Empire

by David Dunwoody

  Voorhees fell upon Sawbones and locked his arms around the rotter's neck. SNAP-SNAP-SNAP-SNAP went vertebrae and still it clawed at the cop's eyes.

  Jenna jumped down. She saw Duncan lying in a red-and-brown paste. "Mark!!"

  "KILL IT." Duncan groaned through white lips.

  She ran at Sawbones. "Move, Voorhees!"

  He released the rotter and rolled through the mud.

  Sawbones stared up at Jenna, at the widowmaker, followed the gleaming steel through the rain and into his throat.

  She straddled him and hacked away at his face, driving the blade all the way into the ground, again and again, blending the pulverized remains of Sawbones' real skull with the earth under him.

  Voorhees ripped a sleeve from his shirt and tied a crude tourniquet around Duncan's leg. "She's still..." Duncan pointed at Jenna's frantic chopping. She was chopping nothing. Voorhees laid Duncan back. "Don't talk."

  "I could hear you from a block away!" Someone shouted over the edge: Mike. Then the scope of the carnage below hit him, and he fell silent.

  "Wound's not that deep." Voorhees said to Duncan. He heard a slapping sound and turned. Sawbones' head was gone. Jenna was attacking a slick of gore.

  She fell into the mud and screamed.

  A moment later, Shipley's voice rose even above hers.

  "Where's the kid?

  WHERE'S KIPP?!"

  Had any of the survivors scaled the skeleton building and stood at its peak, they would have seen the boy stumbling out of the construction site, heading west toward the Jefferson Harbor Museum.

  Turning east, they might have also seen a cloud on the horizon, not in the sky, but on the ground.

  Feral undead converging on the pillars of smoke that rose from the city.

  31.

  Daddy

  Mike pulled Shipley away from the others. "Cut the hysterics!"

  "He's my SON." Shipley gasped. "They took him when I went to prison. They took him but I kept track of him, I knew where he was, I came here for him, don't you fucking get it?? WHERE IS HE?!"

  "Jesus. All right." Mike glanced at the dead guy a few yards away, a local dealer he'd seen in Voorhees' files. The Desert Eagle still lay in his hand.

  Retrieving the gun and checking its magazine to find it full, he trotted to the edge of the basement. Voorhees was standing between an unconscious Duncan and a weeping Jenna. He himself seemed to be in shock.

  Mike gestured for him to approach and lowered his voice. "I think Shipley and I should go look for the boy."

  "What?" Voorhees turned the words over and over in his head, but could make no sense of them. He was still seeing blood, pools and geysers and clouds of blood. The rain on his head felt like blood and he swatted angrily at it.

  "I'm going to take Shipley to look for the boy." Mike repeated.

  "No, no. We all need to stay here. That kid's a goner."

  "I know..." Mike leaned into the hole, whispering "...Cheryl ID'd him. It's HIM."

  He showed Voorhees the Eagle, and the man understood.

  "Don't do anything stupid." Voorhees mumbled. "Don't waste any bullets. One shot."

  Mike nodded and lifted his head out of the basement.

  "W-what happened?" Cheryl stammered. She was still standing away from the others, an outsider, not sure if she wanted in.

  "It's all right now." Palmer took her hand and led her beneath the scaffolding. Mike gave her a smile as he tucked the Eagle into his waistband. "I'll be back in a little while."

  "We'll be okay." Voorhees called to the group as he climbed up. "That rotter was alone. We'll just wait for Mike - and Shipley - and Kipp - then we'll get the hell out of here."

  Mike led Shipley over a mound of debris. Voorhees patted Cheryl's shoulder. "It's all going to be okay now."

  She nodded absently. "I mean," he said, "Shipley won't be coming back."

  "Huh?"

  "Mike told me. We've been hunting for this bastard for more than a month." Still getting a questioning look from her, Voorhees sighed and said as softly as possible, "Mike told me Shipley's the one who raped you."

  Cheryl's frown melted away into a horrified, gaping stare.

  "I...I never told Mike that...I never even told him I was raped..."

  Mike tossed Voorhees' gun to Shipley as they walked down a slope. "Here. I've got the Eagle."

  "This one ain't even loaded," scowled Shipley. "You really think I didn't know?"

  "You're a smart guy." Mike smiled at him. There was something wrong about it. The Eagle, turning playfully in his hand, came to rest aimed at Shipley's chest.

  "What is this? What are you doing?"

  "You know I could kill you right now. I could. Shoot you where you stand and leave you for the rotters."

  "Whoa, whoa." Holding his hands out placatingly, Shipley dropped his gruff tone. Only way to deal with cops when they started losing it. You fought back, you got swatted down and maybe never got back up; he'd seen it a dozen times in lockup. You rolled into a ball and started begging, they kicked you while you were down. Shipley steadied his tremulous voice and spoke. "I'm not this guy you've been looking for. I'm not a bad guy. I know I've fucked up before but I've never, ever hurt anyone like that. I came here to get my son out of this hellhole and head north. I know where the troops are headed, I know where the cities are. You could come with us! We'd all be safer. But what's important to me - the only thing - is that Kipp's safe. That's all."

  "You were serious about that?" Mike laughed, the pistol never wavering. "He's your kid? I'm starting to see the resemblance." As he wielded his power over the other man, Mike seemed to be lost in the moment; but rushing him would break the trance and end in death, Shipley knew.

  "How're you going to explain to that retard where you've been? What Daddy did? Sorry son, Daddy liked little girls, not little boys."

  "I'll explain as best I can."

  "You won't explain shit - you won't tell him A THING, and you know it. He's better off out there with THEM."

  Shipley looked around in desperation. Kipp could be blocks away. He could be in the hands of an undead, another clown...

  "Just let me go. I'll go myself. We won't come back, we'll leave you alone. How about that? Just let me go, Officer?"

  "Ohhhh. 'Officer'. You can go then. I'm sorry." Mike sneered and leveled the pistol with Shipley's head. "Don't condescend to me, cocksucker. EVER."

  "Okay, okay."

  "Turn around, Shipley."

  Knives of ice drove deep into Shipley's veins.

  "Offi - Mike..."

  "Turn. Around."

  Shipley's eyes studied the ground. There had to be a rock, a pipe...he could run, just run. NOW!! No, the cop wouldn't miss. The falling rain drummed maddeningly on his head.

  "I want to tell you," Mike called genially, "one thing before we do this."

  "Tell us both."

  Not Mike's voice.

  Voorhees kept his distance from the other P.O. He let his presence sink in before saying another word.

  "What are you doing here? I've got this." Mike growled.

  "She got pregnant, Mike. With your baby. She miscarried."

  In a half-second the entire scene shifted. Weisman was exposed, he had no way out, no excuses, no lies. He kept the gun trained on Shipley and looked at his partner. "Cheryl."

  "Yes." Voorhees scratched his stubble. His stomach mewled. Mike lowered the gun slightly, just slightly, the barrel still pointing at Shipley, who stood stock-still.

  "How did I miss it?" Sighed Voorhees. "You could hardly wait to start once you'd arrived in town." Then, angrily, "You interviewed each of those victims. You comforted them, held them, sent them north 'for their own safety' with their boyfriends or sisters or, if they had nobody left, nobody. Why'd you really pressure them to leave the Harbor? Did you think something might click, that they'd hear the perp's voice in their heads and realize it was yours?"

  "They always do," Mike answered, "eventually. I wish I could be there
when it happened...but I wanted to stay here. I mean, I like it here. Just the two of us working the case, the only cops in town, the only ones they had. And then this guy--"

  Mike pulled the trigger. Shipley flew back. The gun was pointed at Voorhees before he could draw a breath.

  "With him I could stay even longer. There wasn't any need to convince you, was there? You liked him for it the second you saw him!"

  Shipley twitched in the mud. He'd taken a gut shot. It was a wonder he wasn't screaming. Voorhees glanced over and saw that the man's eyes were locked on the two cops.

  "I think I know how this is going to work." Mike murmured. "That first shot was Shipley. He popped you with your gun, the one I gave him. The second shot is me killing him."

  "Is this what you wanted all along?" Voorhees asked. The widowmaker's sheath on his back was unclasped; he faked shivers and tried to drop the blade into his hand. "You wanted to take control of the group? Have those women relying completely on you?"

  "Well, I didn't plan it out like this, but it works."

  "Sure it does. You'd need to get rid of me, of course, wouldn't you Mike. Because I'm stronger than you, because they listen to me even if they don't like me. That's real power, isn't it?"

  "Oh, FUCK YOU." Mike spat. "They'd turn on you just like that. I could turn them--"

  "We'll never know, will we? You're gonna kill me and go back there with some bullshit story that makes you look like a hero. Bullshit, bullshit--"

  "SHUT UP!!"

  "Bullshit, Mike. You're full of it. Cheryl knows you raped her. What're you going to do about that? How're you gonna walk away from that a hero? Think fast, Mike!"

  Voorhees hurled the widowmaker. It glanced off Mike's knuckles and he dropped the gun with a howl. Just as quickly, his other hand dropped to scoop it up.

  Voorhees delivered a knee into Mike's forehead with a CRACK. Weisman went sprawling and Voorhees grabbed the Eagle. His knee gave out from under him and he rolled toward Shipley.

  Mike got up, screaming, and found the widowmaker. There was a thunderclap, and he spun wildly through the air before landing facedown.

  Shipley could barely hold the gun. He dropped it in his lap.

  Voorhees cradled his kneecap and fumbled through his pockets for a handkerchief. "Hold tight Shipley."

  "No." Wheezing, the man rolled over and struggled to a standing position. "What are you doing?" Voorhees demanded.

  Slipping the Eagle into his jeans, Shipley pointed west. "I'm gonna get my boy. Then we're gone."

  He staggered off. Voorhees fought to get back on his feet. "I'm sorry!"

  Shipley gave him half a glance and a dismissive wave.

  Jenna came over the hill where Mike's body lay. She took the widowmaker from him and, searching her surroundings for any sign of the undead, descended toward Voorhees.

  Shipley left the construction site. He crossed the street and headed up the steps of a museum with its doors hanging open. About halfway up, he stopped to catch his breath, to stem the pain radiating through his entire body, and he saw Kipp come out.

  The boy's gaze, which once had bespoke nothing but love, was now only hungry.

  He shuffled down the steps with arms open to receive his father.

  32.

  Empty Places

  Down a set of stairs at the rear of the police station, through a locked door and into a dark tunnel beneath the three-story structure, Voorhees led the others to the PD's only unbarricaded entrance. The door had a new lock and four bolts, for which he had all the keys.

  The others were silent. They'd heard the gunshots, heard Jenna and Voorhees' accounts of Mike Weisman's death and what had preceded it. Shipley and Kipp were gone. Cheryl was in shock, and Palmer drew her coat around the girl and held her close.

  The only light in the lobby came not from the many doors and windows, which had been covered with every available board, desk and shelf; but from a shattered skylight overhead. Rain pooled on the floor and Voorhees led them carefully around the water. "Up those stairs." He tossed his keys to Lauren. Jenna was supporting Duncan, but Lauren turned and handed the keys to her anyway.

  "It's the first hallway, first door on the right. My name's on it." Voorhees walked to the barricades and reached between two overturned desks, pulling out a pump shotgun. "There's a first-aid kit up there too, in my desk. Clean Duncan's wound."

  "How?" Jenna asked from the bottom of the steps. Voorhees sighed. "Hold on."

  Leading them upstairs, he unlocked a room marked HOMICIDE - EVIDENCE and went inside. A second later, he appeared with two jugs of distilled water. "One of these is for drinking. Conserve it." He handed that to Palmer. "Use the other one to clean his leg. I'm gonna have to stitch it up."

  "Whoa, whoa." Duncan swayed in Jenna's arms. "Let's just dress the leg and call it a day."

  "It needs to be closed up."

  "Just bandage it. I don't want stitches."

  Voorhees reached back into the darkness of the evidence room. He pulled out a dusty plastic bag with pills in it, some crushed. "You'll forget all about the pain. Deal?"

  Duncan shrugged helplessly. Voorhees stuffed the bag in his pocket and locked the room up. He brought everyone into his office: chair, overturned buckets stacked with files, a water jug and a can which purported to hold coffee beans. Sure enough, it did. Voorhees popped one into his mouth and gestured to the open can. "Eat up."

  Cheryl stared blankly at the can. "Sorry, fresh out of roast duck." Voorhees grumbled. "Leave her be." Palmer said sternly.

  Duncan was rested on the floor, back propped against the wall. Voorhees handed him a few pills. "What are those?" Jenna asked. "You don't recognize these babies?" Voorhees answered. "I thought you kept bowls of them backstage." Before she could retort, he said to the others, "The squeamish need to wait outside. Don't leave this floor, don't mess with locked rooms. Okay?"

  Palmer took Cheryl out of the room. Lauren looked from Jenna to the door. "I'm staying, Laurie." Jenna said quietly. "Just hang out in the hall. Okay?"

  Lauren nodded glumly and left. The door clicked in her wake, and the room was silent.

  Duncan took the pills with a mouthful of water and closed his eyes. "How long?"

  "Ten minutes and you'll be under. You'll feel like it, anyway." Voorhees fished the first-aid kit out from under his files and, removing the tourniquet from Duncan's leg, pressed a wad of gauze against the wound. "O'Connell, there's a little bag under the chair. See it? Needle and thread are inside."

  Jenna opened the bag. "Are you kidding?"

  "What?"

  "These are for mending socks."

  "You got another idea? Kiss it better maybe? We need to close this gash up before it gets infected."

  Infected...what a choice of words. Jenna threw the bag to Voorhees.

  Duncan's breathing had relaxed, and he looked like he might be unconscious. Jenna sat in the chair and watched Voorhees thread his needle. "I don't know what kind of person you think I am, but I was never a drug-addicted slut."

  "Every professional musician since the plague has been a drug-addicted slut." The cop replied flatly. "It's their escape from the world."

  "So what's yours? Playing policeman in a ghost town?"

  He didn't say anything for a few minutes. Duncan moaned slightly, then his head fell onto his chest.

  "I stayed here to help the residents who refused to leave. It's their right to stay and it's their right to be protected."

  "Did you ever ask yourself why I came out here?" Jenna felt something rising in her throat, a sob maybe; she choked it down and went on. "Why would I come to a coastal city under martial law if I was just a party girl? I thought maybe...I don't know, I thought I could make people smile a little. There's nothing wrong with forgetting about the hell we live in for just one day. If all we're doing anymore is surviving, what's the fucking point?"

  Voorhees removed the gauze from Duncan's wound and shifted to sit beside the unconscious man. "You've got me there."


  In the hallway, Cheryl and Lauren stood quiet while Palmer rummaged through another office. She came out with a pair of gloves. "Anyone cold?"

  The girls shook their heads. Palmer went to put the gloves on, and a crumpled cigarette pack fell from the left one.

  She knelt and picked it up. There were smokes inside.

  "Mother of God." Cheryl whispered.