Legacy of the Living

by Sean Liebling

  The light was coming from a vertical shaft, almost too small for the Reaper to fit in. Gazing upward, he saw a metal grate of the type normally padlocked, which usually led to a small vestibule against a building, like a storm shelter. The crying voice was louder now, and was coming from above them. Jason and Travis also heard the moaning of zombies. In the dim light, they looked at each other, then nodded simultaneously as the Reaper rolled over and started up the shaft, grabbing the inset iron rungs as he pulled himself upward.

  At the top, he gently pushed against the grate and found it unlocked. An inch it rose, then another, and he was soon peering into the interior of the enclosure. Against the far wall was a child, perhaps eight years of age, who was sitting with his back against the concrete wall, arms around his head and sobbing while saying over and over “Jaime, Jaime.” The Reaper could hear the shuffling of zombies and their low-pitched moans, and he raised the grate further, peering through its latticework of thick steel slats. The groan of metal reached his ears as he did so and he saw an iron gateway held shut by what looked like the top half of a baseball bat jammed into the closure. He also saw more legs than he could count of the undead pushing against it. Against the filigree wrought iron door, he saw the bottom half of a small body freshly killed, the top half having been obviously consumed, as scores of hands continued to claw through the bars to rip more flesh and bone from its small form. A quick look confirmed the dead figure was that of a young juvenile. Bile rose in the Reaper’s throat as he observed this, and with a push of his hand he flipped the grate open and raising his rifle, started firing.

  His first magazine emptied, the Reaper finished climbing out of the access hole as Travis, below him, was bellowing for him to move. He quickly reloaded as his young apprentice cleared the opening and started firing his own rifle, making every shot count. Jason turned and padded to the young boy, still crying, arms wrapped around his head, and reaching down, shook his shoulder.

  "Snap out of it, youngster. You’re friend’s gone and we need to get you out of here."

  "Jaime!" If anything, he cried harder.

  "If that's Jaime over there, he's gone, little guy."

  "He was my big brother."

  "Well, he's gone. Let's go."

  "I'll stay with him."

  The Reaper thought for a second, then squatted and pulled the boy’s arms from around his face. A good-looking boy maybe seven or eight years old, and very dirty.

  "What's your name?

  "Timmy."

  "Timmy, would Jaime want you to get away, or would he want you to die with him?"

  Slowly the tear-stained face rose and he looked at the Reaper."He told me to go, but I couldn't leave him."

  "Then do what he says and let's go."

  "He's not saying anything anymore. First, Mom, Dad, and now Jaime, I'm the only one left. He kept me safe, you know." He finally smiled, but the Reaper could see the boy's eyes were unfocused.

  "Focus boy. We need to get out of here."

  "I’ll die with my brother." The boy covered his face again with his arms.

  The Reaper gave up trying to reason with him. Standing, he reached over, gripped the collar of his heavy coat and lifted him to his feet.

  "Travis, finish that clip off and get in the hole. I'll lower the boy to you."

  "Roger that Reaper," replied Travis.

  Working quickly, Travis expended his last few rounds, loaded a fresh clip and dropped down into the hole. Quickly the Reaper lowered the kid after him, then followed without bothering to take down any more zombies. Travis had done a good job of creating a large pile of 'truly dead' dead.

  Pushing the child ahead of him, Travis kept going the way they’d been headed. The Reaper crawled back to grab their packs and soon caught up and heard them talking.

  "Quit pushing me, I'm going."

  "Then go faster, kid." That from Travis, and the Reaper could hear frustration in his voice. Neither of them knew if the zombies were clever enough to open a steel grate, but after what they had seen, nothing would surprise them.

  Soon they were peering over the edge into a huge cavernous room. Overhead the electrical cables ran up the wall then over and down to a large control panel below. Around the various machines what looked like kerosene heaters had been set up alongside cots. Various supplies, some still in boxes were piled everywhere, and around all these things were what appeared to be about a hundred children of varying ages. There was quiet laughter from down below and some music was playing low.

  "What the hell?" Travis muttered as he leaned over, while the Reaper looked over his shoulder.

  "More children," commented Jason.

  "No kidding. Why?"

  "Why else? They survived. Let's go." The Reaper slung his rifle over his back and thrust his legs out the opening, following the boy who had jumped down.

  *****

  Don ran to the Black Hawk and the six men he had brought with him. All were crouched near the helicopter in various positions of alertness and patient waiting. He had picked them because they were the best. All agency men from various branches of the military, they had skills that had not even been assigned names yet.

  "I have a job for you men. Follow me," he commanded.

  Quickly he led them to the west edge of the island, duck walking the last twenty yards until they were at the last bit of cover before being exposed.

  "There," he pointed. "When I give the signal I want all of you to shoot at them. Try to hit them."

  "Sir, that's much too far. Not with these M4s. Sure, if we had decent rifles, but ..." one man started to say before the look on Don's face quelled any further comment.

  "The point is to scare them. If you hit one of them, great. If not, that's OK also. I'm going to warm up the bird. When I give the signal, start firing." Don took off, duck walking again to thicker cover before rising then running to the helicopter. The men looked at each other.

  "This is stupid," said one.

  "Nobody said officers were smart," said another. They raised their rifles and waited.

  *****

  Ashley held her rifle ready while turning slowly. Her job was protection of their savior and his loved ones. Smiling to herself, she realized she was now part of his extended family, and she cherished it. The governor’s children and those of her new sister Jean were fishing at the end of the dock and actually catching fish. Behind her, she heard a shout, and turning quickly saw one of the soldiers from their escort approaching at a run. She knew he wouldn't harm her protected but was prepared just in case.

  "Commander!" he shouted as he approached.

  "Yes, PFC." The governor had risen, as had that black man, Master Sergeant Trask, and both had turned at his shout.

  "Sir, we found something you may want to take a look at. Dead bodies, Sir."

  "I've seen my share of dead bodies, son." The governor smiled kindly at the young solder and even Ashley smiled, for so had she, even though this was only the second day she had ever held a gun.

  "Sir, these are different. They're dressed like those that ambushed us back at the fuel farm. Looks like the zombies got them, Sir. We found high powered rifles, maybe sniper models, and explosives lying beside them."

  "How long dead?"

  "Maybe a day, Sir."

  Ashley slowly turned, scanning their surroundings as the private's last words penetrated. Something was not right. Something was very wrong. The angels in her head were buzzing and screaming danger. Her gaze flickered over the island near the center of the lake. It was a long way off, but for some reason she focused on it. Something flickered in the distance.

  "Alright, it sounds like we should take a look. Ashley, stay here with the kids please." The governor started to move past her and her free hand shot out, grabbing his arm.

  "Governor, there is danger. Get everyone under cover behind the boat shed please!" She raised her rifle and prepared to fire on the island. She knew the danger was coming from that direction. Then, she thought she saw
movement again. The island was so far away she might have been wrong, but knew she was not.

  *****

  I wasted no time after hearing Ashley's warning. If Ashley sensed danger, then I was getting the kids under cover fast. Emma was with the women, and looking over, I saw her in my mother's arms. Top was shouting for them to get under cover, as he snatched up his two boys, holding them before him, while using his body as a shield. My last glimpse was of the women and my dad running towards the soldiers coming out of the woods, then I was too busy to pay any more attention as I turned to the children that were left. I jumped to the end of the dock, grabbed the kids into a tight little group, and told them to run for shore. They took off fast with me right behind them. The solder had dropped back to cover us, and Ashley stepped around as we ran past while firing out over the lake towards the island. At the same moment I saw the water around us pucker up with tiny splashes. I needed no further urging as the private and I grabbed up the smallest kids who were lagging behind and ran faster, as we both recognized incoming rounds when we saw them. What the fuck now? I thought.

  We ducked around the edge of the boat shed as we hit the shoreline, while the rest of my security ran from the trees. All of them were firing in the direction of the island. I heard the telltale sound of a helicopter’s turbo engine firing up in the distance, and then the deeper, heavy thump as it lifted off. It was faint but obvious, and as I looked around the edge of the boathouse, I saw a dark shape rising over the island.

  "Son of a bitch! It's a helicopter. Looks like a Black Hawk!" I exclaimed to Darin. The younger kids were tearing up and Paul was clinging desperately to my thigh with his face buried. I stroked his head gently, then squatted to hug them all.

  "Got it Sir, I have Stingers coming up," he responded.

  "Shhh. It's OK. We're OK. Don't be afraid. I love you guys, and nothing will happen to you." A parent's promise we all make, and one I was determined to keep. Mom was there with little Emma who was crying, and I hugged them both tightly before turning back to Top to respond to what he’d said.

  "Take it down if possible. Nobody shoots at our kids!" I said savagely as he nodded back, an equally grim expression on his face.

  My troopers were all laying down, throwing up a barrage of fire at the island. I doubted it was doing any good but it sure was loud as hell, and I hollered at the kids to keep their ears covered. I was pissed off, and strode around the shed towards the dock. Top grabbed at my arm but I shook him off. Screw them! In the distance, I saw the helicopter had stopped at the front of the island facing us and was now coming in our direction.

  Holding my hand high overhead, I gave them the universal sign of a big ‘Fuck You’. I hope they saw it, but they turned immediately and banked around the trees adorning that tiny piece of earth in the center of the lake. As luck would have it, the Stinger crew ran up then with tubes prepared to fire. I waved them down, as obviously this Shadow Government knew we had Stingers by now. I knew it was those damn rogue assholes, for few else would have the balls to pull something like this now that we had shown our teeth. They were so dead to put the children in jeopardy!

  *****

  Don snarled as he looked through his binoculars and saw the lead figure raise his hand high overhead, middle finger extended. That had to be this commander of their group. This Jay Scarmon. It was unfortunate they could not do a flyby and solve the issue once and for all, but Don knew they had Stinger missiles. He was pissed at himself for tipping his hand to their surveillance of Newaygo but he just couldn't help himself. Seeing Jean there with this new commander had infuriated him.

  Slowly he turned from the open side door and surveyed the men they had just retrieved from the other side of the island where they had assembled. All were looking at him, most with expressions of disgust. He would show them. They were headed to the second hidden spot they had selected for this mission. He would coordinate his death squads from there.

  "I have another plan," he announced. None of the men dared groan out loud.

  *****

  Chapter 10

  DAY 10: 1600 ET SUNDAY NOVEMBER 13TH

  Johnny swore as he speared another guppy through the eye as it tried to climb over the wall before him, and almost lost his footing. The roof of the special needs bus was slick with the mucus and blood of too many guppies, along with the fresh blood of defenders who had been taken to the infirmary after becoming wounded. The ones who had been killed had been taken there also, as a temporary resting place. Johnny wasn't sure how much longer he'd have the strength to lift his sword. At the other end of the bus roof, Celeste fought; she was doing a much better job than he was. Even over the shouts, her hearing was sharp enough to catch the scrabbling sound the guppies hands or other body parts made as they heaved themselves over the wall’s concrete edges seeking live food.

  They had been fighting for hours, on first one side of the facility, then on another. It was obvious the guppies were looking for a weak spot in the center’s defenses, and frankly, that scared the Hel out of Johnny. The guppies were becoming too clever, for they were attacking where their bodies were piled highest against the wall. Johnny noticed that many were amazing climbers and he shuddered to think what tactic they would employ next against the defenders.

  Suddenly, there was a break in the action. As Johnny crept forward to get a better view, he saw the guppies were receding from their latest attack, then standing motionless. They continued to watch. The guppies were always watching the center’s defenders.

  As Johnny peered over the edge, he noticed that the sloping pile of guppy bodies almost reached the very top of the wall in several places. Damn, no wonder they were climbing over so fast now. The defenders did have a temporary solution though that would work for a bit. A few strong men here and there were inserting long steel poles between the bodies and the wall and levering them outward, forcing the bodies to cascade down the slope of limbs and body parts. It was not perfect, but at least it was better than doing nothing, for it dropped the level down to five or six feet high. They really needed a better solution, but nobody could think of one.

  Johnny heard movement beside him; looking over, he saw Celeste approaching, having already cleaned and sheathed her sword. She was moving along carefully while kicking body parts off the van top as her cautiously outstretched feet encountered them. Within moments, she was in his arms and resting her head against his chest while they held each other. Johnny was glad that no matter what happened in the next few days, he and Celeste at least had had this much time together. He smiled bitterly as he remembered this all beginning exactly ten days ago.

  *****

  DAY 1: 1600 ET SUNDAY NOVEMBER 13TH (Ten Days Previous)

  It was Friday, the third of November, and one fucked up day. Within minutes of hearing gunfire from the hospital’s direction, Johnny and Samson realized they had a major problem on their hands. Seeing those things shamble in and quickly begin tearing into and eating patients had been a terrifying revelation, and the impetus needed to do something quickly. While the staff and most of the patients were running around like headless chickens without a clue what to do, Johnny and Samson had quickly taken charge and initiated a defense.

  They’d gathered together a handful of staff and patients; even with all of them pitching in they had barely succeeded in closing the gate’s wrought iron framework before a rush of the invaders tried to enter. In the end, they had been forced to break the gate ends loose with one of the pickups and wedge it into place by brute force. They had also barricaded the smaller side and back entrances, even though there were few there yet.

  Now there were several dozen guppies out front, pushing against its metal surface. Johnny swore at whatever those things were as they pushed against the front gate again. Johnny had decided to call them guppies. He wasn't sure why, other than they looked like zombies from the movies, so why call them guppies. It was the type of chaos thinking Loki would have used.

  He glanced over at Samson, who was
his right hand man and best friend here at the center. Though a double amputee, he made it around a lot better than most of the patients. Right now, he was wearing his titanium prosthetics while using a galvanized fence post for support. It was with Samson's help, along with a few others, that Johnny had been able to get the decorative front gates closed. Now they were surveying the mob of what appeared to be undead on the other side of its bulwark.

  "What do you think Samson?"

  "Well, I think it will hold them for now, but it's not a permanent solution." Gunfire rang out further down the concrete block fence where they had pulled several cars up in order to see over its eight-foot height, and Samson immediately shouted, "Stop firing you idiots! We need to conserve ammunition. Use the poles and axes." The gunfire stopped and a "Sorry" floated back to them.

  That was another thing they were lucky about. Clear Haven Rehabilitation was veteran heavy. Many of them were here with PTSD, and/or were amputees. It was amazing how many of them had guns hidden in the trunks of their vehicles, although Samson's gun stash had been the largest. When the guppies had first entered and started eating people, Johnny and Samson had been right there fighting them off. Johnny had used his sword cane, and Samson? Well, Samson simply hopped off his wheel chair sans legs, then using his left hand and arm as a crutch had picked his wheelchair up with the right and started bashing them while hopping forward. Johnny had never seen anything like it, but Samson had quickly reduced the metal chair to component parts, then ripped a decorative lamppost out of the ground and continued onward using that. Within minutes, other vets and the more ambulatory disabled had joined them and they were finally successful in blocking the entrance off.

  "They learn anything else?" Samson was referring to the doctors, nurses, and some of the patients that were combing the TV and radio stations trying to find out what was going on.