LZR-1143 (Book 4): Desolation

by Bryan James

  “Nice to meet you folks,” I said, nodding once.

  Greg tilted his head slightly to the side and spoke, his voice arrogant and full of pompous threat.

  “We’ll see about that,” he said.

  I suppressed the urge to laugh in his cocky little face, choosing instead to grin crookedly, and moved on, following Rhi’s lead as she gestured at the small woman huddled near Eli in the corner.

  “And finally we have Rosy, who has been taking care of Eli. She doesn’t speak much English, but she understands well enough. She lost her family a few months ago, near as we can tell—think they were all day laborers at one of the big farms up here. Found her hiding in an old barn ten miles up the road.”

  I smiled widely at the middle-aged woman with a kindly face, and she returned the gesture, arm still tight around Eli. I turned away, and I heard her continue admonishing him in rapid-fire Spanish.

  “How’s Ethan?” I asked, ignoring some of the odd glares from the group and looking to where he lay on the floor behind a row of monitors. “‘Cause he looks like crap,” I threw in, knowing he was listening.

  “You shut your pie hole, you yuppy bastard. If you hadn’t screwed up yer piece, I wouldn’t be layin’ here like a gutted fish.”

  “You’re full of horse shit, Ethan. We got flat out ambushed by those things and it wouldn’t have made a cow’s lick of difference if Mike was on target or not. His screw-up had nothing to do with your poor-ass shooting.”

  Ethan struggled into a seated position, ignoring the pain in his left leg where the bandages indicated he had been hit.

  “Okay, you old shrew. Take his side. All I know is that he was late, and his plan don’t seem to have worked. What the hell was that sound we heard, anyway?”

  Ah. So.

  Guess I had to be the bearer of the bad …

  “Tunnel’s gone. No exit that way. He blew it up,” said Eli quickly, thumb pointing at me. “But there was no choice,” he continued evenly, as the looks of horror began to spread on the faces of the crowd. “Those things were inside, and there were a lot of them. Everywhere. And more were coming.”

  The silence was awkward as I tried to find a spot on the wall to stare at.

  There.

  A nice little crack to see. Hello little crack. Is that water? Are you leaking?

  Oh, right.

  Hello claustrophobia, my old friend…

  Maybe I’ll look at something else …

  “So what you’re saying,” said Rhi, slowly, “is that we’re trapped in here? They can’t get in, but we can’t get out? I thought we briefed you on the fucking plan, man. We’re here to clear a way out of this place. Not shut us in.” Rhi’s voice was frustrated. She had a right. I showed up late. My plan was for shit. And now we were back to where they had started.

  But for one change. Now they had me.

  “Oh fucking wonderful,” said Greg, his tone rising an octave, and his face wearing a sneer. He looked around the group, then to me.

  “So you’re here to save us, huh? And your grand plan was to trap us in here to starve to death?”

  I groaned, allowing my eye roll to be visible.

  “No, asshole. Starving isn’t on the table. If it gets bad, we’ll start with you. Although we’ll have to clean you real well before we eat, seeing how full of shit you are.”

  He narrowed his eyes and stepped forward, as if planning on starting a fight. I cocked my head to one side and grinned, curious as to where he’d go from here. Surely, Rhi had given everyone a heads up as to my special abilities.

  “Listen, this isn’t helpful,” she added in annoyance. “Greg, stop being such a twat. Mike, don’t provoke him. You effed up a little up there, right?”

  I nodded, turning back to her and ignoring the pompous ass who was still fuming next to his cowed-looking wife. She was talking to him in a low voice. He threw her hand off and got close to her face, angrily gesturing toward the door.

  Around the pair, the rest of the group was starting to mumble and move aimlessly. The news had brought a new level of despair.

  My voice was a little too loud as I spoke, but I did manage to get everyone’s attention.

  “Okay, fine. I fucked up. Yes, the passageway is out. But there has to be another way. Rhi said there were other exits, right? I saw another doorway on the roadway above the dam—isn’t that an exit? We’ve got options. And I don’t intend to die in this room. I have friends out there that need me, and I didn’t come all this way—risk losing them—just to throw in the towel. So let’s talk about options. I promise you I can get you out of here.”

  “And why should we believe you?” Greg’s voice was acid, and his face screwed into a snarl. “A washed up movie star—yeah, I know who you are—who killed his wife and somehow landed his ass in the middle of fucking nowhere? What the hell are you even doing out here, man? How did you make it this far?”

  I looked around the room and nodded, recognizing that for them to trust me, I’d have to explain. Rhi began to speak, as if to defend me, but I held up a hand.

  “Fair enough. I’ll give you the short version. Yes, I killed my wife.” A gasp escaped from Susan’s mouth, and I looked at the tall, haggard woman, whose eyes were dark with exhaustion, and whose blond hair hung long and tangled around her face. She held her hand over her mouth in horror, and I swallowed back the sadness that her reaction inspired.

  Still, after so long, I couldn’t believe it myself.

  “I killed her. In my apartment, with a golf club.” I watched as the room grew quieter. No one moved.

  “But the detail that was left out of the trial—the detail that I didn’t even remember until I could wake up out of a drug-induced stupor—was that she wasn’t my wife when I killed her. She was a zombie. Maybe one of the first that was created.”

  This time it was Jean who reacted, a rapid intake of air causing her to cough loudly. Greg guffawed and put his hands on his hips.

  “Created? What the hell are you talking about?”

  I pulled an old office chair over and sat down heavily, groaning with relief as I took the weight off my sore leg. I looked down at the dirty floor before taking a breath and continuing. In the back of the room, Tommy started to make small noises that an adult tried to shush quickly.

  “This plague was created in a lab. By the government. It’s based on a very old sample of a chemical compound from the middle east. If I gave you the whole story, you wouldn’t believe me. Suffice to say, my wife was one of the researchers. She was one of the first people infected.” I paused, then spat out the rest.

  “And I was one of the first people inoculated against it.”

  The room erupted in questions and I held up my hand, shaking my head and cutting off the inquiries.

  “Yes, I’m immune. So are my friends. And so are a large swath of our surviving armed forces right now. Maybe even people living in larger cities. I don’t know. The last time I was plugged in to the effort, the military was going to deploy an aerosolized version in high-population areas. But I doubt that Concrete, Washington qualifies, so I’m sorry. I can’t help you there.”

  “But I can help you with one thing: I’m immune, and the vaccine gives us special other abilities, not the least of which is increased strength. I’ve survived this far—cross-country from New York to DC to Seattle, and I’ve fought everything from militias to lions to zombies and survived.”

  I turned to Greg, locking eyes with him as he listened. “Yes, I’m a washed up actor. And yes, I killed the creature that used to be my wife, who I loved to distraction. I have seen hell and I have watched friends die and I have come a long, long, fucking way to be standing here in front of you. But I have survived. I don’t intend to end my winning streak in this waterlogged prison. So. That’s me. The way I see it, you have two choices. You just lay down and die here, or you let me give you a fighting chance to survive. I know which one I’d pick.”

  Silence reigned for several seconds before Eli’s vo
ice rose from the back of the room.

  “Well I don’t want to stay here. I’m going with that asshole.”

  Rosy’s voice exploded in rapid-fire Spanish as she recognized the profanity from the nine-year old’s mouth. But his comment broke the silence as several people laughed. Susan was the first to speak.

  “I will do whatever it takes to protect my baby. I think you’re the best chance. I’m with you.”

  Reggie nodded and held out his hand, which I pumped once in affirmation.

  Jean was speaking to Greg quietly, and his hands were gesturing wildly. Her tone got serious and he looked to the ceiling before throwing his hands up and walking away.

  She looked at me and nodded once.

  “Us too.”

  Rhi slapped my shoulder once and turned to me.

  “Okay, so what’s the plan?”

  “The original plan was to distract the zombies and pull everyone out of the dam from the front door. We’d make our way around the larger herds and toward a safer place. But now, that herd outside is probably discovering that the bank alarm isn’t a dinner bell, and they’re scattering again, maybe coming this way, maybe staying in town. Either way, it’s not safe to leave here without getting rid of them, right?”

  “So,” I continued, “This is my plan. I exit the building through one of the other doors, I make a play for the construction zone, grab some dynamite, and we blow the dam right after we get you all out. The water washes away our problems, we grab a boat, and we make back west. Or I do.”

  “And us,” said Rhi, gesturing to Ethan, who rolled his eyes and shook his head slowly. “We made a promise.”

  I nodded once in thanks, turning back to the group.

  Greg spoke, clearly trying to control his dislike.

  “We already told you. There’s only one thing wrong with your plan.”

  “What’s that?”

  “That passage you blew was the only safe way out on this side of the dam.”

  “It wasn’t safe when I blew it. What’s the other way out?”

  “It’s barely an option. It’s impossible. We’d be safer taking the way you came in and removing the concrete block by block.”

  “Try me.”

  He sighed.

  “It’s through the main duct facility. One floor below this room. It’s half-flooded by now, and before the walls ruptured there were at least twenty of those things down there. We locked them in and never went back. It’s a death trap. Even if you could make your way through the water, there are too many of those things and they’d be impossible to see coming. It’s dark as shit in there, and full of pipes and water.”

  I considered it briefly. I could probably take out that many. Even in the dark. And the water.

  Ugh. But it wasn’t going to be fun.

  To Greg, I nodded and projected confidence.

  “So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to go through that exit, clear it for the rest of you, then hoof it over the dam on the road to the other side. I’ll plant the charges and meet you at the exit. We’ll blow the dam, and enjoy the peace and quiet.”

  Susan raised her hand from behind the rest.

  “I don’t understand. What does blowing the dam do for us? What’s going to stop those things from getting us when we leave through the other exit?”

  I smiled, glancing at Eli and then back to the group.

  “Don’t worry. I have a plan for that.”

  ***

  “So you’re just going to open the door, walk in, and take a little jaunt through that water-logged house of horrors? The lawyers were right, man. You’re out of your mind.”

  The hallway stank of smoke and dust, and in the far distance, I imagined that I could make out the low groans of zeds still stuck under piles of rubble. I shrugged underneath my rig, settling the weight of my pack on my back and checking the magazine in my carbine one more time before exhaling and turning to Greg, who stood at the doorway to the control room, peering into the darkness with a look of fear and incredulity. Behind him, Eli watched with a blank expression on his small face, eyes unreadable amongst the remainder of the crowd of survivors.

  “First off, I won’t be walking. Second, those things don’t see well in the dark. I do. If I move quickly enough through, I might be able to get to the other side before they come for me. When I do that, I can convince them all to follow me out and kill them as they pour out the other side. Nice and easy, one at a time. Third, and most importantly, if you ever mention lawyers to me again, I’ll end you with a fist colonoscopy. Copy?”

  I stared into the smaller man’s cowardly eyes with disdain, ignoring the guffaws from several of the people behind him, including Ethan.

  He must be warming up to me.

  “What if those things are clustered around the door? What are you going to do then, smart guy?” He had stepped back, now with one hand on the half-open door.

  “Well, I guess I’ll have to come back and drag your useless ass with me for bait. Now if we’re done with stupid question time, I have a job to do.” I raised my voice and looked beyond Greg, who spluttered something briefly as I spoke.

  “Remember. Give me one hour. If you get to the room and you can see from the entrance that the far side door is still closed, I didn’t make it and you should fall back. If it’s open and light is coming in, make your way through and wait for me on the trail, where you’ll be out of sight from the main road. I’ll be back for you after I set the charges and make sure we don’t have any more friends waiting for us outside. Got it?”

  I saw heads nod in the background and Rhi pushed herself to the front, grimacing as she had to touch Greg who glared at her briefly before begrudgingly falling back.

  “You sure about this, Mike?” she asked, holding out her hand.

  I smiled, and shrugged before taking her hand briefly.

  “Sure? Of course. Nothing I’d rather be doing more.”

  She frowned, shaking her head.

  “Seriously, boy. None of that bull crap. If you tell me you can make it happen, I believe you. But don’t you go into that room thinking it ain’t nothin’—we lost a couple good people to that craphole, and if we lose you, we’re all dead. Whether it’s to hunger or another earthquake, we’re not long for this earth if you bottom out in there. So you get your shit together and soldier up, you got me?”

  “Yes ma’am,” I said reflexively. Visions of Ms. Gretchen, my fifth grade teacher, flashed through my head as my spine straightened slightly and I had an urge to stop leaning back in my chair.

  She nodded once and then offered a grin.

  “Good,” she said, backing into the doorway and pulling the heavy door closed until only her face was visible. “See you soon.”

  The sound of the door slamming in its heavy frame reverberated in the hallway as I shook my head and started forward. Looking down at my hand, I followed the instructions that I had written in Sharpie on my palm—left, then 20 meters, then right, then follow the signs for “Pump Room.” Easy enough, right?

  The water on the floor was creeping higher and it sloshed sloppily against my boots and into my already soaking socks. Making my way to the first intersection, I checked my corners well before crossing to the left.

  As I walked, I considered the patent absurdity of my situation. From looney bin to secret government facility to aircraft carrier to farmland to DC. From DC to Seattle, via a crazy ass train trip and a running gun battle with militias and zombies, and now through an earthquake and tsunami. All during a zombie apocalypse.

  And now, I trudged through the remains of a broken dam on the ass end of the furthest northwest corner of the country, trying to get to Canada. Laughing slightly to myself I scratched my face absently. If you had asked me a year ago where I would run to if the world ended, Canada would not have been on my radar.

  But then again, a year ago “zombie attack” wouldn’t have been one of the boxes I’d expect to tick for ‘cause of death’, and I’m pretty sure th
at’s how I’m going to meet my maker when the big boomstick in the sky tolls for me.

  Holding my rifle ahead and tucked into my shoulder, I followed my Sharpie directions through the dark hallways. No movement followed or preceded me—a good sign. Either all those dead heads from the entrance had been buried under the rubble, or they had wandered off and gotten lost. Either way, nothing stood in front of me as I reached the rather unassuming metal door in front of me. A long-dead potted plant stood next to the doorway, its thick pottery bowl showing signs of mold and rot—just like the rest of the disused building.

  The door looked innocent, despite what I knew lurked behind it. Bare and relatively clean, despite the ever present fungus that grew along the walls and ceiling. A rather large metal handle was jammed against its stops and I took a breath as I put my hands on it, holding the cold metal as if I could divine what was on the other side.

  But then again, I knew what was on the other side.

  Death. Hunger. Pain.

  I just had to dodge all those things and get to my happy place first. Through the dark. And the water. And the debris.

  Yep, this was definitely the sweet life, folks.

  In the distance of the winding hallways and darkness, I heard a sudden loud rumble and a brief popping noise, followed by a dull series of heavy thumps. Frowning, I turned back momentarily, watching the hall behind me. For nearly thirty seconds, I waited, listening and watching. My ears strained for the evidence of pursuit.

  Finally, in the far reaches of the hallway, I heard it. Footsteps. Fast moving footsteps.

  And a woman’s scream.

  What the hell?

  I moved forward several steps, peering into the darkness, water sloshing around my ankles. A sudden change in the air currents in the hallway pushed a slight breeze over my face as the sound of rapid footfalls turned the corner closest to me.

  Oh lovely.

  Eli and his caretaker, Rosy, were barreling forward as if pursued by Lucifer himself, arms pumping, legs splashing through the thick water. Eli’s face was excited, but showed no fear, his flaming hair flying in the dank air of the passageway.