by A. J. Sikes
They both nodded their thanks before Jason filled everyone in on the situation outside.
“The Army and Marines are pulling back to Manhattan Island. They’re supposed to blow the bridges—”
“What?” Rex shouted. “They can’t do that. My folks are down in Brooklyn.”
“If your families . . . If any of your families are in the city, they’re probably safe. The military’s been really good about evacuating affected areas.”
Meg wondered if Jason’s definition of really good matched hers. How many husbands and neighbors did the military think it was okay to lose before they downgraded really good to not so hot? Or just plain shitty?
“You’ve seen this?” Meg asked, feeling the burn of anger and frustration finally boiling over. “The evacuations, I mean. Because I have. I was evacuated from my home. They had to kill my husband first, though. He’d become a monster and killed a cop, and our neighbor and his wife. He would have killed me next if they hadn’t shot him.”
Neither Jason nor Rachel had anything to say. They, and everyone else, just stared back at Meg as she felt the hot tears flowing down her cheeks. Finally, Abeer stepped forward from the group.
“I am sorry for your husband,” Abeer said. “My husband’s name was Abdallah. The soldiers had to shoot him. I miss him.”
Meg nodded and wiped her tears. “Thank you, Abeer.”
“I don’t mean to ignore anyone’s suffering,” Rachel said. “But we have to secure this place. The front door is wide open, and those lockers aren’t going to hold them for more than a minute at best. I’ve seen them fight and move. They can climb—”
“I know!” Meg shouted and then put a hand over her mouth, remembering the monsters were attracted to sounds. She pulled in a sob, dropped her hand, and bowed her head. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Distant gunfire echoed through the city outside. It sounded like a popcorn maker out of control at first, but Meg quickly realized what it was.
“That’s the Army,” one of the survivors said. “It has to be. They’ll save us.”
“Don’t count on it,” Jason said. “They’re doing well, like I said. A lot of the city is already evacced to Manhattan, and they have checkpoints at the bridges.”
“So what’s the problem?” Rex asked.
Jason stared at him for a beat before replying. “I’ve seen them go right through a whole platoon of armed soldiers. I’m talking machine guns, rocket launchers. And still the monsters won. It isn’t pretty.”
That seemed to shake everyone up, and the room fell silent. Meg looked to Eric, who stayed at his post facing the door to the chief’s office with the hose around his waist.
“Eric, how many masks do we have?”
Before Eric could reply, Rex answered her. “About a dozen, counting the one they brought in.”
“We should keep at least one down here for whoever is on guard. The rest, put them on the children first. Then the parents. After that go by age, starting with the youngest.”
Rex looked ready to protest Meg’s order, but the other firefighters in the room all nodded their approval. Rex stood on shaky legs and waved for the survivors to follow him to the back of the bay. The older black woman led the way staying right behind Rex. She was followed by Abeer and her baby, then the mother and her daughter in pigtals right behind her. The others trailed behind in a staggering line.
Meg kept her voice low and asked Jason and Rachel, “Is it really that bad out there? What’s really going on? You haven’t told us the whole story.”
Jason shook his head. “No, we haven’t. We don’t really know. I said that about the military doing well because I could see those people needed some good news. But the truth is—”
“We’re fucked,” Rachel said, barely keeping her voice down. Some of the survivors looked their way and Meg let her face tell Rachel to cool it. The other woman seemed to get it. Rachel moved closer to the shutters and motioned for Meg and Jason to join her in looking out the windows. When they were all gathered at the far end of the floor, away from the survivors, Rachel continued, keeping her voice down this time.
“There is no coming back from this. Whatever it is, there is no cure, no treatment. Nothing. If you get attacked, you’re dead. And if you’re not dead, it doesn’t matter because you’re not human anymore either.”
Rachel’s words rattled Meg, and hard. She had to suck in a breath at the thought of what they were facing. The empty New York City street outside didn’t help her mood, either. The street should have been filled with bumper to bumper traffic, and people all over the sidewalks.
Meg should be looking for bicycle messengers whipping down the street between cars, and holding her breath every time a taxi or truck or van merged without checking for the cyclist. She’d seen it happen so many times, and almost every time the messenger pulled a fast dodge to avoid being crushed or run down. But Meg couldn’t forget the times when it hadn’t gone as well and she’d had to rush into the street to try and save a young person’s life.
“Look,” Rachel said, cutting in on Meg’s thoughts. “They’re still pretty thin around here. The outbreak started by JFK and moved through Queens and Brooklyn like a hurricane. The Army and Marines have mostly held them from spreading across the river.”
“But we’ve already seen them here,” Meg said.
“I know. I said ‘mostly’. But even if they clean out the ones that are here, they won’t be able to guarantee anything come nightfall. There’s a hardware store just up the street. It’s been looted already, but there’s plenty of lumber in the yard beside the store. I’m sure they have at least one hammer left and some nails. We need to barricade this place, and fast.”
“Won’t that make noise?” Eric asked. He must have come closer while Meg was busying herself with memories. She nodded at him and Eric let his attention settle on her and the others for a moment. Then he went back to watching the doorway.
“Everything makes noise,” Rachel said. “But, yeah, you’re right. We’ll have to work fast, and the sooner we start, the better we’ll be. I saw some of those monsters get caught in the sun when the clouds parted. They ran for the shadows. I think they’re sensitive to sunlight. We don’t have much of that left.”
Meg looked at the house clock on the wall above an old Yankees team photo. The clock read nearly half past two.
“Eric,” she said. “Can you hold the fort?”
“Don’t worry,” Jason said. “We’ll get the wood. You guys make sure we can get back inside. But first, let’s move that locker into the office to block the door.”
Meg almost had to smile at him. As big as Rex, and with the same look in his eye that said he saw her as a woman first and firefighter second. But he had good ideas, and wasn’t afraid of a little work.
With Rachel’s help, they got the locker repositioned by lifting up each end and setting it down on a fire blanket. Then they pulled the blankets to shift the bulky metal case around without making as much noise as they had the first time Meg and Rex had moved it. When they had the front door mostly blocked with the locker, Jason and Rachel each put on a mask. Meg asked them to get more from the engine if it seemed clear.
“If you think it’s safe to try,” she said, already feeling guilty for sending them out on their own.
Meg and Eric opened the shutter door enough for Jason and Rachel to slip under it, then closed it again fast. Then they waited. Eric hoisted the hose again and paced between the doorway to the chief’s office and the front of the floor by the shutters. Meg looked at Rex and the survivors at the back of the floor and thought about how many lives she had already failed to save that day.
Long Island City, Queens
Jed tried his best not to just fall the fuck out as they ran, but his breath came shorter and shorter.
“Sergeant Townsend,” he said.
“Yeah.”
The NCO was short on breath. They’d been running at a good pace down Skillman Avenue, passing empty row h
ouses, storefronts, industrial buildings. Cars on the sidewalk sat there like nobody was coming back for them. An alarm beeped and whined from a block or so over. Somewhere a car door slammed shut and an engine turned over. But there was nobody around on the street. No shouting, no laughter. It was the only time in his life Jed had actually heard New York City without hearing the people in it.
“Yo, Welch. You got something?”
“Railyards, Sergeant. Comin’ up. Cross on . . . Honeywell.”
“I know, Welch. Eyes out. Keep quiet.”
Jed ignored the burn in his cheeks. He’d told Townsend about Honeywell because he knew the streets around here and figured he would help. Save them some time. They could cross on 39th or even at 43rd. Hell, they were about there now anyway. But those streets would take them up and away from the river.
Deeper into the neighborhoods. More places for them to hide. More places for me to die.
So far they’d only seen one of the things, and Rainey bagged it with a head shot from across the street. They’d had a clear run since then, but Jed could still hear gunfire not too far off, and mixed in with the sounds of big engines moving fast. If they could find a ride.
“We should boost the next car.”
“You fuckin’ crazy, Welch?” Rainey said.
Jed was about done taking shit and felt like it was time to dish a little back. Sergeant Townsend stopped him, though. “Y’all shut it down.”
Jed nodded and went back to watching the rooftops as they ran. He wanted to give Rainey a look, but Sergeant Townsend was between them, and the tone of his voice just then told Jed not to fuck around even a little bit.
They ran on and Jed kept watch on the neighborhood. They passed some high rise apartments, and none of these had broken windows. A few storefronts did, and one or two of the row houses looked like they’d been raided. It wasn’t too much farther to Honeywell, and then they’d just have to get out to the checkpoint at Queensbridge.
Ain’t that far. I can do it. C’mon Jed, don’t be a punk.
Right before 39th, in front of a big industrial building, Jed felt his side burn and then stab. Breathing got hard enough that he had to fall back a pace from the other two. He made it another block or so, but Jed was out of gas, and he knew it. His legs burned, the stitch in his side felt like a knife, and the damn LBE was rubbing like hell against his hips.
“Sergeant,” he said. Then Jed was watching the street come up to meet his face. He got one hand out in time, and set the butt of his weapon on the street before his knees cracked down.
“The fuck?” Sergeant Townsend shouted. Jed struggled to one knee, ready to rise again. The NCO and Rainey slowed their pace and turned back to him.
“You comin’, Welch?” the NCO asked.
They were still stepping backwards, and Rainey had his weapon up.
“I’m not bit, man,” Jed said. “Just—Fuck, I can’t keep up. I can’t . . ..”
He thought they would leave him there. They weren’t coming back for him, and Rainey was about to turn and run. Jed could tell.
Sergeant Townsend brought his weapon up and scanned the area. They were at the edge of the railyards now, just past 39th where Skillman jogged around the neighborhood. Some old burned up train cars sat on the tracks nearest them.
“Yo, Welch,” Sergeant Townsend said, with that note in his voice that only an NCO could get.
They’re gonna leave me behind.
“Sergeant, I—”
The roar of a truck motor put them all on alert. It was coming up a neighborhood street somewhere to their left. Rainey kept his weapon up, and Jed watched him trade a look with Sergeant Townsend. The NCO gave a nod and Rainey moved in a crouch; he followed Skillman to the mouth of the next street that went into the neighborhood. Sergeant Townsend kept watching the rooftops in between flashing a look at Jed.
He’s waiting for me! Gotta do this. C’mon Jed. C’mon!
Jed got up on his feet, still shaky and still thinking the other guys were going to leave him behind. He got to his feet just as Rainey rushed back into the street with a grin on his face.
“It’s them, Sergeant. The evac convoy.”
“Hell yeah. Looks like you get that ride after all, Welch. C’mon, Marine. Keep up.”
Jed coughed once, swallowed hard, and moved out after the other two Marines.
Might be back in the suck. But at least I’m alive.
☣
The convoy was a line of three school buses led by a truck like the one Jed had been in before. He could make out the profile of a Hummer at the back. Looked like it had a heavy gun up top, but he couldn’t be sure.
Inside the buses were crowds of scared civilians. They all had their faces up to the windows, looking everywhere except at each other. It was kids with their moms and dads mostly, but a few folks who looked like they were loners, or just old people who didn’t have nobody else to come with them.
The truck up front had about a squad inside it. Weapons bristled out like spines, but they only had enough guys to cover the front and a little bit on both sides. Jed spotted a SAW up at the front. Everyone else up there had an M16.
Someone up there, probably another NCO, lifted a hand and waved at Sergeant Townsend. He double-timed it to the truck cab. The driver slowed down enough for him to hop on so he could talk to whoever was inside. After a few words went back and forth, the truck came to a stop and the buses and Hummer pulled up.
Everyone inside the buses started freaking out and Jed heard the screams of fear coming through the glass. Open palms slapped on he glass as the people hollered.
“Why are we stopped? Are they out there?”
“We have to go!”
Sergeant Townsend waved Rainey and Jed over and told them to get into the truck.
“Checkpoint’s down. We’re crossing with them. Mount up and take a zone of fire.”
“Who are they?” Jed asked as they approached the truck.
“Army Civil Affairs. Sergeant Kuhn up front. You with them, Welch?”
Jed didn’t remember anybody named Kuhn, but he double-checked to be sure. He didn’t see any familiar faces. Jed hoped and prayed nobody in the truck had seen him take off back on the boulevard.
None of the other four guys gave him any notice, though. They were all too busy watching the neighborhood. Jed let out a sigh he didn’t know he’d been holding. But when him and Rainey got up on the tailgate, Jed’s heart sank.
Sergeant Boon was in the bed of the truck, lying on a stretcher with his hands bandaged up like they’d been torn to shit. He had a bloody stain running down both arms. Jed covered a zone of fire on the left side next to one of the CA guys. Rainey came up after Jed, putting him in the middle. Sergeant Townsend went to the rear of the truck. With the two CA guys on the other side, and the NCO and SAW gunner up front, they had a full perimeter now. The truck moved out and the buses followed.
Jed thought about Boon and hoped he hadn’t spotted him. A second later his gut turned over and he thought he might spew over the side of the truck.
“That you, Hardcore Welch? The fuck you doing here?”
Jed risked a quick glance over his shoulder before going back to watching the neighborhood. “Sergeant Boon? You—They get you?” he asked over his shoulder.
“The fuck’s it look like, Hardcore? I asked you why you’re here.”
The other guys couldn’t help but hear their conversation, and Jed knew he had about two seconds to make it all go right or Boon would fuck him.
“I’m with them, Sergeant,” he said, nodding in Rainey and Sergeant Townsend’s direction.
“Your old unit,” Sergeant Boon said, and he didn’t make any effort to hide his doubt about Jed.
Upper East Side, Manhattan
Meg held the firehose ready while Eric and Rex helped haul two loaded flatbed carts into the app floor. Rachel and Jason had piled the carts with a stack of two by four lumber, some hammers and a box of nails, and a few sheets of thick plyw
ood. Jason shook his head as they closed the shutters and sealed themselves in again.
“It’s not as much as we need. We couldn’t spare time to check the engine for more masks, either. If we make it through the night, we’ll try again in the morning.”
Meg gave the hose back to Eric and went to help Jason. Rachel and Rex already had a plywood panel over the doorway to the chief’s office and were hammering it in place. Meg and Jason each used a spare boot to carry their hammers and a few handfuls of nails. The punk girl offered to help carry the wood, and so did the mother of the little girl with pigtails.
“Momma will be right back, baby girl. You wait here with Mrs. Cannady, okay? I’ll be right back.”
The girl sat up close to the older black woman who’d asked about getting medicine.
“You’re gonna be fine,” Mrs. Cannady said, putting an arm around the little girl’s shoulders. “Go ahead, Dayone. Help them keep us safe.”
Meg looked at the woman and little girl, and she tried to smile. They both did their best to smile back, and Mrs. Cannady nodded.
The little girl’s mother, Dayone, went to the carts and hoisted an armful of 2x4 lumber. Meg joined her and picked up the other end of the boards. When they had the load balanced, they followed the punk girl and Jason up the stairs.
“Thanks for the help,” Jason said when they got to the top. The punk girl just nodded and went back downstairs. Dayone offered to help.
“I can go get more wood. Or some nails in case you run out.”
“You should rest, conserve your energy. Your daughter needs you,” Jason said before Meg could reply. She added her own thoughts as Dayone turned to go.
“Thank you, Dayone. If we need anything, I’ll come get you.”
The woman gave a nervous wave and went back downstairs.
“We shouldn’t ignore their offers, Jason. We might be in better shape physically than most of them, but we need to conserve our energy.”
“They’re exhausted, and even if they’re aren’t, I don’t think we can expect much out of them.”