by Jay Zano
“This plan still sucks,” I protest. “We only have one elevator. What happens if you need it and we’re using it? Ever think about that?”
“You think too much,” she says with a smile. “We all get in together, I drop you guys off on floor seventy and take it down to the lobby. When I get off, I’ll send it up to you and make my way to the security room. I’ll hang out there for ten minutes and call it back. We both have ID cards for the elevator, so we’re good. Just don’t dilly dally.”
“There are a lot of variables that could go wrong here,” I reply. “It’s not that simple. Take a look at the lobby; there are hundreds of zombies down there. It’s a suicide mission.”
“I can handle myself! Besides, I’m not asking. Let’s go!” she calls as she walks over to the elevator.
“What you’re describing is exactly what goes wrong in every damn zombie movie ever written,” I shout. “The last thing we should do at this point is separate. If you’re going to the lobby, we’re all going to the lobby!”
“I’m in,” Fick says.
“Screw it!” Vegas chimes in.
I walk up to Zoe and gently lower the tip of her shotgun.
“We do this together,” I say, leaning in, and she nods in agreement. Vegas and I walk up to Zoe’s bag of weapons, while Zoe waits by the elevator and Fick continues to study the video feeds. We each grab a couple of handguns and preloaded magazines, and start shoving them into our waistlines. Having guns will be a lot more effective than swinging the paper cutter, but to be honest, I’ve grown to love the thing, so I tuck it into my belt strap. I notice that Vegas grabbed his table leg, too. Guns are efficient, but there’s something about defending yourself with something you can swing. We make our way to Zoe, who is holding the elevator open, allowing us to load in, and we’re off to the lobby.
I’m not feeling good about this. Zoe is a badass, and we’re better armed than we were before, but we certainly aren’t trained to handle these situations like she is, ammo or not. But hey, at least we have guns… Well, except Fickle. He doesn’t have anything. I guess he’s going to kill zombies with his personality. Idiot! This plan sucks!
The elevator ride seems to last forever, as we all stand silently watching the numbers count down. I suddenly feel very ill, trying to ready myself for whatever we’re about to encounter on the bottom floor. As the elevator slows, I quickly reach over and hold the ‘close door’ button, my heart beating a thousand miles a minute. I’ve grown accustomed to the blood and death, but after losing Sid, I’m overwhelmed by the fear of losing anyone else. I don’t think I could take it if anyone died, even Fickle.
“Hey, guys,” I murmur, “do we just go in guns blazing, or do we have a plan?”
Zoe says, “You guys ever play first-person shooter games, like Call of Duty?”
“Hell yeah, you’re looking at the ‘Bazinga Clan’, the highest ranked and most sought-after clan in COD!” I realize just how nerdy I sound and try to regroup. “I mean, it’s a pretty prestigious ranking in the gaming community, but we don’t take it seriously.”
“Impressive!” Zoe says. “I’m on the ‘NY Killer’ squad.”
“What? We’ve had some epic battles with that clan!”
Man, not only is this girl a badass in real life, but she’s also a gamer! I’m not sure she can get any better. I’m in love!
“Listen,” she says, “it’s easy. Just like COD; we’re going to do a compressed squad column. Stay in tight formation, about three feet apart. I’ll take point. Vegas, you’re on my left flank. Ty, you’re on my right. Fick, you bring up the rear!” Zoe reaches behind her back, pulls out a 9mm and hands it to Fickle. His eyes light up like an excited (but scared) little boy.
“Everyone hold their positions,” she continues. “Stay on my point, and for the love of god, don’t get trigger happy! Use your bullets wisely, and aim for the head. Anyone have any questions?”
“Will you marry me?” I blurt out. She smiles, hits the ‘open door’ button and gets in position.
“Gut up, boys! This is going to get a little hairy.”
The doors open and we step out in unison, like a professional kill squad. The lobby is crawling with zombies, but at this point, they’re dormant. They stumble around aimlessly, bouncing off the walls and furniture.
“No one make a sound,” Zoe whispers as we slowly make our way to the security room. We nod, quietly but efficiently gliding across the lobby floor. It’s located in almost a straight line from where we entered, but it’s about a football field away. If we can make it without being seen, things will turn out much better than the scenario that played out in my head on the elevator ride down. Fick is holding his gun close to his chest, but when he looks down, he notices he’s not livestreaming. He reaches down, struggling to turn on his camera, and drops his gun in the process. We all stop dead as the sound of metal hitting a marble floor ripples through the otherwise silent lobby. I look over at Fickle in utter disdain and then swivel back to my flank position. I eyeball Zoe, who has her shotgun at point and is still as a rock. After what seems to be forever, it looks like we’re in the clear. Some of the zombies pause for a second, but the lobby’s size means they only heard a distorted echo, and they don’t know where to look. Soon, they’re back to shuffling aimlessly around the lobby.
We start to back up slowly, and I glance back to see Fickle breathe a sigh of relief and reach down to get his gun. His fingers close around it, and as he picks it up, he inadvertently fires off a shot! The sound is deafening. We freeze again, hoping for a lucky break, but the echo is flatter, and every zombie spins in our direction. There’s a beat, and then they’re rushing towards us. There are probably a hundred of them, maybe more.
“Move!” Zoe exclaims, beginning to shoot off one careful shot after another “Head shots only!”
Vegas and I follow suit, targeting only the most immediate threats to our flanked zones, watching the blood splatter after each careful shot. Fick brings up the rear, spraying bullets all over the place like a madman. Not only is he not getting head shots, I’m pretty sure he’s not hitting anything. And just like that, he’s out of bullets, although he continues to rapid fire like he’s actually doing something. Useless!
“Holy shit, look!” says Frank, pointing to the main lobby camera. “There’s a group with guns making their way through the lobby!”
Derek runs over to look, then says, “That’s Zoe!” He pauses for a second. “Quick guys, weapons hot! Dylan, open the door. Let’s get out there and get our soldier.”
Frank, Dylan and Derek get into position at the door with weapons drawn. Dylan throws the doors open and they rush out.
“Reloading!” I scream as the hoard of zombies, tripping their way over the dead, make their way closer to our squad. I drop my clips, pull two new ones out of my waistband and reload in short order. I’m amazed just how awesome we are at this. I have some experience with guns, as Vegas and I have spent some time hanging out at the shooting range on the weekends. But man, I feel like John McClane in Die Hard, right now. Although we’re kicking ass, I’m also realistic; I see the writing is on the wall. This will be the place we all die. The bullet-to-zombie ratio just isn’t in our favor. I share a glance with Vegas, who’s reloading his own gun. Everything is in slow motion. I can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s calculated the odds and knows it’s only a matter of minutes until we succumb to the worst death imaginable: being eaten to death or, worse, getting bitten and becoming one of them. I stop shooting for a second and contemplate putting a bullet in my own head, instead. I have plenty of fight left in me, but I know what reality holds for me. At least I’ll go on my own terms and not have to feel the agony of being torn apart by these monsters. Still, I have my friends, and I need to do whatever it takes to protect them. Not now, I think to myself, ejecting a bullet from the chamber to grab it in mid-air like they do in the movies. Unfortunately, I miss, and the bullet actually bounces off my left eye. I take three swipes at it
before it clinks to the ground, then bend down to pick it up. I want to make sure I have one left, in case it comes to that, but for now, I need to help my friends.
“This way!” calls a voice from out of the darkness of approaching zombies. Suddenly, rapid fire is coming from a different direction. Light starts to appear, as we watch the heads of zombies explode right in front of us.
Zoe yells, “It’s Derek! Everyone, on me! Go, go, go!”
We tighten up our formation, and the light of the security doors leads the way. We’re now completely covered in blood, brains and who knows what else. Fick is completely on my back at this point, as he has nothing to protect himself. We hastily make our way to the security room, as a barrage of bullets slings past our ears. Making it to the security doors is sincerely surreal. We lunge our way in, and two of the security guards slam the door behind them.
“Damn, Zoe!” says Derek. “You’re one crazy woman!”
Zoe stands up with a slight grin on her face.
“Well, someone had to come save your sorry asses,” she says, and they share a smile that makes me think they’re more than just friends.
“Hey there, buddy,” I say, standing quickly. “Thanks for the crossfire. Name’s Tyson!”
Derek reaches out his hand, saying, “Hey there, Tyson, my name’s Derek, this is Dylan and Frank.”
I nod to each guy, giving my best man-squeeze on Derek’s hand. He doesn’t seem impressed, so I pull away. Derek is a tall, physically fit dude, with short blonde hair and blue eyes. I’m sure he gets a lot of ladies with his tough-guy swagger. Dylan also looks pretty fit; he could be Derek’s brother, for all I know. These aren’t the type of genes I’ve been blessed with. Frank, on the other hand, looks like he’s been here a while. He’s short and chubby, with a receding hairline and a mustache.
“This is Fickle and Vegas,” I say, “and of course you know Zoe.”
“Know her? Zoe and I go way, way back!”
I suddenly hate Derek.
“Really, that’s interesting. So, how far back? Like, high school sweethearts? Zoe, is this your boyfriend?”
With an innocent smile, Zoe looks over to me and says, “Derek and I went through boot camp together.”
“Oh, yes! We sure did,” Derek says with a wink.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I say in an agitated voice.
“It means nothing,” Zoe quips back. “Derek likes to screw with guys that seem interested in me. He’s like a father more than a boyfriend. He’s harmless, and no threat to you.”
“Oh, okay. Well, in that case, can I call you ‘Dad’?”
As I reach out to shake Derek’s hand again, he smirks but doesn’t seem too happy about my comment. That’s okay by me. The only thing worse than a beautiful woman who puts you in the friend zone is one who throws you into the dad zone. Ouch! Instead of laying it on too thick, I decide I should show a bit of gratitude to these guys. I have no doubt that we’d be dead right now if they hadn’t come out guns blazing.
“Seriously, guys, you saved us big time,” I say. “We were toast out there; we’d be goners if it wasn’t for you.”
Derek nods in appreciation and makes his way to Zoe.
“Zoe, what’s the deal? You know protocol. In the case of a level one lockdown, we’re supposed to hold our posts.”
“I know, Derek, but this didn’t happen by accident. Zook and Jacobs intentionally unleashed the biohazard to wipe out everyone in this building.”
“What? How… Why?”
“We’re still putting that together, but I believe he didn’t hear what he wanted to hear when the Pentagon visited him today, and he wanted to take out the people who knew about his agent.”
“That sounds crazy, even for someone as unstable as Zook!”
“I know, but I saw it with my own eyes. Jacobs orchestrated the release before getting on the elevator and leaving the building! We need to get out of here before they come in and napalm this whole building. He can’t get away with this, Derek!”
Derek paces around the room, trying to make sense of it all while also struggling with following protocol.
After a minute or two he says, “Okay, what’s the plan?”
“I thought you’d never ask!” I say with a smile. I turn to Fickle and point to his chest. “Fick, turn off the feed!” Fickle looks down and shuts off the feed, which I’m not even sure is working anymore. I turn my attention back to Derek, saying, ”I’m working with someone on the outside that will provide us with a helicopter ride off the roof. All we need to do is get our happy asses to the penthouse and wait for our ride.”
“Just like that?”
“Yep, just like that.”
“Zoe,” says Derek, “you know we aren’t supposed to leave. Now, I hear where you’re coming from on Zook. I’ve never trusted that self-serving, sick-old-pedophile-looking, stubby-toed, money-grubbing asshole, but protocol is protocol.”
“I know, Derek! You’re a great soldier, but that’s Zook’s protocol you’re following. He’s no soldier, he’s never served; he was born into money and telling people what to do. Bottom line, he has no honor. You do!”
Derek contemplates this for a while, sizing us up and sharing a few glances with his two boys. At this point, I’m not really sure this trip to the lobby was worth it.
“Okay, we’re in!” Derek exclaims. He turns and walks slowly in Zoe’s direction. “If what you say is true, Zoe, Zook needs to go down hard for this.”
I jump up and rush to Zoe’s side, putting my arm around her and saying, “Well, alright, cowboy. Let’s get the hell out of here!”
Zoe smiles slightly at my attempt at affection. It builds up my confidence, so I try to take my assertiveness to a new level.
“Okay, here’s the plan! First thing we nee—”
My voice is suddenly drowned out by the sound of guns being loaded and cocked.
I look over to Derek, who says, “We got it from here, ‘cowboy’. You just stay on our six.”
I have to be honest; I haven’t felt this secure since running the zombie gauntlet with Matt, although Matt was more entertaining. These guys are pros; we may get out of here yet!
CHAPTER 26
FALLING INTO PLACE
BRAXTON IS BACK in his tent, just hanging up the phone, when the MP brings in Chief Franklin.
“Well, hello Chief!” Braxton says with an air of confidence.
“Hello, Sergeant Major. Quite the crowd you have building out there.”
Braxton looks over to the huge crowd of people amassing outside the perimeter. The crowd is made up of all types of people, from construction workers to soccer moms, all trying to get a glimpse of what’s happening at Zook Towers.
“Yeah, seems like someone has them all riled up. Someone by the name of ‘Tyson’. Ever heard of him?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
As Franklin walks deeper into the tent, the MP excuses himself.
“Interesting,” says Braxton, taking a few steps closer to the chief. “Well, I just got off the phone with the one and only Fredrick J. Zook. He tells me he has it on good authority that this Tyson fellow is a domestic terrorist who intentionally released a biological weapon in the building, causing this whole mess.”
“And I bet you’re just dumb enough to believe him.”
“You tell me, Chief! I mean, Zook is respected by our military; many consider him a patriot. Meanwhile, this Tyson fellow is streaming video of him and his cohort of thugs running around the building, hacking up zombies and trying to pin it all on Zook.”
The chief stands up straight, takes a deep breath and says, “Why am I here, Sergeant Major?”
“I’m hoping you can help me. There are a lot of bystanders here. We don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Tell me what you know, and we can work together to save lives.”
“Sorry, Sergeant Major, can’t help you. I wish I could.”
“Well then you, Chief, will be solely responsible for the
deaths of more innocent citizens. If anyone breaches the quarantine area, I have the authority to napalm a three-block radius. Look outside, Chief!”
The chief slowly turns his head to see the mob of New Yorkers congregating around the area.
“Now,” says Braxton, “you don’t want to see any of those people hurt, I know you don’t. Tell me what you know. Let’s work together to end this!”
The chief’s shoulders slump in despair. The entire weight of the city’s safety now rests squarely upon them. He sighs and thinks for a moment.
“I’m not going to trade one American’s life for another,” he says, standing resolute. “This is New York City. We have each other’s backs here! You want to send me to prison, go ahead and take your chances, but I will be damned if I’m going to let you murder innocent Americans in the name of security! You, Sergeant Major, can go to hell!”
Braxton strides over with a scowl, drawing himself up into the chief’s face.
“Have it your way, Chief! The blood will be on your hands!” The two stand toe-to-toe in a deadlock stare, neither giving in to the other’s intimidation tactics. Eventually, Braxton whistles, and an MP walks in.
“Take Chief Franklin back to his tent. He won’t be going anywhere for a long, long time.”
Zook hangs up the phone, pulls a new cigar from his gold-plated humidor and lights it up. He reaches down to his glass of scotch, swirls the ice around, pulls out the cigar, blows out a puff and then takes a swig.
“Jacobs! Get your ass in here!”
Jacobs walks in with his hands behind his back.
“Yes, sir,” he says subordinately.
“We have a new plan. I’ve convinced our guy on the ground that Tyson is behind this whole thing. We need to drum up some evidence that points to him.”