by C. Dulaney
“I’m sorry, Kase. I messed up bad, I’m so sorry.” Then came the tears again. Not as heavy and loud as before, but they still ran freely.
I looked back at the other two. “You got that?” I asked, jerking my head in the direction of the runners.
They nodded solemnly and stepped outside the platform, where they resumed their cussing and yelling, keeping the runners gathered in close at the bottom of the wall. Meanwhile I focused on Jake, scooting up between his bent legs and holding him tightly. I let him mourn and grieve, cry and swear, keeping him close to me and riding out the storm with him. Part of my mind, however, was focused on something else entirely.
How the hell are we getting out of this one?
* * *
“I doubt that would work,” Michael said into his walkie.
Mia sat across from him inside the platform, picking absentmindedly at the hem of her coat. She watched Michael with disinterest; it was taking every ounce of willpower she had to block out the zombies. She kept thoughts of Nancy, Jake, and Kasey out of her mind. Those would only distract her. If she became distracted, the murderous screams of the runners would drive her insane. They’d been listening to it for hours, a steady and merciless song of death. They had been successful in keeping the runners contained to the ends of the walls, taking shifts outside the platform, making themselves seen and heard so the collective attention of the swarm would not wander. Abby and Todd were the current distracters.
“We don’t have much of a choice, Mikey,” John answered over the radio.
Michael ran a hand through his hair. “If we try making a run for it, how far do you think we’ll get before those bastards realize we’re not up here anymore? And how the hell do you propose we get off this godforsaken wall anyways?”
“Well, we tie our boot strings together, smartass. Don’t give me shit about the wall. Do I need to remind you whose idea it was to make it so fucking tall?”
“Hey, you agreed! We both decided better safe than sorry, remember?” Michael lowered the walkie and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. They’d had no water for most of the day and it was two hours after sunset. “Alright, so say we got off the wall. Jump off the end of the wall and try swimming away. What then?”
Silence.
“Listen, John,” Michael said, his voice lowering. “I want to get the hell out of here too. But if we get off this wall, they will run us down.”
Mia tipped her head back against the wall behind her and closed her eyes. She considered tossing a few people over the ledge, to buy the rest of them some time. This made her chuckle, drawing a strange look from Michael.
“So what do you want to do, Michael? Stay here, die of dehydration? Or better yet, wait for those fuckin’ runners to figure out there’s an easy way up here, then what? Fight them off with our rifles? Swing them around like clubs?” John’s voice was angry, bursting out of the walkie with a crackling edge.
“John.”
Silence.
Michael’s voice had picked up that military-authoritative tone again. It made Mia’s eyes snap open. Just what was his plan? They only had two choices: stay and die, or run and die. After giving John enough time to get himself under control, Michael continued.
“We’re staying right where we are. A solution will present itself. Waters might even show up. Either way, for the time being, we wait. Is that understood?”
Silence.
“John, is that understood?”
“Yeah, understood.” John’s voice had dropped from anger to resignation.
Everyone knew who the boss was, though Mia was betting that if Kasey was on this side of the wall, she’d be giving Michael a run for his money. Damnit, don’t think about her, she thought. Michael dropped the walkie into his lap and covered his face with both hands.
“Shit,” he whispered and let his head fall back against the wall. After a long moment, Mia cleared her throat. Michael opened his eyes and looked in her direction.
“We’re screwed, aren’t we?” she asked.
“Oh yeah, we’re completely screwed.”
* * *
“Chief Collins, I want that bird ready to fly in fifteen minutes!” Captain Waters shouted as he burst through the door of the communications center.
Collins snapped off a salute. “On it, Sir.” Then began barking his own orders to his flight crew.
The Guard had refitted Warden Harvel’s office and surrounding rooms with communications equipment shortly after arriving at the prison. From there they could track most radio frequencies, receive orders from the Command Center downstate, and stay in constant contact with all the survivors’ camps they’d been able to find via scouting missions and aerial reconnaissance.
“Dunkard, you and Cumbridge get over to the garage. Make sure Acklin has those vehicles ready to move when the chopper is in the air!” he instructed, crossing the yard.
The two privates saluted him and took off at a run toward the old garage, where a squad of men was preparing to head over to the Winchester. Waters ripped the cap off his graying head and ran a hand through his thinning hair. He headed straight to his personal quarters in the old dormitory, cursing with each step.
How had things gone so bad so quickly? He ran up the steps, taking two at a time. They’d been hit on two fronts almost two days before; Zacks on the outside and Zacks on the inside. Why had this happened? Following orders, that’s why. As Waters jerked on his gear and grabbed his weapons, he decided that the time for following the Command Center’s orders was over. What were they going to do, court martial him? He snorted a chuckle and slammed his door shut behind him, pulled his cap on tightly, and jogged back down the stairs.
The CC had ordered all survivors to be recovered. Infected or not. Waters was to say and do whatever it happened to take to convince the locals to aid and assist. Waters had never questioned those orders, he had simply followed them. And his men? They had carried out his orders, to the letter. He knew none of the men had been happy about it. How could they be? Even he wasn’t. They’d brought in so many infected to transfer to the CC, that he’d had to assign a group to retrofit a section of the prison to hold them, once the infected had completely turned. These days, simply being in the same vicinity as a Zack went against every fiber of his being, and his men’s as well. But they had their orders.
Why the CC wanted the infected and the Zacks, he didn’t know. Here was the kicker: not all the transferees were infected. On any given transfer, roughly half the shipment had been clean. Living, breathing, uninfected people; everyone the Winchester clan had rescued. Sure, Waters had his theories. Until now, he had never questioned his duties. What ultimately changed his way of thinking happened two nights ago.
A horde of runners, hundreds of bodies strong, had laid siege to the outer fence. Even reinforced, it hadn’t stood a chance. After thirty minutes, the fence had been trampled down. The inner fence had suffered the same fate twenty minutes after that. Once the Zacks had surrounded the prison, as Waters and his men were getting into position to attack, the unthinkable happened: the Zacks inside the holding cell got out. It couldn’t have been an unlucky coincidence. Someone had let them out. He currently had a few of his best men looking into it.
In the resulting chaos, thirty-seven men and women died.
Waters had seen to it personally that his soldiers would stay dead.
What was left had fought for almost two days to reclaim the prison. In the end they had succeeded, putting down all Zacks inside the prison walls, including the infected individuals who hadn’t turned yet, and they’d thinned the horde outside to a more manageable level. Waters had received word halfway through the battle from the communications room that an S.O.S. had come in from the Winchester. His com officer had been killed, however, before a message could be relayed to Michael.
There’s still time, Waters hoped as he made his way to the small landing pad in the center of the yard. Still time to save the Winchester group, who had been working
so hard for him during the past several months. Maybe, just maybe, there would be time to redeem himself, to reverse whatever evils he had unknowingly carried out for the CC.
* * *
“That’s it. Take off your coats.”
I’d been pacing back and forth inside the platform, going crazy listening to the deadheads down below. John and Jonah were just outside, keeping the runners’ attention on them, and Jake was reclined back against the wall of the platform. He looked up at me and drew his eyebrows together.
“Why?”
“Yeah, why, Kasey?” John put one foot inside the platform to repeat Jake’s question.
“Because we’re getting off this wall. Take ‘em off and tie the sleeves together at the ends.” I stripped my own jacket off and was reaching for Jake’s. By this time Jonah had joined the other two in throwing me stunned looks.
“Well? Are you going to stand there and tell me you’re willing to wait on a rescue that isn’t coming? You wanna die of thirst up here?” My voice was strong and clear, carrying through the platform even over the zombies’ screeches.
“But Michael said—”
“I know what Michael said. And I’m saying we’re getting off this wall. So let’s have ‘em,” I interrupted John and walked over to him, hand out. He looked at Jonah, then at Jake, before finally removing his denim jacket.
“No way! Kasey, no!” Jake was up and on his feet as John began tying my coat sleeve to his.
“Yes, Jake,” I answered, motioning with my hands for Jonah to move faster. “Once I’m down, I’ve got maybe sixty seconds, ninety if I’m lucky, to make it to those boats.” I grabbed a loose sleeve from John and tied Jonah’s to it. “I jump in, start it up, and head out into the middle of the river. I’ll draw them away and hopefully into the water.”
“You’re insane, you know that?!” Jake yelled. I turned to him, three coats tied together and balled up in John’s arms, and stared him down.
“You’re damn right I am. Coat, now.” I extended my hand and waited him out.
I knew it wouldn’t take long. Then again, he had just lost his grandma. I was about to find out if this was the old Jake, or the new version, the one who had thrown a man to his death without a second’s thought. While we played that game, John was on the radio with Michael, relaying the hasty plan I had just pulled out of my ass.
“She’s gonna do WHAT?!” was the reply.
John stepped over to the ledge to look down. “Yeah, Mike, she’s doing it. Twenty foot drop, but with our coats tied together, that should take her most of the way down. What we gotta do is buy her the time she needs to get to those boats. Now stop your fussing and get ready to do some screaming on my signal.”
“What’s the signal?” Jonah asked quietly next to John’s shoulder. John just shrugged and made an odd face.
“Damnit, Kase,” Jake growled and jerked his coat off. I handed it to John.
“Okay, guys, listen up. You’re gonna have to relay all this once I’m on the move, so pay attention. When I hit the ground, I’m gonna hit it runnin’. You need to pull these runners back a bit, keep them distracted, let me get to the boat.”
The three of them stood around me, arms crossed and faces red, veins throbbing in their necks.
“Now if this works, and I can draw them all into the river, all you need to do is haul ass down the staircase and to the house. That back door is already sealed up, but you’ll need to reinforce the front somehow. I don’t care how or in what order you do it, but get some shooters on the roof with enough ammo to waste these bastards. Every one of them. ‘Cause when I come back in to shore, I’ll be coming in hard. Got it?”
My own heart was racing with the thought of what I was about to do. That’s what it had come down to: do something incredibly stupid and quite possibly die, or sit here being incredibly stupid and definitely die. I was willing to take my chances.
Jonah rubbed his chin. “So, what you’re sayin’ is, don’t nail up the front door until you’re back inside?”
I laughed. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” I turned to John and motioned to the ledge and the coat-rope in his arms. “John, can you hold this?”
He cocked an eyebrow at it, then at me and shrugged. “Only one way to find out I suppose.” He stepped over and threw the coat-rope over the side. “Oh yeah, plenty of length.”
“I got a feelin’ that’s not gonna be her problem,” Jake finally spoke up, staring at me with a hard look, his face tipped down slightly. John handed the walkie to Jonah and told him to take care of informing Michael. I stepped up to Jake and squeezed his upper arms.
“We’ve done worse. We’ve gotten through worse. You just keep them off my ass for a few seconds, alright?” He shook his head but hugged me tightly, giving me a pat on my back before striding out along the wall.
“Hey! Yeah you, ya worthless meatsacks! Come on! Come and get it, ya filthy bastards!”
Jake waved his arms over his head and stopped halfway out between the right gate tower and the platform I was getting ready to descend from. Jonah said a quick few words to Michael over the radio, walking out to join Jake. I could only imagine what Mia was thinking, and saying, over on her side. I watched the group underneath us begin shifting towards Jonah and Jake.
“Don’t drop me,” I said to John, wiping my hands against my thighs and sitting on the ledge. I noticed I’d lost my gloves somewhere and my knuckles were scuffed up. Nothing serious, but the scratches were still fresh.
“I can promise I’ll try not to drop you.”
I grabbed the coat tightly in my hands and swung my other leg over. John’s voice stopped me before I could begin scaling the wall.
“Soon as you hit the ground, Kasey, you run. Don’t stop for nothing, you hear me?”
I smiled, one of those crooked grins. “Sure thing, big man. See you on the inside.” I quickly and quite clumsily began scaling down, hand over hand, the toes of my boots scraping the concrete. My heart was thumping so hard I couldn’t hear myself breathe, until I realized I was holding my breath as tightly as my fingers gripped the pseudo-rope.
“Stay calm, stay calm,” I repeated to myself.
Halfway down the wall.
Ten more feet to go.
I could still hear Jonah and Jake yelling and shouting to the deadheads. I looked up and could tell my weight was putting a strain on John. The lower I went, the harder it was on him. My arms as well; they were on fire from exertion. I wondered if Michael and Mia had been able to draw the runners from the end of that side, but quickly dismissed it from my mind.
“Too late now. What’s done is done.”
There were two extra boats at the dock besides the one Nancy had been loading. I would aim for one of those two. If the motor wouldn’t start on the first pull or two, then I’d hop to the next and try it. It all depended on how well the others were doing on distracting the deadheads. If worse came to worse, I’d start swimming. Suicide, maybe. That would also depend on how much of a head start I had on the runners. Although I hadn’t seen it, I didn’t believe the runners could swim. They could walk underwater just fine. They’d be slower, and less mobile, but they didn’t need to breathe. I’d have to make my way to deeper water, stay away from the shallows.
Five more feet.
“Hell with it.”
I let go of the coat-rope, dropped the last five feet or so, and almost went back on my ass. I glanced up and saw John was off balance too; the sudden lack of weight holding him had sent him out of view with his arms flailing.
No time.
I started off at a hard run, my arms pumping and my eyes straight ahead, no longer paying attention to the yelling on top of the wall, or the screaming coming from the ground. I was only a few feet from the end of the wall, and tore past it seconds after dropping to the ground.
Now we’ll see if this works.
I sprinted in a straight line directly to the boats without slowing or turning my head to the right. It wouldn�
��t have made a difference if I had looked; if the runners were after me, I was already dead. When I got to Nancy’s remains, I didn’t hesitate. I jumped and sailed over them, my boots hitting the soft ground on the other side and my legs crying out in protest. To be honest, the only reason I knew it was even Nancy lying there was because my eyes caught a hint of gray hair in the moonlight. The rest of her, the very little that was left, had been stripped to the bone.
Keep moving.
I jumped up into the middle boat. That was the first chance I’d had since tearing across the yard to get a look behind me, since the motor was on the back of the boat and I had to turn around to yank the pull cord. A few runners on both sides had noticed me and were beginning to jog away from the main groups. It appeared the ones up on the wall had led the deadheads too close to the staircase for comfort. Then I realized that in a few seconds, it wouldn’t matter.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I panted, watching more and more of the runners break off from the main group and start running my way. I yanked hard on the pull cord.
Nothing.
“COME ON!” I screamed, yanking once more. That time the motor caught and roared to life. I turned my screams back to the runners, using the handle on the motor to steer the boat away from shore.
“Hey assholes! That’s right, over here! Hungry?! Come and get me!”
I kept yelling at them, random words and occasional swearing, trolling slowly out into the water, giving them plenty of time to catch up. I was far enough out that they couldn’t grab me, not so far that they might lose interest. I grinned when I saw the groups were converging behind the house and clumping together into one huge mob.
My eyes slid from the swarm of runners (whose front ranks were splashing into the water), to my friends on the wall. Seconds later, they disappeared, the large house blocking my view of them.