Orpheus Born

by DeWitt, Dan

  The Merrick guy had the nerve. All you had to do was ask him.

  "I can't wait to get down there and grease some of those fuckers!"

  Mutt said, "Take it down a notch, kid. There'll be plenty of time in the future for that. This right here is a scavenge mission. In and out."

  Merrick forced himself to simmer down, although I could tell that it actually pained him to do so. "Yes, sir!"

  Sam and Fish exchanged exasperated looks.

  I pulled the new guy aside and said, "As of this moment, we have four handguns and less than a hundred rounds between us. Going in guns blazing is out of the question. If you want to take a couple of shots while we're flying away with more weapons than we can handle, you be my guest."

  "Understood."

  "You ever seen combat?"

  He looked unsure what to say.

  "There's no shame in saying no." I paused. "I really wish I could."

  "No, sir, I haven't." His mask of bravado slipped a little. He was understandably scared.

  "Then just do what I say." I tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, the dead are coming back to life, but we have the guns. HUA?"

  He smiled. "HUA."

  Mutt called over, "We're just about set, Orpheus."

  "Then let's hit the roof."

  We started trudging up the stairs. Fish said what I, and I'm pretty sure everyone else, was thinking. "Damn, it feels like I'm walking The Green Mile. Only up."

  When we got to the roof, we met with the pilot, Jameson. He was a gruff bastard, and I figured he wasn't too happy about his new job, but all I cared about was that he could get us there and back in one piece. "Let's get this over with," he said by way of introduction. I heard him mumble something about "goddamn zombies" as he headed to do his checks.

  I heard the door open behind us. I figured it was Trager, here to give us a last-minute pep talk.

  Instead, it was Lena. "Hey, guys, I just wanted to wish you good luck." She hugged each one of us in turn. She started with the new kid, and said some words of encouragement to him. Jameson fired up the helicopter. By the time she got to me, she would have had to yell to be heard. Instead, she pulled my head down so she could speak directly into my ear. I've kept those words with me ever since; every time I've felt like giving up (and there have been too many to count), they kept me moving.

  She said, "You come back, Cam. You have a lot of unfinished business."

  

  I was military for over ten years, but I’d never been in a helicopter. In fact, I hate flying. I know that may sound odd coming from someone in the Air Force, but I became a military cop partially because I knew I’d spend most of my time on the ground.

  The chopper ride was oddly refreshing, once I’d triple checked my seatbelt. We flew a few hundred feet above the dying island. I don’t know what everyone else thought or was looking at, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of the movement of the zombies below me. There were just so many of them, and they followed the sound of the helicopter. From a distance, their movements gave the illusion that the chopper was leaving a gentle wake behind it.

  Fish tried to lighten the mood. “Just like fuckin’ Saigon, eh, slick?” When no one responded, he said, “Yeah, Die Hard!” and air high-fived the group. I’d grown to really like his wiseass attitude (and occasional signs of being well-read) in a very short time. As I said before, I trusted him, and that goes a long way. He was the guy I was counting on to keep our spirits up, because I wasn't in much of a joking mood.

  I looked for signs of life (more accurately, signs of anything other than un-life) in the streets below, but I knew that was pointless exercise. Even if people were still alive … and I had to believe that they were, if only to keep my own sanity … they wouldn’t be outside. They’d be huddled in buildings, behind every locked door and makeshift barricade they could muster, in the dark, afraid to make a sound.

  Even thinking back on all I’ve been through from a personal survival standpoint, I’ve been very lucky. Others were just waiting for help to arrive, even though help had no idea where to look. In reality, those folks were just waiting to die.

  That didn’t exactly improve my mood, but it did help crystallize my resolve a bit as we approached Ruddy’s Gun and Military Surplus.

  I pulled the list out of my packet and reviewed it again. We’d decided that if it couldn’t be easily carried and loaded quickly that we weren’t going to waste time with it. That would rule out most of the highly illegal stuff that I’d bet my life savings Ruddy kept in his second floor apartment. Ruddy was a responsible gun owner and vendor, but he was also, how do I put it, fucking nuts with conspiracies. So we’d go with lighter stuff with lots of available ammo.

  Jameson tapped me on the shoulder. I turned on my headset radio.

  “Get on that roof as quickly as you can. There’s a crosswind that’s pissing me off.”

  “Got it.”

  "And hurry. It's not like we have unlimited gas for this thing, either."

  I motioned for everyone to grab the meager gear we had. For weapons, we had a handful of pistols and a few crowbars liberated from the maintenance room, and that was just about it. The idea was to change our situation drastically within the next few minutes.

  Mutt unrolled the rope ladder and swung a leg over. He waved his hand down to tell Anders to get lower. We got rocked back and forth by the wind that I’d been warned about, but it was nothing we couldn’t handle. Mutt yelled, “Roof’s clear!” and headed down.

  Everyone made it down safely, although I was the one who made it the most harrowing. The wind pulled the rung from underneath my waiting boot and I slipped. Fortunately, I had a death grip on the ladder. I was only about fifteen feet up, but I couldn’t see a scenario where I wouldn’t get hurt badly. I’m not even that old, but I really felt ancient just then.

  I touched down on the roof. The other guys were looking over the edge at the zombies. They were swarming around us, drawn by the sounds of our approach. They were scratching and clawing trying to climb up the brick face to get to us. From this height, they weren't anything resembling a threat, but in order to do our business we'd have to get down to ground level. And, due to the glaring lack of roof access, we'd have to do it on the outside.

  "Where's the door?" Fish asked. "Where's the damn door?"

  "Relax," Sam said as he uncoiled the rope. "We prepared for this. A little climbing, that's all." He tied two separate ropes off around an air conditioning unit.

  Mutt laughed. "Yeah, piece of cake."

  The Merrick kid hadn't said anything up to this point. To be fair, there probably wasn't much to say.

  I asked Sam, "You feeling strong?"

  He nodded.

  "Okay, I want two up here for lifting. Mutt, you're down there with me. So I need one more."

  Fish and Merrick looked at each other. I waited them out. They were working this out between them.

  Merrick broke the silence. "You've fought these things before, right?"

  Fish nodded. He seemed to accept going down with relative calm.

  Merrick surprised everyone by saying, "No, I meant that you know you can do it. I have to find out sometime. Might as well be now."

  I was impressed, but I also didn't want to give him a chance to change his mind. I wrapped the rope around my waist several times and stepped to the edge. "Well, let's get this over with. Once we get in, we'll fill some duffels with weapons and you two pull them up."

  "Sure thing, Orpheus." I was still getting used to the name. "We'll get warmed up for when we have to pull your giant ass to the roof. Oh, wait, we have to lower your giant ass down right now."

  "I'll try to use my legs." I dropped one leg down and said, "So help me God, if you joke around while I'm on this thing..."

  Fish said, "Even I'm pretty sure we should leave the goofing back at the hospital." I
felt a little bit better. I remember thinking that I'd done this exact same kind of thing on the obstacle course way back in basic training. No big deal.

  All it took was being lowered down a few feet for that to change. As soon as team disappeared from my line of sight, I felt completely isolated. Then I looked down at the throng of hungry things falling all over each other to get to me, and I figured that isolated wasn't so bad sometimes.

  I yelled up to them. "Okay, that's far enough!" I stopped with a bit of a jolt. I braced my feet on the sill and tried to open the window. Of course it was locked. Ruddy lived here, after all. I pulled my sidearm and warned my team that they'd hear shots. I wasted a few rounds on the glass, then kicked out the rest. It was pitch black, so I turned on my flashlight to make sure I was alone.

  Nothing.

  I squeezed through the pane and untangled myself. I pulled the rope a couple of times to signal for more slack, then tied it off to the bottom of one of the heavy bedposts. I stuck my head out and yelled for them to join me. Mutt shimmied down the rope surprisingly nimbly for a man of our age. The kid just kind of floated in effortlessly.

  The three LED beams lit up the entire room. Ruddy was neater than I thought he'd be. The only clutter was on a table in the corner. On it was a collection of wires and electronic components. I guessed he was building his own illegal listening device or something. "Let's head on down. Minimize the beam with your thumb."

  As I left the room, I tried to place the smell that permeated the room.

  I led them downstairs and we went right to work. I kept a wary eye on the zombies at the windows, but their attention was fixed upwards. Sam and Fish must have been drawing their attention to keep it off of us. Team players all the way.

  "Found the bags." Mutt threw duffels at us. "Kid, you get the boots." I handed him the list of sizes, too.

  Mutt and I started loading up. We grabbed a few handguns, shotguns, and AR15s. That was really all we needed for guns. We dumped in ammo by the armload.

  "Hey, kid, come here a sec."

  "Sir?"

  "Lift this."

  Merrick grabbed the handles and pulled. He seemed surprised by the weight. Mutt and I chuckled. The kid reset himself, lifted, and got it onto his shoulder.

  Mutt golf-clapped. "Change of plans, kid. We'll load the bags, you get to hump them up the stairs and rope 'em."

  "Got it." He walked to the stairs, stopped, and looked back at us. He shifted the weapons bag, grabbed the boot bag, and lugged them both up the stairs.

  "Makes a heckuva pack mule," Mutt said.

  "Don't tell Trager this, but I'm glad we brought him. It would take forever with just the two of us."

  "We're not breaking any records standing around here and jawing, either."

  "Point taken."

  We went back to looking for gear. I loaded up another bag with hunting knives, multitools, gloves, flashlights, batteries, pretty much whatever I thought might be useful in survival.

  Or my own personal agenda.

  "Hey, we need BDU's?"

  I thought about it for a second. "Not me. I kind of like this jumpsuit, and we have a million of them back at the hospital."

  "I'm thinking the same thing. Hey, radios! 20+ mile range."

  "Perfect, I-"

  Merrick almost got himself shot when he returned without announcing himself first. My reflexes took over and I drew.

  "Whoa! Sorry!"

  I let out a breath. "That's a good way to get yourself killed."

  "Sorry," he repeated. "I, uh, had a thought."

  I waited for a moment. "And?"

  "Right! You said this guy was a big survivalist, huh?"

  "You could say that."

  "So he must have an emergency stash around here. Weapons, lights, cash..."

  "And food."

  "Yeah."

  It was a pretty good idea. There was a big store of food at the hospital, but a stash of MRE's wouldn't hurt, and we were right here. "Five minutes. Then we go."

  We headed to the back of the store and found Ruddy's office. I thought Ruddy would understand if we ignored his "KEEP OUT" sign just this once. I motioned for Merrick to open the door; we covered him.

  We saw Ruddy hunched down in the corner, moving something around. I could hear him mumbling about something. I didn't know him all that well, but I was glad that he was alive. He represented hope. "Ruddy, hey, it's Cameron Holt."

  

  I heard the mumbling and I figured we were clear. He was alive, and we’d have another useful guy to bring back to the hospital.

  But when he turned around…he was inhuman.

  I’ll be honest; I froze. I had no chance of getting my weapon up in time. He screeched something incomprehensible and came at me. I kicked him in the gut hard enough to make any normal guy double-up and spit blood, but Ruddy charged through it. He crashed into me and I stumbled over another bag of gear. I went over backwards and landed on my back. I tried to put my forearm into his throat, but I had no leverage.

  He chomped down on my shoulder, and I screamed more in horror than pain.

  Mutt and the kid saved my life. Mutt grabbed Ruddy by his shoulder holster and tore him off of me, while Merrick picked up the weapon that I’d dropped and splattered Ruddy’s brains all over the side wall of his office. I kicked him off and jumped to my feet.

  I unzipped my jumpsuit and took off my t-shirt in a panic. I looked at my shoulder, but couldn’t see anything. “Fuck! Light!”

  “Boss, you ok-“

  “Gimme some fucking light on this!”

  A circle of pure white light framed the bite marks on my shoulder. I rubbed my hands over the wound and looked at them. No blood. I wanted to relax, but I remember a fall that Ethan took when he was about four. He was running around the dining room and slipped on a rug, smacking his forehead on the corner of a side table. I picked him up and looked at the spot while he wailed. For a few seconds, I didn’t see anything, then the blood started to pour. It looked a lot worse than it was; head wounds typically do. He was fine a few minutes later.

  But this time, if I saw blood, it might have been one of the last things I ever saw.

  I kept wiping and looking, wiping and looking.

  “Jesus, can you hold still for a minute? I can’t see a thing!” Mutt yelled. I stopped and tried to bite down the panic. “Yup,” he said, matter-of-factly.

  “Yup, what???” It was the end, I knew it.

  “Yup, I sure am glad we decided to keep these jumpsuits. You’re fine.”

  “Are you sure?” Merrick asked.

  “Yeah. The marks are already fading, boss.” I must have had a doubtful look on my face, because he said, “If I wasn’t sure, do you really think I’d be standing within face-chomping distance? I’d pull out my piece and start telling you about the rabbits.”

  “The what?”

  Mutt and I both laughed. “Tell you later,” I said as I slid my shirt back on and zipped up my jumpsuit. From that point on, it was officially the only thing I’d wear on a mission. I was convinced.

  My pulse eventually returned to normal. I thanked both of them for their quick action, covered up the rest of Ruddy with a camouflage tarp that I thought he’d just love to be buried in, and we searched the office.

  The kid was right. There were cases of MREs stacked against the back wall, right next to an open hidden access panel. Ruddy must have been pulling out his supplies in preparation for withstanding the siege, or somehow running from it. I told Merrick as much, and he got this "aw, shucks" look on his face. He grabbed boxes of MREs and double-timed them upstairs.

  A silence descended on the bottom floor, and I chanced a look at the front of the store. Those things just kind of milled about outside. They must have lost interest in the guys on the roof. They certainly couldn't see, hear, or ... and thi
s was a scary thought ... smell us, either. My mind started to wander. I thought of Jackie and Ethan, and I wasn't doing them any favors by dicking around. I had work to do.

  Mutt seemed to share the same sentiment. "Jameson returns in about ten minutes. What's say we help the kid out?"

  I instinctively looked at my wrist at the watch that normally would be there. As of that moment, it was on my bathroom sink. Dammit, I liked that watch. I scanned the glass cases in front of me. Of course Ruddy had survival watches, too. I walked around to the back of the counter and helped myself to a few. The other guys might need one, too, and I'd hate to think we might handicap ourselves on a mission because someone didn't have a watch.

  I loaded up a final bag. Mutt hefted his to his shoulder and took the stairs. We met Merrick as he was coming down. "Perfect timing; I can hear the chopper coming back."

  "Bags loaded?" Mutt asked.

  "Yes, sir. Did you guys happen to see a key down there?"

  Mutt shrugged and grunted. I just asked why.

  "He's got a safe in that crawlspace. I figure there must be something valuable in there."

  "No key, sorry."

  Merrick got a look on his face, the look of an epiphany. If I'd been paying more attention, I would have jumped all over it. He said, "I think I know where it is!" and bounded down the stairs.

  I shouted at him to hurry up, and Mutt and I continued to Ruddy's room. We dropped the bags next to the tied-off ropes and attached them. I leaned my head out the window and yelled, "Last two bags! Pull 'em up!" I felt the slack in the ropes tighten. Mutt and I hefted the bags out the window and watched them go upwards and out of sight. A single rope came back down, waiting for a passenger.

  "After you," I said to Mutt.

  He tied off a simple but sturdy loop. He maneuvered out the window and sat with his legs dangling over the side. As he slid his foot in the loop, he asked, "Where's the kid?"

  "I'll get him. Just get up there and make sure we didn't forget anything."

  "Copy."

  I heard Sam say, "Any time now, gentlemen!"