Machines of the Dead

by David Bernstein

  “Dude,” Zaun said.

  “Guy must’ve kidnapped her. The girl in the hallway too. Abused the hell out of them.”

  “Sick bastard,” Maria spat.

  The zombie kept reaching for them, its lips pulled back, jaw opening and closing.

  “I got it,” Zaun said.

  “No,” Maria said, holding out her arm. “I want this one.”

  Zaun looked at Maria as if she were crazy.

  “Give her your sword,” Jack said.

  Zaun removed the weapon and handed it to Maria. “Use the eye socket; blade goes in easiest that way.”

  “Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Maria assured him.

  Jack and Zaun left the bathroom, leaving Maria to it. For some reason, she wanted to kill it and Jack wasn’t about to stop her or ask why. As they moved into the living room, he heard Maria grunt and could only imagine the blade sinking into the undead girl’s brain.

  Maria exited the bathroom, and gave Zaun his weapon back.

  “You cleaned the blade,” he said, surprised.

  “I always return what I borrow in the condition it was given.”

  They combed through the apartment, finding pornographic magazines, dildos in all varieties, whips and bondage equipment in the closet of the bedroom, and boxes upon boxes of DVDs and video cassette tapes, all with female names and dates on them. Jack found some as old as 1986. The sick fuck had been raping and torturing women for a very long time. No one wanted to see what was on the things; the guy was dead, the law could do nothing anymore. Once they got to a safe place, they could report the findings.

  “I’m not staying here,” Maria said when they met up in the living room.

  Jack nodded.

  “This place is evil,” Zaun said. “Creep’s me the hell out.”

  They left the apartment and went over to 3F. A thin metal ladder leading to the roof, stood in a small alcove to the left of the apartment. The apartment’s red door looked brand new, not a mark on it. Jack tried to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Three Mul-T-Lock locks took up the space above the handle. Running his fingers over the door, Jack felt cold steel, unlike the other apartments’ doors that were wood. He knocked, feeling the solidness of the steel, like banging on the vault at a bank.

  “We aren’t getting in there,” he said.

  “Wonder what’s inside,” Zaun said. “Why the security?” He kicked the door a few times, then shook his head. “Forget it.”

  “So,” Jack said, “2F it is.”

  Chapter 22

  They set up camp in 2F, pulling the mattress from the bedroom into the living room. Maria decided to take the first watch, telling the others how serving in the military had conditioned her to function in good form with little to no sleep.

  The sun was shining brightly, its rays illuminating the room, filling it with warmth. She left the shades up in order to have a view of the outside, doubting the bright light would keep Jack or Zaun from falling asleep.

  In the kitchen, she opened a can of beans and ate enough to satisfy her hunger, knowing that eating too much before going on watch, especially with no sleep, was a bad idea. A full belly often led to sluggish movements and the potential to nod off.

  She pulled a chair over to the window and sat, looking out over the street and buildings across the way. The place was like a ghost town, unease settling into her. Off in the distance she saw gray smoke rising into the sky. She imagined there had to be a number of fires throughout the city and was glad that none seemed to be nearby. Candy bar wrappers and old newspapers tumbled by as gusts of wind pushed them around. She couldn’t get over the number of vehicles left in the street and parked along side it. It was hard to imagine anyone leaving their car, but such things, material things, proved meaningless in the grand scheme of things. Panic must have spread rapidly as people fled to safety, to loved ones.

  And where were all the dead? Maria and the others were in Brooklyn, a borough consisting of over two million people.

  Then, as if the cosmos had heard her, a lone zombie entered the scene. It was male, dressed in a dark gray business suit, walking very slowly down the street. Right behind it was another zombie, this one female, with long brown hair. It was wearing black spandex pants with an electric blue stripe running down the side and a matching top. The skin was flayed from its arms and legs, the face miraculously intact.

  Looking at the male again, she saw something dangling from its waist to the ground and trailing behind it. Maria grimaced, realizing the object was the thing’s intestines. Other than that, it appeared fine, save the limp.

  The female zombie was gaining on the male, walking almost twice as fast, still slow however. Maria watched as it drew closer, then stepped on the male’s intestines. The male zombie jerked to a stop, then fell forward to the pavement as the sausage-like organ snapped.

  Maria turned away, disgusted. By the time she looked back, the male was up again, walking, the female slightly ahead of him.

  During the first hour of her watch, Maria saw a total of fifteen undead walk by the building, the most gruesome being a female pulling herself along, having no lower half, and leaving pieces of its body behind.

  During her second hour of guard duty, she grew tired, her head falling forward or back, jolting her awake. She pulled out a picture of her five-year-old daughter, Alexis, and stared at it, drawing the strength she needed. She imagined the day when she arrived back in North Carolina and could see her little girl again. Maria closed her eyes and felt her daughter’s soft skin on her own as she hugged her child. She heard Alexis’ cute laugh and tender, high-pitched voice. Opening her eyes, she stared at the picture. Her daughter had the most beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous smile.

  Tears welled up in Maria’s eyes and she blinked rapidly, fighting to keep them at bay. She stuffed the picture back into her pocket. Ten minutes later, weariness fell over her again. She needed to stand, to move around.

  Getting to her feet, she walked around the room, the floor groaning slightly here and there but not nearly enough to wake the others. It would probably take the rumbling of a passing train to do that, Maria thought.

  She went over to a bookcase and saw that it was filled with romance and science fiction novels, along with a few horror titles. She thought about reading, but that never worked for her when she was tired; it would only cause her to nod off.

  She went into the bedroom and found a small handheld radio. Finding the power button, she turned it on. Static blasted from the speaker and she quickly lowered the volume. Set to FM, she went through the stations finding nothing but static. Switching to AM, she discovered that all the major stations were playing a pre-recorded message. Listeners were told to stay away from any infected. Hospitals were being evacuated. People were to remain in their homes until the situation was resolved. An updated message would soon follow.

  She wondered how long the message had been playing. Based on what she and the others had seen, she doubted there would be an update. A new message would have told people to flee the area, at least she hoped it would’ve said that. No, the CDC would want people to remain where they were, preventing the spread of the contagion. She wondered if the public or the CDC knew the reason the dead were coming back to life.

  Maria shut the radio off and left the bedroom.

  Taking her M4 with her, sidearm at her hip, she decided to check out the building; make sure things were quiet. Yes, they did a thorough check of the place, but it was still reasonable to patrol the interior.

  She went to the first floor, not liking how accessible the building was. With no lock, Jack having blown it out, anyone or thing could waltz right inside. The outer door was somewhat secure, at least as far as the undead were concerned, the mindless things unable to turn a doorknob, but a living person would have no trouble.

  Maria and the others weren’t the only survivors. She was sure of it; and when it came to people, some were good and some were bad. There was no telling how an individual would
act in the face of what was going on in the city. The law was gone, and people were looking out for themselves.

  The ground floor windows were barred, which made the entranceway the only weak point. She headed to 1R, the rear apartment on the first floor, and grabbed a kitchen chair. Bringing it back to the foyer, she wedged it under the outer door’s knob. It wouldn’t stop a determined individual, but would slow him down or cause him to change his mind and go to another building. Bottom line, it was better than nothing.

  She went back into 1R, looked around, and came away with a mop bucket, a few containers of bleach, and a bottle of drain cleaner. She poured the bleach into the bucket, then found a vase, dumped the dead flowers out, and emptied the drain cleaner into it. She placed the vase into the bucket, making sure the bleach didn’t overflow into it.

  Grabbing another chair, she set it by the building’s inner door and hoisted the chemical-filled bucket onto the top of the partially open door. The idea was the same as the bucket-of-water-on-the-head gag, the unsuspecting person getting soaked with cold water, except in her version the individual would get doused with a bucket of toxic chemicals that when mixed, caused severe burns and possible blindness.

  Satisfied with the new security measures, Maria headed up the stairs to the third floor. There was no way she was going into apartment 3R, not with what went on in there. And looking at 3F, the apartment with the vault-like door, she decided to check out the roof.

  Shouldering her weapon, she climbed the ladder, pulled the lever on the roof hatch and opened it. Cold morning air brushed her face, sending a welcomed chill all the way down to her toes. Looking around, there was only roof extending in both directions. The wind blew hard against the hatch and Maria decided she had seen enough of nothing. Coming back down, she closed the lid and thought she heard a noise. A clicking sound. Pausing on the ladder, she listened, but heard nothing.

  She returned to 2F, making sure to enter the apartment as quietly as possible. The others deserved their sleep, for she wanted them alert and well-rested when it was their time to take up the watch.

  She headed over to the window, walking around Jack’s sleeping form. Looking out, her jaw fell open, breath caught in her chest. Five men—bunker-men—dressed in black fatigues, carrying machine guns, were right outside the building. One of the men stepped forward, reached back, and threw something at her.

  At the last second, she saw what it was—a flash bang grenade, and dove away from the window, landing behind the sofa. The sound of shattering glass, like a banshee’s scream, broke the tranquility of the moment. She covered her ears and squeezed her eyes shut, like a young child about to receive a tetanus shot.

  The room seemed to shake around her as the grenade went off. Even with her ears covered, she heard the bomb’s explosion and felt its impact.

  Maria never expected the guards to attack, let alone during daytime hours. She figured they had long given up on them. Damn it, if she had remained at the window she would have seen them coming. It had been a terrible mistake to assume they wouldn’t come after them and foolish to have set up camp so near to the operations center. She needed to act fast. A blitzkrieg-like attack was upon them; hit hard and overwhelm.

  Standing up, Maria’s ears were ringing but she was at least able to see. Jack and Zaun were rolling around on the floor, holding their ears and seeming a little more than confused. She yelled to them, telling them that they were under attack, but doubted they could hear her.

  Another flashbang came in through the window. The bastards were really pouring it on. Maria dove into the bathroom, climbing into the tub just as the device went off. She saw the flash of light through her eyelids, the tub shielding her from a direct blast. Thank goodness, the guards didn’t have real grenades, or they’d all be dead right now. Reynolds must want them alive.

  Getting up, she went back into the living room and saw the others on the floor, feeling around like the blind.

  With her M4 still strapped to her back, she moved to the apartment’s door. She had no idea if the men were on their way up. Her ears were still ringing a little and it made hearing where the enemy was, more difficult. The group’s only chance was for her to escape and get the drop on Reynolds’ men, hoping Jack and Zaun could get their heads straight while she held them off.

  She opened the door a crack. Seeing the hallway clear, she bolted from the apartment, leaped over the dead body, and went into 2R. Just as she closed the door, she thought she heard a loud scream from downstairs. Her booby trap at work?

  Placing her M4 against the wall, she readied her sidearm.

  Looking through the peephole, Maria saw four armed men come up the stairs. Where was the fifth? As the men proceeded toward 2F, their backs to her, she opened the door.

  The man closest to her turned around. His eyes widened at seeing her, but before he had a chance to raise his weapon, Maria sent a bullet through his left eye socket, dropping him quickly. Moving her aim to the second target, she fired, hitting him in the side of the head, his body falling away. The third man was pointing his gun her way, but she managed to get off a shot before he did, and watched the bullet take his ear off. The man’s hand clutched at his head and he went down.

  Before she could take out the fourth man, he was firing at her. Maria felt the bullets whiz by her head, and fell back. She landed hard on the floor, unable to roll to the side, the wall to her right, the door to her left.

  Unable to do anything else, she waited to feel the sting of bullets.

  Chapter 23

  Jack awoke to a nightmare of ringing in the ears. Sitting up, he didn’t know if he was alive or dead. Everything was white, as if he’d looked into the sun too long. His head pounded. He wondered if he was injured, his whole world in chaos. Alarm, true gut-wrenching panic, began to set in until he remembered what Maria had told him. What he was experiencing were the effects of a flashbang grenade. Had one gone off accidentally? No, that wasn’t likely, but what was likely, was they were under attack. It had to be Reynolds’ people. He and the others weren’t far from the warehouse. They must’ve been watching them, saw where they made camp and waited to strike. Reynolds must be one very pissed off person to have sent his guards out into the undead world.

  Where was Maria? She was supposed to be on watch duty. Had she fallen asleep? Been captured while patrolling the building? On his hands and knees, he began feeling around for a weapon, his vision seeming to clear a little. He felt the softness of a pillow, then his backpack. His fingers came in to contact with cool metal. Wrapping his hand around the item, he knew he had a gun in his hand. Felt like his .45. Holding the weapon close to his face, he could make out its outline.

  Jack remained on his hands and knees, wanting to stay low. He crawled, having no idea which direction he was moving in and smacked into something hard. Every hand-placement and knee-drag was gut wrenching, as he was waiting to be shoved to the floor and manhandled into cuffs.

  Making his way to a wall, Jack went left, hoping he was heading in the direction of the front door. Moving along quickly, he collided into a table of some kind, figuring it to be an end table. Remembering how the room was, he turned himself around and went the other way. He came to a corner, then continued until his fingers brushed against a smooth, rounded metal object protruding from the wall. It had grooves in it as well, as if it were made into separate parts, but held together—a hinge. Then he felt a gap in the wall and the surface area changed to a smoother, wood-like feel. He’d found the door, and it was closed, indicating that no one had gotten inside yet.

  Reaching up, he grabbed the doorknob and pulled himself to his feet. What sounded like muffled gunshots came from the other side of the door. Maria was probably out there and under fire. If she wasn’t in the apartment when the assault happened, then she wouldn’t be affected by the flashbangs.

  He had to help her.

  He thought about going for another gun, but didn’t want to waste time. Opening the door, he peeked out and saw a
guard, the figure facing away from him. Gunfire erupted as the man fired his weapon down the hall at someone. Jack pressed the muzzle of his .45 to the back of the guy’s head and told him to drop it.

  The man’s gun stopped firing.

  “I said drop—”

  The guard went to spin about, attempting to duck low and bring his gun around, but Jack was faster and put a bullet into his temple.

  As the corpse fell to the ground, Jack glanced across the hallway and saw Maria lying on her back, his eyesight almost normal again. He stepped forward, seeing the three downed guards.

  “Maria?” he called out, worried that she wasn’t moving and walked toward her.

  She sat up, a surprised look on her face. “Jack.”

  He didn’t see any holes in her and let out the breath he’d been holding. She was all right. Then her face filled with alarm as she raised her sidearm at him.

  Jack stopped. “It’s me.”

  Maria fired her gun. Jack jumped to the side. She fired again. He turned to look behind him and saw one of the men he thought was dead, fall back against the wall. Maria fired again, and Jack saw a black hole appear in the man’s forehead as he slid to the ground.

  Zaun appeared in the doorway.

  Jack turned to see Maria walking toward him. “Bastard wasn’t dead. I’d only clipped his ear off. Didn’t have time to finish him with the other guy shooting at me. Thought I was a goner. You saved my ass, Jack.”

  “Ditto.”

  “There’s at least one more,” she said. “There were five outside the building when they attacked. Only four came up the stairs.” She explained about the chemical trap.

  “So, maybe one’s out of commission somewhere,” Zaun said.

  “We can’t know for sure.” Maria went over to the stairs.

  Jack told Zaun to stay by the front window and keep an eye out.

  Maria led the way down the stairs.

  The foyer was clear of bodies. The mop bucket was on its side on the floor, and apartment 1F’s door was open.