“Key word being eventually. We need to kill this one now,” he pointed the poker at the door, “cuz it’s making all kinds of noise! It’s gonna attract every dead person in a half mile radius! If we keep quiet, maybe they’ll all take a hike! Then we can at least rest for a bit.”
“Fine. Just like at Morningside then. I’ll open the door, and you beat the shit out of whatever comes out.”
Billy looked at his poker, then at the table leg Ali was holding. He offered her the poker, and pointed to her weapon. Ali sighed, and they traded. Billy held up three fingers and Ali nodded. She put her hand on the door knob, and Billy counted down using his fingers. Three, two, one, and Ali yanked the door open as Billy brought up his table leg in a Barry Bonds stance. The doorway was empty. There was so much blood in the room, it was difficult to tell what the original color had been. The bed, the end tables, the rocking chair in the corner and the walls were all covered in gore. Even the ceiling was dripping with arterial spray patterns. The light from a blood-covered lampshade threw an eerie red glow throughout the already crimson room.
The toe of a beige slipper stuck out from the far side of the bed near the red-spattered window. The shoe moved ever so slightly, but that was it. The scratching they had heard inside the apartment had come from over there, and not near the door as they had originally thought. Billy cautiously entered the room, stepping in the few small spots where there was no blood on the carpet. He looked at the thing attached to the slipper and was mildly impressed.
“Wow, she really did a number on him.”
There was little left of the person in front of him. The entire chest and abdominal cavities were gone. Ribs were strewn across the floor along with the right radius and ulna. The meat of the right bicep was mostly gone, and the left forearm sported a random pattern of semicircle bites. The neck, face, and scalp were torn away, and a single, scarlet eye tracked Billy as he moved. The scratching resumed as the thing grabbed the wooden bed frame with bloody, broken fingernails. Deep scratches were dug in the wood of the bed. The creature was too mangled to get up, but the scratching was unbelievably loud. As Billy stepped near it, it reached for him with its chewed right forearm and nub of left humerus. Billy beat it until it stopped moving.
There was muted hammering someplace else in the building, but the immediate threat of discovery seemed to have been averted. Billy looked out the stained window to see that the dead outside the building seemed to be meandering off. Ali came in and looked at the dead thing, immediately wishing she hadn’t.
“Jesus, I thought the old lady was pregnant!”
“Nope, that’s him in her belly.”
The two of them dragged the dead woman from the living area into the bloodstained bedroom, closing the door behind them.
Billy grabbed a couple of cans of diet orange soda from the fridge. He moved to the living room, sat on the couch, and put a soda can to his head.
“Better,” he said, and held a can up in the air for Ali to grab.
She took it and sat in a chair across from him. “What now?”
“We drink these, and eat something. Pack as much stuff as we can in whatever we can find, and keep as quiet as possible. We’ll leave as soon as it clears a little outside.
“Terrific.”
“Oh? Had other plans didja?”
“No, but now that I’ve had a few seconds to be less terrified, I’ve been thinking.”
“And?”
“And… I’m locked in a room with a sociopath, and that’s the good news.”
Billy smiled. “Lest we forget, I rescued you from a locked room surrounded by the living dead and escorted you to a safe place at great personal expense. You didn’t even mention the worst thing, scarier even than the zombies.”
She looked at him incredulously, “What could possibly be worse than an army of ravenous dead?”
Billy pulled the can off his forehead, popped the top and guzzled half the contents before answering.
“Cyrus.”
16
Rick stared at the giant black cylinder anchored two hundred yards off of the northern end of Alcatraz. It truly was a marvel. A massive tube of metal that could dive beneath the waves, and sneak up on unsuspecting targets to unleash a rain of nuclear fire.
After quick introductions (and thanks) via the radio, two small transport boats were approaching Alcatraz from the sub. There were eight people aboard, seven of which had weapons pointed in the general direction of the small knot of people nervously waiting at the dock.
Meara’s radio buzzed: “Eight on board sir, seven heavy hitters, and management. I see three MP-5s, three M-4s, and…holy shit sir, an AA-12. Looks to be two snipers on the conn of that sub too sir, both with M-24s.”
“Martinez, I’m a cop not a commando. Stop throwing weapon numbers at me.”
“Sorry sir, but if they turn out unfriendly, we’re in big trouble.”
“Then we should be on our best behavior. Everyone, weapons on the dock, these should be the good guys, but I don’t want to piss anybody off. Their trigger fingers are probably as itchy as ours, and they did just save our collective asses, so they get a pass for now.”
The black inflatable crafts came to a halt at the dock. Chris Rawding and Anna Hargis stepped forward, to catch and secure lines tossed up by some of the crew of the inflatables. All of the crew from the sub were wearing black camouflage and tactical webbing. Weapons from the new comers were pointed low, but not at the ground, fingers on trigger guards.
Two men from the first boat jumped out and one helped out a third. This third man put a white hat with a black visor housing an eagle over a shield on his head as he walked forward. “Thank you,” he said to Anna and Chris. “Where is Captain Meara?”
Meara and Rick stepped forward.
“I’m Meara.”
The man stuck out his hand, which Meara immediately took.
“Captain, I am Commander McInerney, Captain of the USS Florida. We aren’t here to hurt you, take anything that is yours, or conscript anyone, you have my word. This having been said, we are in need of information, and have some to give as well.”
“Commander, you are most welcome here. Thank you for taking care of our little problem earlier. I don’t think we would have been able to hold out too long against those thugs with the few weapons and personnel we have. Please, come with us up to our command center and we can talk at your leisure.”
“I’d love to. May I bring some of my men?”
“Yes, of course, this is my second, Detective Rick Barnes. Forgive me Commander, but we have a sniper on you - I would like to call him off, if that’s OK.”
“Unnecessary Captain. If you would take a look behind you?”
The captain’s face was impassive as Meara and Rick turned around to see Martinez, with his hands behind his head, being escorted to the dock by two unknown men. The men were dressed in black and had automatic weapons at the ready. One of the men had Martinez’s SR25 slung over his shoulder.
The commander looked back to one of the boats. “Lieutenant commander, if you would please call off the dogs?”
A man nodded, and stepped out onto the dock. “Sir! Hammer Platoon, stand down! Repeat stand down! Assemble on the dock at my twenty!”
Two men came from the brush to the left, two in wet-suits climbed over different sides of the dock, and another sprung up from absolutely nowhere, covered in dust and dirt. All were armed to the teeth.
As Martinez and his captors reached the dock, the lieutenant commander instructed the men to return Martinez’s rifle.
“Well, they’ve come prepared,” Rick said under his breath.
“Doesn’t always help, Detective Barnes.” The Commander looked back at his sub with regret, “Not always.”
They made the quick walk up to Meara’s command room, with small talk along the way. The residents of Alcatraz learned that the crew of the Florida had suffered their own outbreak during the past two days. Fourteen crew members had been k
illed, including one who had taken his own life, and two that had been euthanized after being bitten. The real talking started once Meara and Commander McInerney were seated at a rusty metal table, the pleasant aroma from multiple cups of coffee flooding the large room.
“I guess we need to know two things, Commander. Number one, we would like news of what’s happening throughout the United States. We really don’t know anything other than the east coast was in as much trouble as we are. Can you give us any information?”
McInerney took a long draught from his ceramic 49ers coffee mug and set it down. He considered his words carefully, and spoke concisely in his authoritative voice.
“There is no more United States. Near as we can tell, every major city is overrun. The US military has suffered approximately eighty percent casualties, not counting desertion, and the casualty rate isn’t higher only because about thirty percent of the navy was at sea. The president and the Joint Chiefs were supposed to go to Barro Colorado, which is an island inside the Panama Canal, because NORAD fell from the inside. I don’t know if they made it. We also haven’t had any word from COMPAC, the US Pacific Command, in almost thirty hours, but the last thing we heard was that there was serious consideration about detonating a high yield nuclear device over New York City.”
“Jesus Christ…” breathed Barnes. “What about our forces in other countries, can’t they be called back?”
“There have been outbreaks in every country around the world, there’s no place immune. Our boys on foreign soil are in no less of a fight than we are here. Europe and Australia are in a desperate battle against the undead, and China went nuclear on Bejing this past Saturday.”
The room was dead silent as the commander took another sip from his coffee.
“Gentlemen, our country, our planet has been taken over by a hostile enemy. An enemy that is incredibly difficult to defeat. The most sinister aspect of this war is that we aren’t fighting a foreign country, or a radical government, or even terrorists. We’re battling grandma, and your sister, and the kid with the tricycle on the corner. And we’re losing.”
“What can we do?” Barnes demanded.
“We fight back God damn it!” shouted Martinez. ”We organize, and gain strength and firepower, then we smash them back to the Hell they came from!”
Commander McInerney smiled. “I like your enthusiasm son, I do. What you’re suggesting is the plan too, at least my plan. The problem is, as a military, we’re scattered. We need people and weapons, but more importantly, we need to know what we’re fighting. We all know the who, but we don’t know the how or the why. How and why the dead come back to life, why they’re hostile. What means we can use to destroy them.”
He let the Alcatraz folks digest this information before he continued.
“What was your second question?”
“What do you want with us?” Meara asked immediately.
“I need a port of harbor for my boat. All the major US ports are infected, abandoned, or destroyed. We have an operational functionality of about ten years, not including crew rotation, but we still need food, and a place to effect major repairs should the need arise. I would ask that we could use Alcatraz as a base of operations. I would, of course, provide a military force as security to be controlled by Detective Meara, surveillance of San Francisco to scout, and manpower to assist on foray missions into the city if you would agree to us sharing your island. We would also be willing to share our resources and engage in mutual support.”
Martinez and Wizneski spoke up at the same time:
“Sold!”
“Deal!”
“This is a no-brainer, Mike,” Barnes added.
“Well Commander, I believe you should meet the rest of our group. Alcatraz is police controlled, but I would still like to see what the civilians have to say about a military presence here.” Meara snorted, “I can think of one who might take issue…”
“Fair enough, Captain. Shall we?”
17
The best word to describe their pursuers was relentless.
After deciding to hole up in the apartment, Ali and Billy had been able to rest for about an hour before banging started in the hallway outside. When Billy looked through the peephole in the front door, he only saw one creature; nevertheless the thing had somehow discovered them and was doing its best to break through the door.
The duo had already shed their hospital attire, and donned some of the elderly couple’s clothes. After grabbing two matching yellow backpacks (multiple photographs throughout the apartment led them to believe that the owners, although septuagenarians, had been avid backpackers), they filled them with as much food and drink as they could carry. They decided that discretion was the better part of valor and used the fire escape to get to the top of the building. They roof-hopped a few times until they landed on the gravel rooftop of yet another apartment building, this one with a huge, intricate garden.
“Wow, this is really gorgeous!” Ali kept her admiration to a whisper.
“Yeah, it’s pretty, but how do they keep finding us? We haven’t made a peep!” Billy whispered back.
“I don’t know, maybe they can smell us? See our auras or read our minds?”
“Great. EZP, Extra Zombie Perception. If they start to fly, I’m gonna get angry.”
“Yeah, and you’ll get eaten too. Anyway, look at the flowers, and over there: Yellow bell peppers!” She walked down a flower aisle and over to the peppers, picked one, and bit into it. “Oh! Oh my God, you gotta try this!”
As she stepped past a line of knee-high blue and pink hydrangea bushes, a bloody, bandaged hand shot out from the leaves and grabbed her jeans. She yelped and fell on her backside, kicking at the hand. A second hand came out and went palm down on the flagstone walk, the rest of the creature following. Billy rushed to her aid, whacking the zombie on the side of its filthy cranium with his table leg as Ali attempted to kick it away. Billy smacked it again and the creature fell off to Ali’s right side, but it didn’t let go of her pants. Ali kicked more frantically, and the thing finally lost its grip. She scurried backwards like a crab, and Billy swung again and again until the creature stopped moving.
Visibly shaken, Ali stood up and started sobbing. “They’re everywhere. We’re never going to make it. We can’t even get down from here.”
“We’ll be OK if we keep our heads. They’re stupid and we aren’t. Besides, I’ve got a plan.”
“A plan?”
“A plan.”
“Care to share?”
“Yup. I gots me a boat! Let’s drag ourselves to Alcatraz!”
Ali smiled. “Good plan. How do we get there?”
“I didn’t say it was all figured out yet. There’re some details to iron out, but we’ll make it.”
Billy poked his head over the edge of the building, checking the avenue below. It was thick with the living dead. He walked around the edge of the roof, realizing that there was no place else to jump to. They would have to use the street, carpet of dead or no.
Looking through a skylight for a solid five minutes, neither of them saw any movement in the apartment below. Billy rapped his knuckles on the dirty glass, but no dead faces peered back at him. He searched for locks on the skylight to open it, but there were none. He was about to break the glass with his table leg when Ali stopped him.
“Let’s try the door,” she said pointing.
Billy dubiously approached the roof access door. “It’ll never be op—” the door opened on the first try. Billy shrugged and, not waiting for his eyes to adjust from the sunlight, descended into the darkness to a wooden door. He put his head to the door for a minute and then opened it wide. Ali followed him into the third floor apartment, and they started checking rooms.
The front door, which Hercules would have had trouble battering down, was locked with eight locks and a metal locking bar attached to a plate in the floor.
“This place is a fortress. Dead dude on the roof must have locked himself in.
That crappy bandage on his hand must mean he was bitten first, and died locked in here, or even on the roof.”
“Yeah,” Ali agreed. “What do we do now? Each time we kick back for a minute, they’re on us. I don’t want to be lunch.”
“Well, we’re going to need to go back outside, and that isn’t going to be fun.”
“Then let’s do it now, before I get too damn scared.”
They continued searching the apartment again, this time for anything useful they could scavenge. The man who had lived here had been a sports enthusiast, evidenced by the many photos, trophies, and sports equipment. Many of the photos were of a man rock climbing, but two were of the same man holding a huge, freshly killed twelve point buck. There was no weapon in the picture, but Billy deduced that there must be a shotgun or rifle someplace in the apartment.
Ali stepped into one room and gasped. Billy, behind her, tightened his grip on his table leg and, calmly considering the circumstances, asked what was wrong.
“There’s a racing bicycle hung upside down in this bedroom and it scared the crap out of me. I thought it was one of them.”
“A zombie hanging from the ceiling? Zombie monkeys?”
“Whatever. It was the unexpected big-ness that scared me.”
The bedroom containing the bicycle had been converted into a storage room for the apartment owner’s gear. In one closet, Billy found a bag containing climbing equipment, including two ice axes and an entrenching tool. There was also a serious backpack made to carry climbing and camping gear.
“Oh, I like this room,” Billy said to himself.
“You gotta give me one of those axes!”
“Finders keepers! Would you check the fridge and see if there’s anything we can use?”
Ali huffed, but she left the room. Billy was able to come up with a baseball bat and some golf clubs in addition to his ice axes. All good weapons, he thought.
Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller Page 14