by Bryan James
A bloody handprint on the back of the van.
Bizarre.
Someone who survived that kind of wreck shouldn’t have been able to walk. They would have been lucky to continue breathing.
“I see a plume of smoke in the distance, and I am sitting in traffic. About par for the course for Long Island, Kara. Listen, I’m sure it’s another Bird Flu scare or something. Don’t worry about it. I’m sure it’s being handled.”
“You mean like Katrina was handled? Or 9/11? Or …”
“Come on, don’t you have anything better to do than worry about the world ending?”
The traffic was moving in earnest now and Kate released an easy breath and relaxed slightly. She might make her group session after all.
“No. I’m a mom. All I think about is the world ending and how I can keep my kids safe.” She paused for a second as Kate rolled her eyes. “Shit, sorry Kate. I didn’t mean …”
“I know, I know. It’s fine. I talked to her this morning and it’s only two more months.” She took a breath.
“I can make it that long. I’ve been staying busy at work, and I can focus on having her again for six full months very soon. That’s the upside of this custody agreement—when I have her, it’s for real.” In her rearview mirror, she caught another set of emergency lights and moved to the right lane.
“Listen Kara, I’ve gotta go. Love to the kids and send you a text when I leave here on Friday, okay? Turn the television off for a while…read a book or something.” Kate smiled as she heard the cacophony of children in the background—chaos of the first order indeed.
“Fuck you, Kate,” her sister said affectionately. Then, “I’ll see you soon, hon.”
Chuckling, Kate ended the call and flipped through the radio stations until she found NPR, hoping for some news. But her drive was only five more minutes and they were in the middle of a pledge drive.
By the time she pulled into her parking spot, the producers had only managed to rake in seven dollars, and she barely had time to drop her things in her office before making her way to the nurse’s station.
“Thought you weren’t gonna make it,” said Rhonda, the large charge nurse sitting behind the counter. “Was gonna call in a backup.”
Her wide face betrayed her amusement as she handed Kate the clipboard with the roster of patients on it. Kate took it in a whirl of white coat and put the clipboard between her teeth and she tied up her long brown hair and winked at Rhonda.
She dropped the clipboard in her hand and scanned the list.
“I like to make an entrance,” she said, nodding as she read the names of the participants. “Who’s with me today?”
Rhonda looked at her computer screen and listed off two names, orderlies that Kate had never met before.
“Where’s Greg? Cecil?”
“They called in today. Sick I guess. Got these guys from Ward C on a last minute basis. Guess this stuff on the radio is something to pay attention to.”
Kate frowned.
“This is the second time I’ve heard talk about some gang violence or something—anything I need to worry about?”
Rhonda shrugged.
“I don’t know. Depends on whether you believe cable news folk. They’ve been talking up a storm about a few incidents. Mostly just people bein’ people, attacking each other. Different cities, including New York. Someone got a cell phone video of some guy biting some other guy. Probably drunk or on acid or bath salts or something. But nothing local yet. Not that I’ve heard.”
She looked at her watch pointedly. “Aren’t you supposed to be …?”
Kate cursed softly and pushed away from the nurse’s station, moving to the courtyard. “Yep, got it. Thanks!”
On warm days, they took the patients into the quad. Research had proven—some of it Kate’s—that sunlight had a very curative effect on some mental illnesses. She tried to work through group issues outside whenever possible, and several of the patients on this list had made amazing progress in a short time. She took a deep breath as she walked onto the green grass opposite the main entrance and took in the circle of eight chairs, already filled with her usual crowd. Two orderlies lounged nearby, watching the patients carefully.
Kate pushed the thoughts of her daughter into the back of her mind, focusing on the short two months until they would see one another. It was a beautiful day, and she could make this work. She just had to push through the tough spots.
Forcing a smile on her face that she didn’t quite feel, she took her chair at the head of the group and began.
In the distance behind her, several figures staggered slowly through the open gates of the large facility, eyes wide and staring. Sirens blared in increasing frequency in the city beyond.
“Good morning, everyone. How are we feeling today?”
***
I yawned loudly and covered my mouth before inhaling too much dust and dirt from the rancid air of the nudie bar as I stared out the narrow peephole.
The one inch gap between the broken door and the slanted frame afforded enough space to peer into the ashen daylight outside. The truck blocked most of the view, but I could tell that the herd had moved on.
We had been careful to be quiet as we slipped inside, and as they had come into view, we were already disappearing into the bar. They must have passed by, continuing on toward the road we had just come from, pressing forward for food, or some other unknown and unknowable purpose.
Like a faint dusting of new fallen snow, the ash was beginning to accumulate in a discernible layer over the broken pieces of the world outside. It obscured visibility, and created a fog of powdery uncertainty which would help us move during the reduced light. It would be helpful to have the visibility when we hit the river. No matter what we faced there, it wouldn’t be easy, I was sure of it.
Ky was sleeping when I returned, and Kate had already found a place next to the young girl, a single hand on her shoulder, the lazy form of Romeo on the other side. He looked up once when I entered, sniffed, and went back to sleep.
Kate twitched and muttered in her uneasy sleep, and I frowned in concern, watching her with worry until slumber grabbed my hand and led me away.
I was uneasy, and sleep was long in coming. When it came, the dreams pushed me into a fitful slumber. I woke several times, trying to shake it off. But my rest was brief, and unfulfilling.
The sun was still weak through the vent in the ceiling when I woke, and I ate a small meal quietly, staring aimlessly at the wall. I glanced at the others, seeing the rise and fall of chests in a deep sleep. The events of the day before were still shaking my confidence, and after the last few months, I didn’t need to dwell on the things that could keep us away from our goal. Like the potential for a destroyed Vancouver, or the lack of roads or other semblances of normalcy as we moved north.
No, I needed to look ahead. And I needed to somehow convince myself that what we were doing—our mission and our goal—were realistic.
Kate was the first to stir, and she awakened to my zoned-out stare. She smiled uneasily.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asked warily, rubbing her eyes and checking her watch.
“Just waiting for you guys to wake up,” I said in a quiet voice, grunting as I pushed myself into a standing position. “I’ve been up for a while. Can’t sleep.”
She untangled herself from the pile of bodies and Romeo whimpered once as she pushed his paw off her chest and stood.
“He’s getting a little full of himself,” she said, glancing at the dog who had now draped himself over Ky.
“Entitlement complex. We should make him run behind the truck for a few miles,” I joked, giving her a hug and taking in the remarkable smell of her hair. Despite the apocalypse, it was still amazing.
“He’d probably like that,” she whispered.
“Sleep okay?” I asked.
She shrugged and made a face.
“Just a recurring dream. Memories, more like. Of Liz and … of before.”
She yawned widely and I nodded. My face must have betrayed my discomfort and she furrowed her brow.
“How about you?”
I shrugged and kissed her lightly on the cheek, knowing that my fitful sleep was no match for her memories of her daughter.
“Get something to eat,” I stepped back. “I’ll check the street again before she wakes up. I think we need to get moving. That herd made me nervous for some reason. And I don’t know what to make of that body we found. I would feel better if this whole area were behind us.”
The soft rolling peal of what sounded like thunder—but which we knew was the belching volcano to the south—made a strong point in my favor.
“Agreed. What do you think it is? People moved out early? Headed to the city? Maybe that body was just a fight. Or maybe he killed himself.”
I shook my head, still whispering softly as Ky stirred.
“No, he was holding a .357 and the bullet holes were too small. Someone killed him. Maybe it was just an argument, but until the tidal wave and earthquake, we hadn’t seen many humans or zombies—that means either that we’ve been in the right place at the right time consistently—“
“—Which of course isn’t our style.”
“—Or something else is going on. Either way, I think we should keep moving.”
She nodded again, face serious. Her gaze drifted to the doorway and she rubbed her eyes again, this time not in weariness, but in emotion.
“Mike, is this … Are we wasting our time? Is it possible that she’s alive? With the virus, and now the earthquake and tsunami, and …It seems impossible. I just can’t shake this feeling that …”
“We’re alive, aren’t we?” I asked softly, interrupting the stream of consciousness.
“Yes, but that’s different.”
I shook my head emphatically.
“No. No, it’s no different at all. In the beginning, when we met each other in that hallway, we were facing some tall odds. We had no weapons, no clue, and no destination. We were flailing helplessly, but somehow we made it. A crazy person, a kid,” I paused with a smile, “and me.”
The tears escaped her eyes as she shook her head and wiped her cheeks, all while laughing despite herself.
“I know, but she’s just a little girl. She’s …” Her voice caught again in her throat. “She turned eleven today.”
I took her in my arms again, wanting to tell her that we’d find her. That she would celebrate another birthday. That she had doubtlessly survived for this one.
But the platitudes echoed of false hope, even in my head.
Kate was right. It did seem impossible.
***
“You’re just wrong. Admit it. We’d all be better off.”
The dust swirled in the large room as we hoisted our packs onto the long, filthy bar to do a final check of our pack-outs before leaving.
“You know what? You think you know everything, but you don’t! What you’re saying doesn’t. Make. Sense.”
Her voice was high, and shrill, and she was upset.
I sighed.
“I’m going to explain for your tiny little bird brain one last time, and then we’re done, understand? The suit came from Krypton. It was imbued with the same extraterrestrial power that Superman had. The bullets never made holes in the suit because they couldn’t make holes in Superman.”
Behind me, Kate shook her head and snorted once.
Very ladylike. I looked at her and she put her hands up, as if trying to stay neutral.
Nice try, but your position has been revealed.
“So what you’re saying is that the fabric was alive, just like Superman. That it adapted to the yellow sun of Earth, and that his underwear became super underwear. That the fabric was just like him—some sort of adaptable alien. Is that what you’re saying?”
“I’m saying that it was from Krypton and they made their shit for real.”
“Okay, how about this—why doesn’t he have a huge beard and really long nails?”
“What?”
“Same inconsistencies,” she said cockily, pulling her pack off the bar and shrugging into the straps.
“Why doesn’t he have long hair and nails? If he’s invincible, how does he cut them? Can’t use clippers or scissors or get a haircut, right?”
“He’s Superman, he can zap ‘em with his eye lasers.”
“What about Zod?”
I sighed. “You’re rolling too fast—what does Zod have to do with this?”
“He’s the same as Superman, right? Strong, fast, all that?”
“Yes, so …”
“When they fight, Zod can’t damage Superman, can he? I mean they both just pummel each other. It takes Kryptonite to kill one of them. But more importantly, when Zod zaps Superman with his eye lasers, they don’t cut him or his suit or his hair. And Superman can’t damage himself any more than Zod can damage him, right? Same powers, same invincibility.”
“I don’t…” Something told me she was on to something. I hate it when this happens.
Just like the squirrel all over again.
“Which means…” she went on, clearly enjoying herself.
Kate charged her M-4 discreetly near the door, and I could hear her smile as the kid continued to school me.
“…That Superman couldn’t possibly have the ability to cut his own hair or nails. If he is utterly invincible, that includes his normal bodily functions—he is physically incapable of self-grooming.”
“So your take is that he should be naked, hairy and long-nailed?”
She smiled broadly.
“Ideally.”
“Gross.”
“Yes, but consistent.” She raised a single finger and winked at me, cocky and sure of herself. “That’s the key.”
I glanced at Kate as I clipped my rifle to my chest rig and shrugged into my heavy pack. It was a short trip to the truck, but you had to be ready to run.
“I don’t like your take on Superman,” I muttered, passing them and moving to the door, past the crude posters and crumbling wall paper advertising half-off drinks on Tuesdays.
“Not my fault. I call ‘em as I see ‘em,” she said.
The street was clear as I peered into the haze; I checked my watch briefly to assess the daylight remaining. Three in the afternoon. Enough time to get across the river in daylight and move past the area before night fell. Once we had the cover of darkness, we could try to press north through several towns, hopefully allowing the darkness to shroud our more obvious movements through areas with the potential for more threats.
“Okay, Supergirl. You ready? Get into the back seat with your mutt. Kate, watch to the right, near the intersection. That’s where they were yesterday. All set?”
Two heads nodded and Romeo simply stared at me, a thin line of drool making its way to the filthy floor. I took that for a yes.
The door creaked softly as it opened, but I was already into the street, squinting against the light, but feeling no pain on the small pieces of exposed skin, as the sun was filtered through billions of pieces of ash and dirt that had been spewed into the air. I motioned for the rest, and Ky squeezed past and opened the back door of the waiting truck.
In the mist of ash ahead, I thought I caught movement, and as I jogged toward the driver’s side door, I cursed.
“Kate, twelve o’clock,” my voice was tight. Where the hell had he come from?
A single creature stood swaying at the street corner, its head moving toward us as we made for the truck. Tattered remains of clothing hung from desiccated arms, its face withered and bloody. Eyes, both milky and bloodshot, locked onto my face as I stared.
Then, seemingly with purpose, he moaned, his head tilting behind him, as if to direct the sound.
This was not a hungry, vapid sound.
No, this was loud and purposeful. As if intended to carry meaning.
And suddenly, there was movement in the ashy mist. Zombies numbering in the hundreds, emerging from the ash of th
e intersection, wandering out of alleyways and storefronts, and meandering generally through the vacant space under the slowing swaying stoplight.
Their bodies were covered in a slush of ash and dirt, the mud mixing with the effluent of their rot and decay. They came from the river, and poured from the surrounding buildings. Surging forward in a slush of disturbed water and mud.
They hadn’t been there a moment before. It was as if they had been waiting and inert, and as if he had called them to attack.
But that wasn’t possible.
“Ready,” Kate said, closing her door behind her and keeping her eyes moving. Ky was staring out of the back window toward the cloudy ash behind us.
I backed up until I could grab the door handle, noticing again the severe beating that the truck had taken at the hands of the earthquake yesterday. In the light of day—and under the threat of a small herd—it looked like a doomed machine.
The moans were starting to filter through the gray air, and I shook my head again as I sat down heavily. Kate spoke first.
“What the hell? Where did they come from?”
The engine thankfully turned over. They sped up as they heard the noise, moving en masse toward us. I could make out the ruined faces of the leading ranks, and I squirmed uncomfortably despite myself. Experience didn’t make it easier. These were hellish ghouls who had no place on earth.
“I don’t know,” I muttered, looking back over my shoulder as I threw the truck into reverse, tires squealing as I jammed the wheel hard to the left, bringing us around to face away from the herd.
“It’s almost like they were waiting for us,” I said, checking the rear view mirror as the leading edge of creatures stumbled forward, twenty meters or so from the bed. “But that can’t be true. They can’t think. They can’t communicate. We know this much, at least.”
Kate spoke softly, her voice barely a whisper.
“Maybe we were wrong. Maybe they’re learning as they hunt together. It’s not too hard to believe that as time goes on, they would learn something as basic as that.”
I caught Ky’s face in the mirror, and her terror reflected my own.
It just couldn’t be true.