The Last in Line

by Thom Erb

  * * *

  Elton observed his young leaders as they led the rest of the group down the dusty, dark hall and realized how his newfound wards had taken a fast and precarious leap from boys to men. It was a shame, he lamented and lifted his head as he took in a large breath and thought he caught a scent of something he didn’t like. But the smell of kerosene and oil overtook his senses, and he couldn’t be sure of what his nose was telling him. He didn’t bother mentioning his concerns to the others. No need to alarm them, he convinced himself. The first sound once again was the metal on metal screech of Capt. Al’s chair. The next sound echoing through the long hallway was the static of a radio.

  * * *

  “Hey, uh, corporal, where are ya, man?” Warren shouted, his gun raised and aimed down the dark hallway. Dex and Arnie flanked him and walked at the same slow, steady pace. They had grown up playing war, and they had all of the Vietnam tactics down. But this was a far stretch from Warren’s woods, and an imaginary enemy waiting on the ridge of pine trees was not the enemy they would be facing from now on.

  They came to an intersection. The hallways leading left and right, sat in cold darkness, while a metal door sat before them with blinking lights breaking through a smudged window

  Warren carefully opened the door and entered. The rest followed.

  The sound of their sneakered feet screeched on the linoleum floor of the hallway amid sporadic fluorescent lights flashing off the concrete walls and floor as the group progressed down the hall.

  Warren observed several empty offices lay off the right and left sides of the hallway. Black shadows cast an uneasy tension among the entire group.

  At the end of the hallway, there came a light from a ceiling fan. The droning static from a radio grew stronger the further they walked on. The walls were plastered with recruitment posters touting “Be All You Can Be!” Warren swallowed hard and continued down the hall towards another intersection. Dex walked with him, stride for stride.

  The clicking and intermittent flashes of the dim fluorescents sent sporadic shadows over the hallway. Warren and Dex kept the group moving forward. They could sense they all were tired. They, too, were exhausted. Warren knew they hadn’t slept much, and they hadn’t really talked or shared what had happened to each of them. There had been no time for idle chatter so they just kept marching on.

  “Hey, where the hell are you?” Warren shouted into the brightly lit room at the end of the hallway.

  As they approached the end of the hallway, a set of metal doors welcomed them. They were eerily similar to the ones back at the school, Warren thought and pushed the memory from his beleaguered mind. It opened up into a large room that resembled a high school gymnasium, only quadruple the size. The sight made Warren shake in remembrance. It was filled with green painted wooden tables and benches. Lit high above by several rows of fluorescent lights, the wide open space seemed to double as some kind of assembly room. The dim, yellow light barely illuminated the shadowy corners of the olive drab painted room. The hardwood floors were clean and waxed. The tables all sat empty. The rows of lights flickered in a syncopated pattern, one row after another would take turns flashing their bright fluorescent beams down onto the gym. Warren figured the generator wasn’t meant to power the entire building for a long period of time and maybe it was running low on fuel. He made a mental note to check it out. If they weren’t devoured by a sudden swarm of starving ghouls first.

  “Come on. This is too freakin' weird, man,” Dex said.

  “You're not kidding.” Warren shook.

  Maico ran around the large room and didn't make a sound.

  There was no sign of life. This is really messed up, Warren thought. Everything looked as it ought to be. There was no sign of struggle, no sign of a fight or even any remnants of mustering gear for war, nothing. The waning light flitting down from the metal rafters high above

  “It's clear, guys.” Warren waved Sam and the captain into the gym area. They all looked about the well-lit room with the same confusion. No signs of life. On the perimeters of the gym lay several doors. One large door looked as if it was the kitchen area, and a set of double metal doors shot down into the wood floor, barring anyone from entering. The rest must have been for offices.

  “Okay, dude, where the hell are ya?” Dex shouted. His voice bounced off the cinder-block walls and faded up into the skylights high above them.

  Suddenly, a voice came from the PA speakers above the assembly room.

  “Welcome all to the Rochester National Guard Armory. Please make yourselves comfortable. There is plenty of food and water in the mess hall and clean clothes and hot water in the locker room. You are safe now. Someone will be with you shortly. Again, welcome to the Armory.”

  “Okay, so, is it just me, or is anyone else expecting Rod Sterling to pop out at any second?” Warren asked, looking up at the speakers.

  “No, you're not alone, Master Warren.” Elton stepped closer to Warren and Sam.

  “I don't like this one bit, guys. You sure we can't get in the truck and go back home?” Arnie asked.

  “The horse has left the barn on that one, son. Sorry to say,” Capt. Al said.

  They all stood for a long while until Dex spoke up, “Well, no flesh-hounds have crawled out of the woodwork, no blood has poured down the walls, so I think it’s safe enough for at least a little breather, man. We all should get some chow and some sleep. What do you all think?” He sat down on one of the benches in a heap.

  “Good call, chum.” Elton found a seat across from Dex and sat down.

  Warren said, “Damn, it. We can't keep up like this, man, so yeah, we need some rest for sure.” He sat down next to Dex.

  “Put me over there by the end of the table near Ringo, there.” Capt. Al pointed at Dex with a half-smoked, unlit joint.

  “Oh, sure. You got it.” Sam rolled her eyes, and her words were drenched in sarcasm; Warren laughed. She gave him a flash of a smirk and pushed the DJ to his requested spot. “Hey, when the heck did I become your designated driver, huh?”

  Capt. Al put the joint between his lips and winked. “Guess you couldn't resist this old man's grooviness, eh?” His smoker's cough echoed inside the large room.

  “Yes, of course, that must be it.” Sam came to sit next to Warren.

  They all laughed.

  Maico continued to pace the large room, his nose working overtime.

  “Come here, buddy. It's okay. We're safe now,” Warren called and laughed as the ever-optimistic lab wagged his furry tail and defied Warren by running to Sam and licking her face.

  “Nice,” Warren said. “Traitor.”

  They all laughed again, and Warren joined them. It felt good to be able to take a breath for a moment.

  77.

  Nocturnal Fear

  The United States Armory,

  New York Army National Guard

  HQ 2nd BN 142ND Ava

  Main Street. Rochester, New York

  “Let us take them now, Master!” the black knight of Orcus whispered with a hiss in Lokhos Vorkhal’s ear. His crimson eyes seemed more like misty smoke than pupils. The shadows clung all around the Knights that surrounded the living creatures in the gym area of the Armory. As usual, the living were unaware of the existence of the Mortem Eques or death knights as they were called. While they filled volumes of fiction and miles of celluloid, the true reality of the undead and dead escaped this entire mortal realm. The dark Knights were ecstatic with that fact. The less the living believed in the otherworld and other fanciful ideas, the better. The dead and undead could run things from far behind the scenes with no fear of discovery. This ignorance had filled the dead of both persuasions with nothing but overwhelming contempt for the living. The fact that they couldn’t, and even more insulting, refused to believe in the existence of other realms, and beings from such places, made them detest the living. While the undead fed on the flesh and organs of the vile flesh walkers, the Death Knights hated the living’s very essence and
sought to destroy them at every possible turn. The biggest turn in history was about to start. It would begin with the Child of Light.

  “No,” Lokhos Vorkhal cut off his subordinate’s plea for action. He didn’t even look at him. His slim, ebony covered arm shot up in a motion to silence his followers. “We must wait for the appropriate time. We must not give away who we are and what we are here for,” the Lord Knight said. Frost curled with each of his words.

  “The flesh walkers have a Keeper among them, and we cannot take them all with us. It must be one of the young ones. Let us wait and observe how they handle our puppet, and then we can act.” He stared straight ahead, his glowing red eyes sharp as he sensed the vile celestial presence of a spawn of the Great Creator, but still wasn’t certain which fleshling was the Child of Light. “Once we strike and snatch the young fleshing, all gather to me, I’ll activate the Stones” The lesser warriors knew little of the Traverse Stones but knew enough that it would take them to the nearest High Priest crypt. From there, they could prepare and cast the more demanding and critical teleport spell back to their Master.

  “The Keeper will use his magic to heal and protect the fleshlings. This will deplete his energy and render him useless. No. We let him cast his measly spells, and then we will strike. Not before.”

  The subordinate knights knew better than to press his stern master and slunk back into the deeper shadows, and join his other dead brethren and wait for further orders.

  78.

  Take a Turn

  The United States Armory,

  New York Army National Guard

  HQ 2nd BN 142ND Ava

  Main Street. Rochester, New York

  “Hey, bro, if we’re gonna squat here for a piece, we really need to clear out the rest of this building, bro,” Capt. Al spoke after a few long moments of thick silence. “There might be some of those dead motherhuckers hiding in here.”

  “Capt. Al is right. I'm tired as all hell and would kill for a Diet Coke, but let's make sure nothing nasty is in here with us before we go getting all cozy,” Warren said and walked over to Maico, who was bathing Sam with a flurry of kisses.

  “Got it. Arnie, you come with me, and we'll head back out to the garage and double check the doors and see what we can find,” Dex said.

  Arnie hopped up from his spot next to Capt. Al and joined Dex. “Sounds good.”

  “Oh, yeah. If you can find the generator, can you check the gasoline situation? I’m thinking all this low-light crud ain’t good,” Warren asked. “I would do it, but you know I’m about as handy as a cub bear with boxing gloves when it comes to all that mechanical stuff.”

  “On it. If we're not back in ten minutes, call the National Guard,” Arnie said as they left the assembly room. “Oh, wait. Nope. Can't do that. There ain't any left.” He chuckled over his shoulder.

  Dex punched him in the arm as they went out of sight. “You're such a dick.”

  “Ouch. What the hell man?” Arnie giggled.

  Warren laughed as the two old friends bickering voices disappeared down the hallway.

  “Seems like you guys have been friends a long time?” Sam asked while wrestling with Maico's affections.

  Warren grew self-conscious of his smile and pushed it away. “Oh yeah, since forever,” he said. “Or at least 4th grade,”

  Sam pushed the big dog down, still scruffing up his ears. “That's cool. Never had many friends last that long.”

  Warren caught a distant, sad look in the girl's large brown eyes that she quickly changed and stood.

  “Let's check this place out. I'm pretty tired, and the sooner we get it locked down we can get some rest, right?” Sam’s voiced weighed heavy and tired.

  “Yeah, sure, of course,” Warren agreed. “Hey, Elton, you okay to hold down the fort with the good captain, here?”

  Capt. Al nodded and dug through one of the sacks hanging from his wheelchair. “Nuh huh. Don't worry about yours truly. I have some reconnoitering of my own to do, bro.”

  Elton seemed to have stepped from the shadows and laid a frail hand on Warren's arm. His oddly misshapen hat rested awkwardly on his wild hair. “Of course, Master Warren, but I beg you, do be careful. The obviously delayed absence of this supposed Corporal Moreno has my senses on high-alert.”

  Maico lifted his head and nuzzled Elton's leg.

  The old hound's action made Warren feel a bit better as Maico wasn't fond of too many people, and Warren always trusted the dog’s instincts more than his own.

  Warren reached out and patted Elton's shoulder. “I will. But I'm sure the guy has his duties with the radio and all that. He'll be down soon, just like he said.” He offered Elton a smile.

  “You're probably right, mate.” Elton adjusted his hat, gave Maico's head a tussle, and went back to sit next to Capt. Al, who still had both hands frantically looking through his bags.

  Hard rain pinged against the metal roof above and sounded like distant gunfire. Warren checked the shells in his Dad's shotgun and took a deep breath.

  “You ready?” he asked Sam.

  Sam brandished a pistol of her own and nodded. “I guess so.”

  “Cool. Let's do this,” Warren said and smacked his thigh. “Come on, old pain in the ass.”

  Maico swaggered between Warren and Sam, his long tongue lolling to one side.

  “Man's best friend...yeah, right,” Warren muttered.

  They all spent the better part of an hour going through the building, room by room, making sure nothing else was there. Maico helped with his amazing sniffer and was proud to help his two-legged friends secure the large building. Warren and Sam found few doors that were either locked or chained so they didn’t bother with those.

  Warren came to a steel exit door and cautiously opened it up and stepped out.

  “Are you sure you want to?” Sam asked.

  The small, fenced in area held a few picnic tables and ashtrays. A large olive-drab canvas covered the top of the small space.

  “Guess even soldiers needed a place to smoke,” Sam said from behind Warren.

  “Of course. They all smoked like fiends. Hell, the Army issued cigarettes to the troops in C-rations in World War II.” Warren walked to a table and looked around. “My Dad was in Korea and told me he didn't even start smoking until he joined the service.” The thought of his dad caused a tightness in his chest and a painful glitch in his throat. He quickly turned away from Sam.

  “My Abuelo smoked cigars, but not very often. Mostly on Christmas and Fourth of July.” Sam said, and Warren heard her step closer. “I don't think he wanted to expose us to the smoke.” Her words held a familiar heaviness to Warren, and he nodded.

  “Abuelo?” he asked.

  Sam said, “Oh, my grandfather.”

  “Sorry.” Warren admitted and turned around. “I'm lucky if I can speak English most days.” He felt a smile escape before he could stop it.

  Sam brushed her raven-black hair from her face and smiled with Warren. “Funny,” she said.

  “Yup. I'm a laugh riot.” Warren blushed...again.

  “So, I never thanked you guys for helping us out. It was getting pretty scary.” Sam sat down on the top of a picnic table.

  “No big deal, really,” Warren said.

  “Well, it kind of is a big deal. What in the world brought you to the parking garage? It's not like it's the safest or smartest place to go in a city filled with dead people, I mean, really,” Sam said.

  Warren knew the girl's question was more than fair. All the whirlwind of memories filled his mind. His parents, Andy, their red-eyes and demonic voices, and the whole crazy, Child of Light insanity. He wanted to share it with the girl but wasn't sure he should.

  The wind tore through the small space as if funneled by Old Man Winter himself, and Warren shivered.

  “It shouldn't be this damn cold. It's June, for crying out loud.” Warren knew he was changing the subject about as subtly as a sledgehammer to the forehead.

  Shivering,
Sam wrapped her arms around herself and nodded. “No, it shouldn't.” She looked at Warren. “Everything seems wrong. You know what I mean? Not the obvious horror movie going on out there. I'm not even talking about the bombs and the dead walking and all that. I mean the whole big picture.”

  Warren thought about that and said, “Yeah, I get what you're saying. It does all seem...planned.”

  Sam nodded. “Exactly. And you still didn't answer my question. Why did you guys come to the garage?”

  “It was Arnie. Well, really Capt. Al,” Warren said. “His broadcast kept me going after all the things back home. After the first few weeks, and after I had...” Warren let it go.

  The freezing, howling wind mixed with the cries of the undead for a long while.

  “I know,” Sam said. “It sucks.”

  Warren fought back tears. “Yup, it does.”

  The unseasonably cold temperatures did little to repress the massive stench of the rotting dead. The air was barely breathable, and it was getting worse. They glanced at each other and knew they wouldn’t be able to stay in the city that much longer. What would they do next? Where could they go? Warren didn't like the answers he was pondering and held his hand out toward the door.

  “After you, good lady,” he said.

  “Thank you, kind sir.” Sam smiled and went back into the Armory, and the metal doors clanked closed behind them.

  Somewhere in the distance, the crying of the undead answered the call and Warren knew the monsters were gathering.

  79.

  Broken, Beat and Scarred

  The United States Armory,

  Main Street.

  Rochester, New York

  The last rays of daylight fell through the skylights above the assembly room as Warren double checked all the entry door and came back to join Dex and Arnie, who were talking to Capt. Al.

  “All's clear, mon capitan.'” Dex bowed and set his gun down on the table. We did find the supply room and snagged a few first-aid kits. I think we should empty that sucker out before we go.