My journey through the cold dark alley ended without further developments from the crazy stranger who had just changed my life. In the background, a full block over, fighting continued with loud explosions and cries of the dying. I walked east for a block to Central Avenue before heading north past the condos from Tegan’s last stand. The 3rd Avenue Bridge loomed in front of me. It was still heavily guarded but I was no longer concerned with being spotted by the soldiers. By this time I was a walking snowball only slightly higher than the drifts. Unless someone was constantly scanning the streets with infrared glasses I wouldn’t be seen. I cut through the hedges and over a crumbling balcony, through some landscaping and moved down below the bridge to the frontage road along the river. Another block and a half east and I made it to the Riverside complex. It was basically two city blocks of dark restaurants, bars and boutiques before it ended at an old movie theater.
I could no longer hear the fighting and thought maybe the battle was over. I was overcome with loneliness as I moved from business to business, softly humming theLovesick Blues under my breath. For a brief span of time I’d had companions. A second family almost or a third if you counted my father and then Daisy. But now they were gone and likely dead and I was alone to finish my silly search for the pipedream tunnel. During this piteous time I forgot I had some other abilities until it dawned on me that I might be able to not only locate but assist my people if they needed it. When this realization finally hit me I sat on a bus bench and closed my eyes.
My assumption that the battle with the soldiers was over was correct. Hundreds of zombies had been pulled in by my call. They were aimlessly standing around the fallen bodies or slowly drifting away with no more live prey to lure them. I didn’t know what this meant for my group. I jumped from one zombie to the next but saw nothing. An undead gentleman, named Raymond, enabled me to see the funeral home but it was deserted. It didn’t seem any worse for the wear and it appeared there had been no fighting on the premises. I kept on searching going further and further north and west. I found the smoking remains of the jeep Wilson and Lanskey had burned but I could find no sign of them. My only hope was that they’d found an excellent hiding place to ride out the snowstorm. I was starting to go numb and had to find shelter before I got hypothermia.
Moving off the bench I decided to get serious about my tunnel search and put aside my feelings for a while. I stepped through the broken door of a gift shop and plodded around looking for a flashlight which I found in a desk drawer in the back office along with can of cold diet soda. I didn’t realize how thirsty I’d become.
There was a basement but it yielded nothing in the way of tunnels. I concluded this had not been Eva’s bakery. I searched two more shops, a museum and a restaurant but found nothing leaving only the movie theater and a Brazilian themed bar. They were on opposite ends of Riverplace. With a filthy curse I headed for the bar staying as close to the storefront as possible to avoid the deepest of the snow. There were no front windows to the place but the door wasn’t locked so I went inside taking a moment to appreciate being out of the elements if only for a few moments.
As I walked into the relatively mild building, I regretted having left this place for last. My time in the cold now just felt like a pointlessly cruel exercise in self-punishment. The room was arranged in a large square with comfortable chairs located in a variety of pods around the bar. The bar itself was a large wooden oval structure located in the center. To the rear of the room were two doors on opposite sides, one indicated EXIT and the other was unmarked and led to some other unseen portion of the building. Although the place was in a general state of disrepair, it appeared things had once been quite ritzy. It must have been a fun place to hang out back in the day.
Behind the mostly empty bar I found a bottle of bourbon with an ounce or two still left. I removed my wool cap and poured the booze into a shot glass and was preparing a very meaningful toast to the memory of Marybeth and the other fallen when I heard an animal growling. By this time it would seem like I would be used to scary noises and dark places but no, I was startled enough by the sound to drop the shot glass on the floor. After the glass shattered, the growling turned to animated barking. I thought I recognized that bark.
“Mandy, is that you, girl?”
The barking stopped and I heard dog sounds from near the non-exit door in the back of the room as she prepared to approach me. Some shuffling and shaking, a little nervous yipping but she wasn’t ready to come out yet.
“Mandy, it’s okay, come here, baby,” I encouraged as I stepped out from behind the oval bar and moved closer to her position. I was taking a bit of a risk assuming this was Mandy, the dog from my party that I’d only just met. My luck it would be a ravenous wolf on the loose and looking for a tasty man snack. But in this instance my luck was good as she came inching toward me with her head between her front paws. Her tail was tucked under her rump like she had just piddled on the floor and thought she was going to be in trouble. Her leash was still on, dragging behind her as she crawled to me. I went down to one knee to pet her when she finally closed the distance between us. She was shaking like a leaf, clearly terrified.
“Calm down, girl, everything is fine now,” I said gently as I stroked her mane and scratched behind her ears. The trembling subsided somewhat and she licked my hand before turning over so I could rub her belly.
I complied as I continued talking to her, “How the hell did you get in here, Mandy? Huh, girl? How did you do it? How did you do it, you crazy girl.” We were having a good old time now. She was back up on her feet with her tail wagging trying desperately to lick my face while I laughed.
Suddenly there was power in the bar, lights and loud music like someone flipped a switch. I cursed and had a small heart attack while Mandy starting barking and growling. Her hackles were raised and she was staring at the doorway from which she had come, stealing the occasional glance back at me.
All I had for a weapon was the butcher knife, still gory with Marybeth’s blood. I recognized the song, Human by the Killers as the baseline thrummed through the bar. I liked that song a lot but in this context it was a little much. I gave a ‘should we stay or should we go’ look to Mandy but she just kept on growling and barking at that door. The song ran its course while we stood frozen and the track switched toThe Reaper by the Blue Oyster Cult. The song had both fascinated and terrified me as child. I could still see the album cover in my mind. The grim reaper pictured there reminded me of the Creep. I couldn’t handle it anymore, the search for the tunnel could go fuck itself. Mandy and I were leaving. Live to fight another day was suddenly another life motto for me.
Snatching the person-end of the leash off the floor I began backing toward the front door where I’d come in, pulling the dog with me. Neither of us took our eyes off that door for fear the bogeyman was just waiting for us to turn around. In that moment I had the mind of my five year old self and Mandy that of her puppy years. I felt the air get noticeably colder on my exposed neck and knew we were getting close to the door. I took a quick peek over my shoulder and hoped nobody was waiting to get us outside as the song told us about Romeo and Juliet being together in eternity.
There were no windows in the front, no windows in the big door. My imagination began to torture me with what could be waiting out in the cold when we stepped outside. The irony of the song wasn’t wasted on me. Turning my attention back to the interior of the bar I pointed the knife in a slow arc around the room and gave it one last inspection but couldn’t bring myself to stay and deal with whatever malevolence waited beyond that other door. I would rather take my chances that whoever it was lurked inside with me and not outside. Unless it was a tribe of Creeps which was a terrifying thought.
Praying the Creep wasn’t out there hiding, I shouldered the door open and burst outside pulling Mandy along with me as I slashed at the air in what I hoped would be an unexpected move if someone was waiting to get the jump on me. But the only thing outside was snow, wind a
nd darkness. I let the door shut behind me. As it came to rest in its frame the power shut off and the bar was instantly quiet and dark. Someone was seriously fucking with me.
I couldn’t resist, I had to look. Grabbing the handle, I eased the door open, listening to the slow protest of rusty hinges. Inside was dark as a tomb. I stared into that void until my eyes stung from lack of blinking. The dog nuzzled my thigh as if urging me to make a decision or at least pet her while we waited. “Okay, girl, we’ll go in a sec,” I said as I patted her head. I was starting to think I’d imagined the whole episode. The power hadn’t come on. The music hadn’t played. Maybe I was just losing my shit because of what happened to Marybeth. But that thought led me down another terrible rabbit hole. If I imagined the power in the bar, maybe I had imagined the Creep. Which would mean I was the one…
No! I wasn’t going to go there. Not ever! Mandy seemed to agree as she looked up at me and let out a quiet bark. “Okay, you win, girl.”
I took a step back and released the cold metal handle of the door and it began to swing shut. But as it did, I heard a small noise from inside, clear as day.
“Tee-hee-hee.”
Mandy and I ran like hell.
Chapter 18: A Brewing Shit Storm
The Past
“Nancy?”
“Yes, Mr. McCloud?”
“Two double espressos, please. When you get a minute.”
“Right away, sir,” Nancy’s voice belched through the speaker on his desk phone.
William Jamison McCloud scanned the document again, still convinced what he was reading couldn’t possibly be real.
“So what do you think, Bill, should we place a few calls, see if we can get Fox and Scully involved?” asked the man seated across McCloud’s desk. “Shit, what am I talking about? I’m sure those two are already smack dab in the middle of something as big as this.”
Bill glanced up from the paper into the grinning face of his right-hand man, Derrick Lewis. Bill trusted exactly two people in his life. The first was himself and the other was Derrick, the man was rock solid, both physically and professionally. Bill felt silly even showing Derrick the message on the paper and now the man was having a bit of fun at his boss’s expense. “90’s television dramas aside, what do you think?” Bill asked.
The big man chuckled and shifted in his seat, which was too small for his large frame, “I think it sounds crazy as shit. Honestly, are you fucking with me?”
Bill smiled and sighed, “No, but I’ll give you this much, Derrick, it does sound like shit.”
He calmly placed the paper on his desk and covered it with a green folder as the office door opened and Nancy entered with a tray. The two men smiled blandly at her in patient silence as she arranged the espressos in front of them.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you two boys were up to something,” Nancy said in a motherly tone.
“Ah, Nancy, my dear, Derrick and I were just discussing nothing more exciting than the finer points of Minneapolis bureaucracy,” Bill assured.
“I’ll bet you were,” Nancy tittered, “Well, don’t cause too much trouble; you know what happens when you stir the pot.”
“A shit storm,” both men said in unison. They all shared a polite laugh at the old joke as Nancy took the empty tray and made her way out of the office.
“She still has no idea what you used to do?” Derrick asked, the porcelain espresso cup looking comically small in his hand.
“Oh, I think she has her suspicions. She’s just too polite to ever vocalize them. She does her job well and discreetly and that makes her a precious commodity.”
“Here, here,” replied Derrick before sipping from his cup. “So what are we gonna do about this thing?”
“We’ll do what we always do. Find out who the players are and assimilate ourselves into the game. First things first, I need you to reach out to your military contacts. See if you can confirm any of these troop movements. Even though it sounds like the plot of a bad science fiction novel, my source on this was solid. That doesn’t mean it’s for real but Chip believes it could be. I owe the man the courtesy of checking it out.”
“What are you gonna do while I’m doing that?” Derrick asked.
“Check in with a few folks from the old days starting with Shipman, if something odd is brewing he will either know about it or be in the center of it.”
“I thought you hated that dude?”
“Hate is a strong word, besides, a good conspiracy makes for strange bedfellows.”
Derrick nodded and finished the rest of his coffee in one large gulp. “You ever regret it?”
“Regret what?”
“All this old-school cloak and dagger shit?”
“Ha! No, I don’t regret it, I live for it. Anyway, its only old school to young people like you. For me it’s just the way it is. Besides, someone has to play guard dog to all these sheep in wolves’ clothing; it might as well be me.”
Derrick took his leave, anxious to complete his task. Bill knew the man thought it was a fool’s errand and he didn’t really blame him, the whole notion was ridiculous. As he listened to Derrick’s footsteps fade away down the hall, Bill took his coffee and turned his chair so he could gaze out the window of the Foshay Tower.
He hadn’t been truthful with Derrick, he was full of regret. The choices he had made professionally over the years had cost him dearly on a personal level. There wasn’t a day that went by he didn’t brood over his failed marriage or his lousy relationship with his only child. That child, who was a grown man now, a bitter malcontent living out a bland existence just a few short miles away. Bill took that burden on his shoulders as well. After all, he should have been there for George more than he had been. He had ineffectively tried to be the chisel that shaped him into a proper man. But that ship had sailed long ago and now he could only offer the occasional unsolicited advice and hope his son hadn’t truly lost the genetic lottery the way it seemed he had.
Sipping his drink carefully, he took in the view from one of the oldest and smallest high-rise buildings in Minneapolis. In spite of the craziness of the message Chip had sent him, Bill could almost smell trouble in the air. The kind that could bring chaos and turmoil to the city that he loved.
He was too damned old for this nonsense and the hell of it was, he was supposed to be retired. Quasi-retired anyway. A person never really retired from the type of government work he’d built a career doing. He was sure someone from the old days was always keeping tabs on him. Making sure he didn’t talk.
When it became clear to the agency that he didn’t have the heart for wet work anymore he’d been slowly transitioned into more of a consultant role. Then one day that work dried up without warning. No official decommissioning or even a letter of dismissal, just done. Like he’d never been a government agent at all. Something drastic had happened at the top of the bureaucratic food chain. Between himself and a handful of colleagues, they had never been able to learn what it was. In truth, he was happy they hadn’t killed him outright. He knew from personal experience any death could be made to look like an accident.
Instead he used his considerable savings to open his own private security company. His clientele were mostly wealthy corporate leaders worried about espionage or infidelity. But occasionally things got ugly. Which was why he had Derrick. The man had been a godsend when Bill found him looking for work after ten years in the military. They’d been a dynamic duo ever since.
He glanced down at the memo with a frown. The goddamn thing couldn’t be real but if it was then he’d only just begun to glimpse the tip of the iceberg. Just like the Titanic, he feared it was already too late to change course.
…
Bill was sweating profusely as he sat in the lobby of Shipman and Associates – Attorneys At Law. The sunlight streaming through the open blinds was roasting him like a Christmas ham. Loosening the thick knot on his seven-fold silk tie, he adjusted his light-weight suit jacket in his arm. He relaxed his
normally rigid posture and tried to find a modicum of comfort in the thinly padded metal chair. Aside from the elderly receptionist, he was the only person waiting. Somehow all the chairs in the room managed to capture both the sunlight and the heat from the furnace in equal intensity.
As he glanced around the shabbily appointed waiting room he couldn’t help but be amazed by the lengths his old colleague would go to make his guests uncomfortable while they counted off the wasted minutes waiting for an audience with his lordship. The stained carpeting, the drab outdated wallpaper and lack of cellular service were all part of a carefully crafted incubation process rooted in pointless cruelty.
But in spite of his cynicism toward Shipman, Bill suspected the temperature of the room was due largely to the ancient receptionist wrapped up like a mummy in a wool cardigan sweater behind her desk. Only her mottled forehead and wisps of fine white hair were visible from his seated position.
“Mr. McCloud?” Lost in thought as he watched dust motes dance on a sunbeam Bill missed it the first time when the woman called his name. “Mr. McCloud!” she repeated. This time loud enough to capture his attention.
“That’s me,” he replied as he stood hastily to his feet, stretched and approached the tall oak desk. The desk was so large, he wondered briefly if the receptionist had to use a stool to climb into her office chair.
“Yes?” she asked as she looked up from her book.
“You called my name?”
She stared at him with a cross expression on her face as she gently stroked her embroidered book marker.
Running with the Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters Page 15