MZS: Philadelphia (Metropolitan Zombie Survivors Book 3)

by McAdams, K. D.

“No, I wanted privacy so I could practice my guitar,” he says, sarcastic. “Of course I saw the Humvee. We need to get down to the street so we are there when the cavalry comes rolling in. The stairwell with the door to the street is clear, but we have a few obstacles between us and there.”

  “Third floor is clear. I just got back about ten minutes ago.”

  “Then let’s hit it. I’m Damon, by the way,” he sticks out his hand to shake.

  “Hi Damon. I’m Parker.”

  “Enough nice-nice. Let’s go. Fast and silent.”

  Damon heads down the flight of stairs and waits for me by the door to the third floor hallway. On more than one step I think this could be a trap. He could be working with the shooters. But if it’s true, I should be dead already. I can think of no value that would come from tricking me before killing me.

  As we dash down the hallway, I’m screaming inside my head: faster, quieter! The pressure to not make a sound but to keep pace with the guy in front of me is more taxing mentally than physically. Sweat comes heavily and I think I smell whiskey.

  For some reason I expect the worst when Damon opens the door to the stairwell. His movements are sure and steady. A moment after he’s through, a hand comes out and waves me forward. It’s a good opportunity for them to ambush me, but right now I don’t have any more choices.

  When I’m through the door, it takes my eyes a second to adjust to the slightly darker space. I faintly hear Damon on the stairs below me and quickly begin my descent.

  The exit door has a side window that lets in natural light and allows us to look out and survey the road. It’s a smart design that I never would have recognized in daily life.

  Damon bursts through and I follow several paces behind. As the door slowly closes, I remember not having my room key. If this closes all the way, we will be stuck out here.

  I stop and spin to catch the door with plenty of time to spare. Looking back over my shoulder to Damon, I draw in a breath to call to him.

  His head explodes.

  McLean

  Chapter 6

  “That was a gunshot,” Cupcake calls out into the rig.

  “Any guess on the direction?” Patrick asks urgently.

  “Behind us.” Tucker has stooped down from the turret. I’m not sure how he heard us.

  “You know what to do if someone starts shooting?” Todd hollers up to the turret. His eyes are wild and chilling.

  “Grip it and rip it baby!” Tucker calls down, equally excited.

  Whoever it is could be shooting zombies. To lockdown the entire city, survivors would have to be well-prepared. Guns are probably included in those preparations.

  “Can zombies use guns?” I ask.

  Todd directs a vacant stare at me. He wants to hear the sound of the machine gun clattering.

  Patrick steps in. “Seriously guys, easy on the machine gun. We heard one shot and should assume it was for a zombie,” he says.

  “Maybe it was a signal for everyone to meet at the Liberty Bell?” I suggest. “Terri, is there any more chatter from the survivors’ rally?” It still doesn’t feel right, but I want to maintain an optimistic attitude.

  “She’s out,” Cupcake calls back from the front.

  Our navigator and communications expert is passed out. Just great. I was worried that she was going to try and take over leadership of the group. Doesn’t seem like it’ll be a problem now.

  The Humvee turns left and slows. Out Todd’s window I see a few cars parked normally and an RV has been pulled up on the sidewalk. Switching over to Patrick’s side, I see no signs of life.

  “I wonder why the cars are here but all the bodies are on the other street?” Cupcake asks over his shoulder.

  This limited visibility is killing me. If the white whale in the front seat wanted to pass out, she could have crammed herself back here. It’s hard for me to take on a tone of leadership when I’m sitting cross-legged and whining, “lemme see.”

  One of my first clients gave me some advice about confidence. He said that no one gives you confidence—it’s something you have to collect on your own. The best time to harvest it is when others are searching for it as well.

  “Go around the block again,” I order Cupcake.

  No one in the truck argues.

  A few minutes later, the truck turns left and we roll in silence.

  Another left turn and Cupcake stops completely.

  “There’s a body in the street.”

  I can’t see it and I have to assume that since it’s being announced, it wasn’t there last time we drove up this street.

  “Pull up to it and stop,” I command.

  I have no idea what to do after we stop. The message said to rally at the Liberty Bell and we are here. We’re also alone, except for a mysterious gunman and several corpses.

  “Jaden, listen to me. When we get out of the truck, I want you to stay back here. Tucker is going to stay too, and Terri is napping in the front seat. Just sit quietly and everything will be okay. Do you understand?”

  The little boy nods at me. There is no fear on his face. I can’t believe that he doesn’t sense the fear that fills the cab. Our reality must not register with his little mind.

  When the Humvee stops, I still don’t have a plan or a sudden bout of confidence. Winging it is still the order of the day.

  “Was it a zombie?” My question breaks the silence.

  “I don’t know how to tell. Whoever took it out used a headshot, so my guess would be yes,” Cupcake answers.

  “No bite marks. All the blood looks like his own. I mean, nothing around the mouth or face like all the undead I’ve seen,” Todd says. Of course he’d add a conflicting perspective.

  Cupcake can hunt and fish and hotwire cars. I bet he wouldn’t consider growing food to be a big challenge. His forensic skills leave a little to be desired, though.

  Indecision takes over. If it was a zombie, then we should get out and run to the Liberty Bell because the survivors are watching over us. If it was a living person who was shot, we either need to solve the mystery or get the hell out of here.

  “Maybe he was just starting to turn and they had to deal with it,” Patrick says, offering a rational explanation.

  “I don’t like the idea of walking through a field of potential zombies,” Cupcake says. “There are a bunch of bodies out there and any one of them could get up and try to eat us.”

  He has a good point. We can’t be too careful around the seemingly dead.

  “I say we get the fuck out of here. This shit ain’t right,” Todd says, offering up his vote before anyone asks for it.

  He’s right, but he’s also wrong. Nothing has felt right since I woke up on Saturday afternoon. This feels as un-right as anything, which must mean it’s the new normal.

  If the guy in the street was alive, it was probably an accident. With guns and people as on edge as we are, that’s going to happen. We have to be cautious, but not stop searching for other survivors. Strength in numbers is why we even decided to come here.

  “Crazy is the new normal,” I say. “We came here to connect with survivors, and we need to check it out. We should be smart and safe, but let’s not run away.”

  “McLean is right. We need to check this out,” Patrick says. It’s nice that he supports me.

  “I say we get out of the car and backtrack down the street and go around to the other side of the Liberty Bell building. That way we avoid most of the bodies and we still can get to the rendezvous point,” I say. My plan is totally improvised.

  “Love it. Let’s roll!” Tucker is excited to move.

  “No. You’re staying here with Jaden and Terri. If anyone shoots at us, you shoot back. Otherwise, leave the gun alone,” I say, squashing his hopes for getting out of the car and running around.

  “Come on. Can’t Todd stay?” he whines.

  “No.” I’m not sure why I take this stance. The truth is, I can’t let Tucker think that fussing will get him what he wants.<
br />
  Four of us pile out of the Humvee. My heart is pounding in my chest and everything feels like a big mistake. We’re all about to die on the streets of Philadelphia, I’m suddenly sure of it.

  Running isn’t part of the plan, but it’s hard not to. Our weird assortment of armor and weapons makes us look a little funny. We’re a ragtag bunch with only determination and ingenuity to keep us going.

  This place makes me think back to the days of the colonies and the American Revolution. One of my favorite colonial paintings shows six or seven men standing around a campfire in winter. They are all wearing different-colored coats and pants and their muskets are crudely leaned up against a nearby tree. They were not formal, but they were unified.

  I hope our small band can stay unified, or at least alive.

  We come up on the outside of the Liberty Bell building and I feel better about our actions. There have been no zombies and no more gunshots. Outside of the RV that is pulled to the sidewalk, Todd pauses. Could this be the base of operations for the rally organizers?

  When Todd puts his hand on the door, Cupcake shakes his head no. If these people are on edge, the last thing we want to do is barge in on their sanctuary.

  Patrick uses rough sign language to direct us silently around the building, similar to the formation we used to enter the apartment building. Todd takes point, followed by Cupcake, then me, and Patrick brings up the rear.

  At the end of the wall, Todd stops and peeks around the corner. It’s not a quick glance; it’s a careful study. Hopefully this will go better than our experience in the apartment back in New York.

  Todd nods at us before moving out.

  When it’s my turn to round the corner, my nose is assaulted by a horrible smell. The stench of death and decay fills the air. My eyes refuse to look away from the carnage. I’m not interested in counting bodies, but there are easily tens of people around the grassy square.

  Something, aside from the obvious, seems odd. I look more closely at the corpses and detect a trend. Men. All the bodies are male. Checking each body more closely to verify my suspicion, leads my eye to the Humvee. The rear door is open.

  Someone is stealing our ride! What happened to Tucker?

  Looking to the turret, I can see Tucker searching frantically. He looks up the street and then down the street. His eyes aim directly at me and then up the street again. It’s a search.

  “Todd!” Jaden yells out from the middle of the square.

  No wonder Tucker is panicking. Jaden snuck out and he can’t find him.

  Todd hurries out to meet his little buddy. On the way, he has to leap over dead bodies and tip-toe through pools of blood.

  “The car smells funny and I was scared,” Jaden yells again before Todd can get to him.

  When they meet, Todd scoops the little man up in his arms and pulls him in tight. They are in between the bell and the Humvee, but Todd does not hesitate. He turns and runs back toward me, on a trajectory to meet right in front of the bell.

  The walkway around the Liberty Bell is littered with shattered glass and a smattering of trash. It looks as if a battle was waged on this very ground. There is a real possibility that a horde of zombies arrived to interrupt the rally and bring death down on the survivors. I guess the place wasn’t as secure as they thought.

  I scold Jaden as Todd approaches with the boy in his arms. “I told you to stay in the Humvee with Tucker and Terri. They are going to be worried sick!”

  Support from Patrick would be great but he and Cupcake are inside the building, searching for survivors.

  “It’s okay,” Todd says cheerfully. “We’re going to do this part of the adventure together. Jaden, tell Laney you’re sorry and you’ll do better listening next time.”

  Todd spins so Jaden is facing me.

  A fine red mist sprays across my face, the Liberty Bell rings out, and then the sound of a gunshot arrives.

  I have precious little boy brains all over my face and I can feel bits of bone and skin in my mouth.

  Before the bell stops reverberating, Todd is pushing me back into the structure surrounding it. From the direction of the Humvee, I hear the eruption of gunfire. Tucker did not hesitate to respond.

  I collide with Patrick’s chest but I have no concept of direction. My head is spinning and I am falling. All I see is red and I cannot distinguish the sky from the ground.

  “No! The other way! Back to the Humvee!” Patrick screams and pushes me forward.

  I don’t understand guns. It sounds like there are a hundred erupting from all over the square. Where did they all come from, or is it just one gun echoing of the walls of the buildings?

  As we sprint across the green of the square, I stumble more than once. Patrick catches me each time and helps me to my feet. Todd is out in front, still carrying Jaden’s lifeless body. He leaps over rotting flesh, determined to get his charge to safety, not knowing or not believing the boy is already dead.

  Near the Humvee, a door in the hotel building opens wide and reveals a man standing inside. He’s waving us to come in and Todd passes the Humvee while the man bends over and wedges something between the door and frame.

  I can’t think, but I know we shouldn’t stay here.

  At the Humvee, Tucker pauses his firing and screams down at us. “Get to the hotel! We need to change ammo soon!”

  Parker

  Chapter 7

  The vehicle is definitely military, but then again these people are not. None of them are wearing a uniform and their weapons are less organized than the earlier men. In fact, I think one of them is carrying a hockey stick.

  I can’t figure out their movements or strategy. Driving around the block once seemed smart. Parking and walking backwards down the street was a less intelligent effort.

  Their complete disregard for the body lying in the street was unexpected. Based on the earlier shootings, one dead man would not have warranted a trip from the killers. There were no women to kidnap and they must have determined he was alone before shooting.

  A lone body lying in the street should have surprised a new group of people not familiar with the murder-kidnap cycle. It could be that they understand this zombie situation more than I do and they were justified in leaving the corpse.

  When the boy appeared in the square, I knew things were going to get bad fast. I have to assume he was in the Humvee, because I saw no one on the street when Damon ran out.

  This sensation is something I’ve never experienced before. Everything in view was moving in slow motion. I knew what was going to happen before it occurred. Still, I was paralyzed. Could I have called out and helped them before the shot rang out?

  From my vantage point the red mist, bell ring and gunshot were simultaneous. Is it fair that I hoped it was the man and not the child? There may not be honor among thieves, but even during the zombie apocalypse, are there people who could intentionally kill a kid?

  Being near the hotel does not assure my safety. The shooters appear to have lines of sight over a wide area of the square. Stepping out from behind the door could make me the next target.

  Susan speaks to me again. “Help them.”

  Maybe my fight isn’t for justice. Maybe my fight is for survival.

  There needs to be a distraction. If the shooters have more to deal with, the runners will have a better chance. The gunfire from the Humvee has paused; maybe he has a problem or ran out of bullets.

  Next to nothing is at my disposal. Damon had a knife. I could have used that to reflect the light into the shooter’s eyes, but I don’t even have a watch to try that tactic out with.

  If I leave the window by the door, I won’t see what happens to the runners. That may be a good thing, but it feels like I’m giving up on them. Standing here watching in fear is not helping, though.

  In the stairwell under the last flight of stairs is a sign with two cinder blocks. The sign reads “Hotel Monaco Main Entrance” with an arrow underneath. My guess is they place it down on the corn
er to direct traffic from the side street when business is slow.

  With the horde of zombies milling about in the lobby, I suspect most people would prefer to avoid the main entrance. If only there was a way to get the shooters to take care of the zombies.

  There is.

  I grab one of the cinder blocks and the sign. My plan is insane, but it’s probably the only chance I have at succeeding.

  The door is open wide and I wave wildly. Screaming at the top of my lungs only adds to the cacophony; there is no way they can hear me over the gunfire. I achieve eye contact with the man in front, the one who is carrying the lifeless body of the child.

  When I am confident that they are coming toward me, I place the sign between the door and the jamb and heft the cinder block out to the sidewalk. Satisfied that the door will be open when I return, I take off down the sidewalk toward the hotel entrance.

  I choose a large window and stop. Banging on the glass gains the attention of the zombies inside. After a few seconds of nothing, the horde becomes organized and heads toward the window. I step back to the street and swing the heavy block in my right hand.

  As soon as I let go, I start to run. The sudden movement saves my life. A bullet whistles past my back and digs into the pavement behind me.

  The cinder block bounces off the plate glass and falls uselessly to the ground.

  Shit.

  Even though there are people shooting at me, I’m committed. I have to see this through.

  I go back to the cinder block and lift it again. Careful not to step back all the way to the street, I swing the block once more. This time I don’t let go. My hand carries the block to the surface of the window and through the glass.

  The window shatters and falls down around my arm like rain. Now it’s time to run.

  Glancing back over my shoulder reveals that the zombies are faster than I expected. There are at least ten of them out on the street now and more pushing through the open window.

  Up in front of me, a young woman is just getting to my door. The man directly behind her is close enough to touch her, but there is another man just passing the Humvee.