hands clasped behind his back, Billy covering him. They left the level four wing, progressed back through the T-junction, and in five minutes came to their first locked double doors, the dead boy’s body splayed out next to them. Ali checked the corridor through the security window before she opened the doors.
“There’s one out there. Looks like a slow one.”
“Ok, I can deal with it, but you’ll have to cover him while I do.” Billy looked at Cyrus, and Ali nodded.
“K, do it.”
She opened the door, and the creature immediately came towards them. Ali and Cyrus backed up, but Billy stood his ground. Once again the creature stopped a few feet short of Billy.
“What is the meaning of this?” demanded Cyrus. “Why doesn’t it attack you?”
The thing looked at Cyrus, then back at Billy, its left eye dripping crimson.
“It’s my superhero power!” Billy exclaimed. “They don’t…
The thing lunged, grabbing him by his shirt. In utter surprise, Billy tried to fight the thing off, only to slip on the bloody floor and fall on his backside. The gun went clattering away, and the creature was atop him, Billy pushing its head away as it tried to snap at him. The thing was strong and it pulled hard on Billy’s shirt. It was all he could do to keep it from biting him.
“Shoot it!” he yelled.
“I don’t want to hit you!”
“Just shoot it!”
Ali ran up, put her pistol to the side of the thing’s head and pulled the trigger. The infected’s head snapped left, and suddenly Billy was holding dead weight. He threw it off of him and stood up. They looked at each other, and then looked at Cyrus. He was pointing Billy’s gun at them.
Ali started lifting her pistol, but Cyrus stopped her. “Uh-uh. Point it at the ground please.” She did.
“You let me out of my cell. I consider this a boon. Such windfalls are difficult to come by. For that I thank you, and will not harm you. I am not so gregarious as to require your company, but I do need this weapon.
Cyrus moved around them, the business end of the gun never wavering. As he walked through the double doors, he glanced over his shoulder to make sure the corridor was empty. “Best of luck to you both.”
Cyrus ran down the corridor and disappeared around a corner. There were two quick gunshots, spurring Billy and Ali onward. They cautiously turned a corner, only to find the corridor empty. The front doors were wide open, and daylight was streaming into the dimly lit entryway. They walked down the hallway and into the light.
There was no sign of Cyrus, but his gunshots had certainly attracted some unwanted attention. A horde of undead was steadily making its way towards the hospital, and its remaining two occupants.
“Oh shit,” Billy said.
Two firsts had occurred at that moment: Billy swore, and Billy was afraid.
14
It was just after dawn, the sun licking the waves. Martinez studied the bay from his sniper spot on a huge water tower under a cloudless sky. It looks like a billion diamonds in the water, he thought as he brought his rifle up. He used his high-powered scope to view two vessels steaming toward his island refuge.
He keyed the mike on his radio: “Two tug boats, fairly large, are coming across the bay from Fisherman’s Wharf sir. Looks to be a lot of gang bangers on board, over.”
“Roger that Martinez,” Meara answered, “let me know if they change course, over. Barnes, come in?
“Go for Barnes.”
“Rick, they’re on the way. How are you settled, over?”
“Excellent sir, all four squads are in position. We have the docks and the northeast center entryways covered with the fifty cal, and the southeast gangway is covered with two M60s. Roving squad two is on the south end of the island, and nobody’s coming up the north end without serious climbing gear. Snipers are located throughout the island, and we’ve got claymores on the beach and gangways, over.”
“Outstanding Rick. Have one of the reserve squads cover the north end of the island just in case. Pick them off with small arms fire should they be stupid enough to try to climb it, over.”
“Will do sir. We’re looking for some payback for the school, and all hands are armed to the teeth. Barnes out.”
Meara put his radio down and looked out at the bay. He could just make out the tugs as they came directly at Alcatraz from San Francisco. He smiled, hoping his ruse would work. All of the information that had been transmitted between Rick and himself was bullshit. There were no squads, no heavy weaponry, and no mines. In reality, they had eight rifles and twenty three fighters on the island. If the opposition got a foothold, then his merry band of survivors was doomed. The kids were hidden very well, but how long could you keep scared kids a secret? They were in for the fight of their lives, and Meara knew it. He hoped that the bad guys would be listening to the information he had just broadcast. The boats didn’t seem to be turning, so hoping they believed him was a waste of time.
Fifteen minutes later, he called Martinez.
“Martinez, go to the secondary frequency.”
“Here sir.”
“Give me a SITREP.”
“They’ve split up, and one boat is hanging back. The other looks to be headed for the docks.”
“How are they doing for weapons?”
“Theirs are better sir. There’s a fifty cal on the bow of both boats, and the fuckers are actually cheering and waving around all sorts of weapons. I saw two M47 Dragons on the boat that’s hanging back, but I can’t make out much of the other attacker other than the fifty cal. She’ll be rounding the southern part of the island in five minutes. There’s a guy spotting from the wheelhouse with the biggest pair of binoculars I’ve ever seen, and I get out a lot”
“Copy. Uh, what’s a Dragon?”
“Anti-tank weapon, a missile.”
“Jesus…”
This last was punctuated with a full thirty seconds of silence.
“Sir, what would you like me to do?”
“Dammit, take out the gunner and spotter, then fire at will.” Meara sighed.
“Copy, dialing in now.” Martinez wiped his eyes and sighted on the man at the heavy gun. One shot through the chest sent the man spinning away from the weapon. The sniper next sighted the man with the binoculars. The target was two hundred yards away, but the distance appeared a mere fifty feet when viewed through the scope. The boat was bobbing all over the place, bringing the man’s head in and out of the crosshairs. With a slight lead on his target, Martinez waited until the unfortunate man’s head just started to come back into the scope, then he fired. The man flew backwards clutching at his ruined throat.
“Shit.”
Martinez had missed his shot, but still killed the target. No one on the boat had seen the hit, as the man was alone near the port gunwale. The dead man slumped against the bulkhead, sliding down to the deck. The sniper next sighted on the wheel house and put a .308 caliber round into the boat pilot’s chest, punching a neat hole through in the glass window. There were two others in the wheelhouse who came to the pilot’s aid. One went down with a bullet through his back, and the other ducked.
Martinez shifted position slightly and sighted on the person moving toward the .50 caliber machine gun on the bow. “Nope.” The man was hit center mass and flopped back. “How’s that shit-bird?” Sighting the back of the tug, he dropped two more before anyone knew what was happening. Panic ensued shortly after, and the group started firing their weapons at the island fro
m an eighth of a mile away. “Nice weapon discipline, morons.” He was switching to fire on the wheelhouse again, when he noticed that the man with the binoculars was getting up. He smiled. Didn’t think of that, bonus!
Suddenly the contrail from a missile streaked past his perch on the water tower, and fifty caliber shells ripped through the tower metal, each large hole spewing filthy water. The other boat had begun firing on him.
“Sir, gotta bug out to my secondary!” he yelled into the radio.
He didn’t wait for a reply as he climbed down the long ladder to the island. He ran a short distance to a covered blind he had made and set up the night before and ducked inside. Flipping his radio to the primary frequency, Martinez heard something quite interesting.
“-ssholes! We’re gonna kill all you motherfuckers! All of you! When the Doc hears you fuckers shot first, he’ll torture every last one of you!”
“How are you going to torture us if you kill us first, you moron?” Meara’s voice.
“Fuck you! I’m gonna slit you open! I can’t wait for…”
A new voice cut in:
“To the vessel attacking Alcatraz: This is Commander Kevin McInerney of the USS Florida. We have a firing solution prepared, and we have you acquired. This is your one and only warning to turn back before we sink you. We have monitored the…”
“Nice try dickhead! We ain’t buyin’ it! Gonna do a dance on your face!”
The man continued shouting epithets and promising death for another thirty seconds or so, after which the tug boat simply exploded. Debris shot skyward, and flaming and broken forms flew from the back of the tug like torn rag dolls. The burning boat showed a horrific starboard list for a few seconds before it, quite literally, broke in half and slipped beneath the waves. Several struggling shapes were carried away by the strong current of San Francisco Bay. Smoking splinters, some floating debris, and a burning fuel slick were the only indications that a boat had been there at all.
Martinez scanned the water with his scope, looking for enemies coming ashore. There were none. The second boat opened up with the fifty caliber again, spraying nothing in particular. Another contrail flew over the island. Might have the toys, but they don’t know shit about trajectory headings, he thought.
The radio buzzed again:
“To the second vessel attacking Alcatraz: Cease fire immediately and return to port or you will be fired upon! Repeat, cease fire immediately! You will receive no other warning!” A few seconds more of the fifty caliber rounds, and the firing stopped. Martinez looked through his scope at the second boat, and was relieved to see it turning around.
“Sir! Second tug is leaving! They’re going home, sir. Request permission to shit myself?”
“Denied. RTB Martinez.”
“Copy that sir.”
15
“Give me your hand! Reach dammit!”
Ali jumped, but missed Billy’s outstretched arm for the third time.
“I’m trying, you’re too high!”
The moans and cries of the undead were beginning to reach a deafening level as Ali continued to try to gain access to a rusty, sagging fire escape.
“REACH! They’re in the alley and coming! Half the city is behind you! Jump or you die!”
Ali jumped one more time and Billy grabbed her by the wrist. She was heavy, and he wasn’t Hercules.
“Climb up! Grab my head, anything!”
She frantically grabbed his arm with her other hand and yanked herself higher. She felt fingers brush her hospital bootie, and screamed, redoubling her efforts. Billy pulled too, and together they managed to get her on to the cage-like metal bars of the fire escape landing, sans bootie. There were hundreds of frustrated dead reaching for them not ten feet below. She was lying on her back, panting when Billy started pulling her up.
“C’mon, they’re hungry and riled, let’s get inside.”
Ali got to her feet as Billy started looking for a way indoors. The first window he tried was unlocked, and he climbed through before reaching back out to help Ali over the sill. The place was spacious, and even had a fireplace. There was also an elderly zombie dressed in a blood drenched nightgown staggering toward them from the kitchen, growling. She looked pregnant, but had easily been in her seventies when she died.
“Shit!” Ali yelled pointing.
Billy rolled left coming up with a fireplace poker. It was one of the short types, barely fifteen inches long. He charged the dead granny and struck the left side of her head with the poker. She didn’t even stagger, but came on even stronger, eager at his proximity.
Billy started yelling and repeatedly smacking the thing in the head until it collapsed. As it struggled to get back up, he picked up an end table and brought it down on the creature’s neck. He switched back to the poker and finished the job, but not before thumping started somewhere in the apartment.
“Not one second to catch our breath? Let’s check out the apartment. She doesn’t have any bites on her that I can see, so she may have been in here alone and just died.” He indicated the dead woman with a nod from his chin.
Ali nodded and stood up. The thuds continued.
“Do you think we should find out where that’s coming from first?” she asked.
“Yeah, no more surprises. See if you can find anything to defend ourselves with, and I’ll check the noise.”
“No friggin way! We’re sticking together. Sorry, but you’re stuck with me for the duration.”
Billy smiled. “Well, you can handle yourself, but you sucked with the gun…”
Immediately upon leaving the hospital, the two had been set upon by a growing horde of undead. They took off running, the creatures in pursuit. Within a half a mile, Ali had fired the pistol until the chamber clicked empty without scoring a single head shot.
She had lost the pistol somewhere as she had been running. For a half hour, they had run through the streets, dodging the dead who had accumulated in small groups. A large group of more than fifty appeared suddenly in their path, and they had to think fast. The open doorway of a convenience store beckoned, and they ran in, slamming the wire-reinforced door behind them. By the look of the place, there had been a fight to the death in the store.
Overturned shelves, crushed packages, and bullet casings littered the floor. There was a great deal of blood, but no bodies.
During their search of the place, the dead had reached the store, and started banging on the wire-covered glass in the windows and door. Grabbing a quick snack of soda and candy bars, Billy and Ali stuffed what canned and preserved foods they could fit into two blue cloth shopping bags.
The front window shattered as the dead pulled on the mesh. All were fresh, most with terrible wounds, their tattered clothing drenched with infected blood.
Billy and Ali hurriedly explored the rest of the tiny store, and found a back door and a small hatch in the ceiling. The door had a peep hole, and when Billy checked, he shook his head in a definite no, and they looked for another way out. The access led to the roof, and Ali dragged a step ladder over, the two climbing up and through quickly. As she was shutting the trapdoor, the front window mesh gave way, and the dead poured in.
The roof somehow seemed smaller than the store below. Billy peered over one side and looked down into an alley. There were dozens of moaning corpses milling about below. There was an apartment building about fifteen feet away, but the building’s fire escape occupied part of the gap. It was still a long jump, and if they missed and fell, they were done. There was no coming back from that.
Billy took a running jump and made it easily. Ali tossed her sack of supplies across the gap to Billy, then made the jump herself. She only had hospital booties on, and she was travelling across a gravel roof. She made it, but just. They climbed the metal structure gaining entrance through a broken window on the third floor. They entered a hall, and could see immediately that their fortunes had improved only slightly. Several of the doors had been broken down, and familiar brown and red
stains coated the walls and floor in many places.
Moans seemed to come from all directions inside the building, so the two took the stairs to the lobby. The street in front of the building was relatively clear, as most of the dead in the area were congregated around the store they had just come from.
Their brief pause to scout out their next move was disturbed by a series of thuds coming down the stairs behind them. They burst out the front doors and ran left, skirting dead, reaching claws as they did so.
Less than half a minute down the street and it became clear that there was nowhere to go, as the dead were crowded so thickly in most directions. They dodged down an open-ended alley trying to escape. Before they were able to negotiate the narrow path, the other end filled with dead, and they were trapped.
Yet another fire escape loomed overhead, but the down-ladder was gone. Billy took a big running leap and missed. He dropped his bag of goodies and tried again, this time managing to grab the edge of the metal platform. He pulled himself up, then stretched one arm down toward the ground while he held on to the iron frame with the other.
“REACH!” he yelled to Ali.
A thorough search of the apartment yielded little in the way of weapons, save for the already bloodied fireplace poker, and one of the legs from the smashed end table. There was pawing behind one of the closed doors, and an argument ensued about what to do about it.
“If the smallest scratch is enough to kill you, then it’s stupid to open that door!” hissed Ali. “We’ve been incredibly lucky this far!”
“Yeah, but it’s right there, this might be our best chance to smoke it! If we do end up staying here, I don’t want to sleep with the thing scratching at the door! And how do you know the ‘smallest scratch’ is enough?”
“Because I was only a level two! They let us watch TV in the common room! This is the same shit that’s killed the east coast. It was a miracle it took as long as it did to get here. It was already overseas before it reached the west coast.” Ali looked quizzical for a moment, brows furrowed. “Stay here? The whole area is infested with those things. They’ll eventually get in here and tear us to pieces.”
Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller Page 13