Run_Book 3_Long Road Home

by Rich Restucci

  The entrance to the coffee shop was locked, but the interior lever-style door handle broke on the third try with the rifle butt. I’ve wrecked more stuff with the wrong end of this gun than with the business end, Billy thought to himself.

  He slowly pushed the door all the way open and noticed a supply area with an ancient timecard machine and some plaques on the wall. Sundries and bags of stuff sat on shelves or the floor, while buckets and canisters of liquids resided against the far wall. All of it looked undisturbed except an open case of soda with several cans missing. The case of soda stuck out because it sat in the middle of the floor. Billy slowly pushed open a small divider door between the serving counter and the back room. The main area of the coffee shop was dark, with slivered beams of light streaming in through the mesh-covered windows at the front. His eyes roamed over the large room, searching for living occupants. He put his hands on the serving counter, his eyes flicking briefly over the multitude of coffee-making apparatuses. He could make out tables with chairs atop them, but not much else further in the room.

  “So, is anybody here?” he asked in a hushed voice. “I’m the guy who just smoked all the rotten freaks that were about to smash in here and eat you.”

  He received no response, so he moved on into the main room. The dead rarely battered on doors or windows without provocation, so Billy was certain something alive had been spotted. He hoped it wasn’t a rat. Billy hated rats. “It’s not the tail,” he muttered to himself, “it’s not.”

  “Well, I haven’t had a decent cup of coffee in months, so I think I’ll just start up all this really loud machinery and grab myself a cappuccino…”

  Billy waited expectantly, but nobody came forward. Retching off to his right clued him in to where the person was.

  He smiled, moving past the serving counter and swinging around to the right. “You must have been terrible at hide and seek…” He cut off his own sentence with a quiet exclamation. “Oh.”

  A man, who would be tall if he were vertical, lay on the floor, a small handgun aimed in Billy’s general direction. The man aimed the weapon with shaky hands. He guarded a boy and a girl, fifteen or younger, both of whom stared at Billy with terrified eyes. The girl cradled the man’s feverish head in her lap. The boy held a bandage made of paper towels over a wound on the man’s side. There wasn’t a lot of blood, but Billy could see by the man’s state that it wasn’t the severity of the wound which was problematic, it was its nature.

  Billy raised his hands in supplication. “Bitten?”

  Nobody responded, but the kids looked even more scared, if it were possible.

  “Okay, so you’re freaking me out with that gun pointed at me while you’re shaking like a Chihuahua with the flu.” Billy kept his hands elevated, but pointed his index finger at the man. “You want me to look at it?”

  The man kept his eyes on Billy as he turned his head to the left and spit. “Would it help?”

  “Not if you’re bitten and by the looks of it, they got you at least a few hours ago. You know what that means for them, right?” Billy indicated the kids.

  The man narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know you.”

  “I don’t know you either, but of the two of us, I’m the one with the weapon pointed at him.”

  A slam from behind them made everybody jump. Billy put his hands all over himself for a second before he released a breath of terror.

  The man looked at him oddly. “What are you doing?”

  “Uhh…checking myself for holes. I thought you shot me!”

  Another slam then several more made Billy look over his shoulder at the front of the store again. The dead had returned and were intent on getting in the shop.

  Billy sighed. “Look, buddy, I realize that we just met and stuff, but I get people out of the city all the time. It’s kind of my thing.” He glanced at the kids then got on his haunches, looking the man in the eye. “I’ll get them out.”

  The man began to cough, blood flecking his lips. He lost consciousness and the gun clattered to the tiled floor. Billy left it there as he moved in to check the man.

  He put his hand on the boy’s arm, nodding toward the man’s injury. “Let me see, okay?”

  The kid nodded and Billy pulled the paper towels away. The man had clearly been bitten. The wound was approximately three inches below and to the left of the man’s left nipple and it stunk.

  “What’s your name?” Billy asked the boy as he put the back of his hand on the man’s forehead. It was like caressing a furnace.

  “Kyle,” the kid said in a deep voice for one so young.

  Billy looked at the young girl. “And yours?”

  “Vanessa.”

  “Mine’s Billy. Your dad… I mean, you guys know what happens, right? There’s not a lot I can do.”

  “He’s not our dad,” Vanessa told him. “We’re not even brother and sister. His name is Daniel and he’s been watching over us.”

  “The three of us will watch over each other for a while.” Billy looked back over his shoulder at the front windows. The grating wasn’t giving way, but it was beginning to hit the glass. There were dozens of infected smacking their fists and palms against the metal now.

  When Billy turned back around, Daniel was looking at him with one red eye. “Hurts.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Can you move?”

  “Not fast enough.”

  Billy nodded. “They’ll be in here soon. How do you want to handle it? You or me?”

  “I’ll do it,” Daniel told him through clenched teeth, “but not in front of the kids.”

  “Gotcha. Kids, say your good-byes.” Billy stood. “We have to leave.”

  With tears in her eyes, Vanessa laid Daniel’s head down on the cool floor.

  “Take care of each other,” he told the kids.

  “Goodbye, Daniel. Thank you.” Kyle stood and moved next to Billy.

  The front window exploded from the repeated impact of the grate against it. Shards rained down on the floor at the front of the shop in a symphony of shattering glass. The mesh was spent and would hold the intruders at bay for only a few moments more.

  “Good luck, Daniel,” Billy said, reaching back to pick up the discarded weapon. Billy made sure the gun was loaded then pressed the revolver into the dying man’s palm.

  “Here, take this, too.” Daniel tried to pass his backpack to Billy, but he lacked the strength. Kyle reached down and grabbed it, slinging it over one shoulder as he stood back up. Billy put his hand out and Vanessa took it immediately. They walked away from Daniel, each of the children picking up a small pack. Billy took Daniel’s pack from Kyle and shouldered it. Vanessa looked back once and then Daniel was lost from sight.

  Billy grabbed a six-pack of soda by one of the cans and broke off three. He passed one to each kid, popped the top of his, and guzzled half of it. A small burp later and he was telling the kids what was about to happen.

  “Okay, so the street is thick with them out front. We can use the fire escapes and the roofs to get as far as we can then we hit the street all the way back to the school.”

  “School?” asked Kyle.

  “Yeah. It’s where I got all the other kids to.”

  Vanessa took a sharp breath. “There’s other kids?

  “Well, there were, but I already got them to—” A single shot from the front room made everyone go silent. It was extremely loud. Vanessa lowered her head and began to openly cry.

  “I’m so sorry, Vanessa.”

  She nodded, still crying. Kyle put a hand on her shoulder and she sobbed. The grate came crashing into the room behind them, the sounds of feet on broken glass and the hissing hack of the dead filling the store.

  Billy filed the kids into the hallway, closing the access behind them, but the handle was broken, so he couldn’t lock it. He put his ear to the steel exterior door, shook his head, and decided to take the kids up through the insurance agency. The dead had made it into the back room of the Starbucks before Billy had cl
osed and locked the delivery hall door. He and the kids climbed the narrow staircase up to the offices and Billy took them in.

  He had a thought and he didn’t like it. He hadn’t truly cleared these offices when he had come through before.

  “Let’s catch our breath, okay?” He picked an office with a solid door, cleared the small room quickly, and ushered the kids in. “Here.” He passed Kyle his knife, but the boy shook his head and drew a small pistol from a hidden holster on his right hip. The kid held the weapon with two hands, pointing down.

  Billy raised his eyebrows. “Safety on?”

  “Yes. Daniel was a stickler for that.”

  Billy turned to Vanessa. “And do you…?” She was already holding a large combat knife. Well done, Daniel, Billy thought.

  “I’m going to check the other offices,” Billy began, but the kids both took in a sharp breath.

  Kyle narrowed his eyes. “Daniel said we always need to stay together. Always. What if you get bitten?”

  Billy smiled. “I won’t. This is one promise I can make for sure: They won’t bite me.”

  Kyle was wary and Billy could see that he thought Billy’s proclamation was dubious. “I still don’t want to separate.”

  “Okay, but stay behind me. Vanessa, you stay in between us, and Kyle, you cover the rear?

  “This is how we used to do it with Daniel,” she told him.

  They moved from the office, but before they could begin their sweep, they heard the delivery door crash open. They could hear the infected begin to swarm the stairs. Several thumps came crashing speedily up the steps and almost immediately, something began its furious hammering on the insurance office’s upper door. There had been no inhuman scream, but the pace with which the thing had sprinted up the stairs and the pounding could only mean one thing: a Runner.

  “Down here! Follow me!”

  Billy raced through a few cubicles to the still-open window where he had gained entry to this floor from outside. He stuck his head out into the warm early-evening air to check the fire escape and it was clear.

  “Go!” He started helping the kids through the window when the splintering crack of broken wood filled the air. Now the thing screamed as it tore through the offices, looking for the uninfected. Billy had Kyle almost all the way through the window when the creature tore around a corner, spying Billy over the chest-high partitions. It focused on him briefly, its eyes going wide, then it growled and came for him. Billy pushed the boy the rest of the way through the window, considered for a split second following him, but turned to face the oncoming threat. He was able to bring the rifle to bear and fire off one shot, striking the creature in the left side of its stomach, before it was on him.

  The thing hit him full speed, the bullet not slowing it down. The rifle went sideways as they both smashed into the window frame, the back of Billy’s head smacking against the bottom of the open window. He was stunned for half a second, but this thing was not. The creature had been an athletic young man and it was incredibly strong. It grabbed hold of Billy’s right wrist while it slashed with its free hand. Billy felt the sting of fingernails carving furrows in his face and briefly wondered if he were now infected. He had battled these things and their dead cousins for a year and this was the first time one of them had broken his skin.

  He shot his fist out, connecting with the thing’s chin, forcing its head up. He punched it in the stomach wound and the thing screamed. The scream sounded like a normal Runner scream, not a bellow of pain. It stared at Billy, its eyes burning into him before it opened its mouth impossibly wide, saliva dripping.

  Billy sucked in air to let out a yell.

  “Hey, asshole!”

  The young infected whipped its head up to glower out the window and received a shot to the forehead for its trouble. It collapsed and Billy shoved it off him quickly, extricating himself from the dead weight. He held his hand to his face and it came away bloody. He was still looking at his bloody palm when the dead rounded the corner and shuffled toward him. He climbed through the window and received a glare from Kyle.

  “Won’t bite you, my ass.”

  Billy scowled. “Rated G please.” He gave a half nod toward Vanessa and slammed the window down, only to remember he had broken it on the way in.

  He rolled his eyes. “Smooth.”

  Billy began to trek down the fire escape, the kids behind him. In a few seconds, the dead began to crawl through the window above them. Infected began to fill the iron catwalks and they filed down the steps after the humans. One toppled over the side and landed on the street below with the crunch of broken bones. Billy reached the ladder and climbed down, helping Vanessa after him, Kyle bringing up the rear. The undead that had fallen off the fire escape reached for them, but it was too badly damaged to move. Two more undead came around the corner into the street they were on, immediately heading in their direction. Billy began walking toward them.

  “What…what are you doing?” demanded Kyle.

  Billy pointed. “We need to go this way.” He drew his knife, turned his back on the approaching dead, and folded his arms. Kyle and Vanessa, eyes wide, began to back up. When the dead were almost on Billy, Vanessa threw her face in her hands. Kyle pointed his weapon at them, but Billy held up a finger and nodded. The infected marched right past him, one of them looking at him briefly on its way to the kids. Billy destroyed both quickly and caught up to the children, looking smug.

  “What do you think now?”

  Kyle blinked. “I think you’re crazy.”

  “Weerrp!” Billy said and touched his finger to his nose.

  Lincoln, Nebraska

  Two scouts sat atop the roof of the abandoned Shuster’s Meats meat-packing warehouse just off Route Six, northeast of Lincoln Nebraska. They had been playing five-card draw with a beat-up deck of playing cards for a day and a half. Their job was to guard this entry into the city of Lincoln. More to the point, they were to radio in to their base in Cornhusker Stadium if they saw anything. They would be relieved in twelve hours, just before eight PM. Barry had a low straight, and thought he would be taking Art’s bet of four cigarettes, but they were interrupted. They stared at each other wide-eyed when they heard the strangest sound. The game forgotten, they dropped their cards. Barry picked up a huge pair of binoculars, Art a scoped Marlin hunting rifle. They peered cautiously down the road.

  An ice cream truck drove slowly down Route Six, a tune blaring from it as loudly as possible.

  “Oh my God, we’re dead.”

  “Jesus…” Art breathed, “Jesus Christ! Call it in right now!”

  Barry fumbled for his radio while Art tried to get a look at the driver. The front window of the good humor truck, as well as most of the vehicle, was armored. Art was unable to discern the driver through his rifle scope. The vehicle was perhaps a mile down the road, but the scouts were able to hear and see the truck because of the level terrain.

  The truck was interesting, but what followed chilled both men to the bone. The driver towed infected behind him as far as the eye could see. Thousands, hundreds of thousands plodded along. A few hundred Runners were at the forefront of the mass, chasing the truck with woefully inadequate speed. They would catch the vehicle and it would speed up for a few hundred yards, then slow down again.

  The truck was definitely leading the pack.

  “Command,” Barry blurted into the radio, “this is Northeast Six, come in!” He sounded terrified.

  “We read you Six, what’s on fire, over?”

  “Command, we’re looking at a swarm of infected! I’ve never seen anything like it. It looks like millions, over!”

  A chuckle came over the radio. “Millions, huh? Barry, if you’re drunk, it won’t go well for you when you get back. The brass tends to frown on drinking on duty.”

  Art grabbed the radio. “Listen, Rocky, you little piss-ant fuck! Get someone who matters on the radio now or I swear to God I will kill you when I get back!”

  “Uh, okay Art, hol
d on.” The man on the other end of the radio, Rocky, knew that Art meant what he said. Several of the men in the Triumvirate forces were simply not to be screwed around with, and Art was one of them.

  Less than a minute later, a new voice sounded through the radio. “This is Major Tower. Report, Six?”

  “Major, I’m looking at the largest swarm of infected I’ve ever seen. There has to be more than half a million. They’re being led by an ice cream truck.”

  “Copy that, Six. Hunker down and wait them out. We’ll get you as soon as we can. Tower out.”

  “What?” demanded Barry. “What the fuck did he just say?”

  Art clipped the radio to his belt and sighed. “He said he agrees with you; we’re dead.”

  “Roger that,” Major Tower said into a different radio. “Scramble two Warthogs and two Apaches, on my authority. Send them to the coordinates I’ve given you and tell them to engage.

  “Sir,” came the reply, “Recht has given specific orders not to—”

  “I don’t give a shit what Recht says!” Tower screamed. “That asshole isn’t in charge of military operations, Bourne is! With Bourne and Brooks gone, military control starts and ends with me! Scramble the birds or I fucking shoot you! You have five minutes!”

  As soon as Art had turned his radio off, the ice cream truck had stopped broadcasting its tune and had sped up. It flew by the meat-packing plant toward Lincoln. It disappeared into the city shortly after. The swarm continued to follow, and soon the cries and moans of the dead were so loud Barry put his hands over his ears and scrunched his eyes closed. Art glanced at his partner in disgust. If he didn’t think he might need this asshole, he would kill him right now just for being a pussy.

  The packing plant was sealed up tight with metal shutters, and even if the dead bastards gained entry, the stairs to the roof ended in a six-foot ladder to climb. They were safe.

  Two A10 attack planes screamed overhead. They made a wide circle then they came back, their noses dipped slightly. They had begun a strafing run, one plane behind the other. A sound like a gigantic zipper being opened rent the air as 30mm rounds spewed from the Avenger Gatling cannon on the nose of the A10 Warthog. Both Art and Barry stood from their concealed positions to view the swarm after the first pass. The planes circled and returned for a second run.