by Tim Sullivan
This was no time to be thinking about his problems with Jo. They were already approaching the park's edge, along the cracked, weed-infested pavement of the East River Drive.
"Stay in the trees," he said.
They did as he told them, eleven women and eight men carrying the firearms they had found in Victor's stash, against perhaps seventy to one hundred of the infected. At least, that was the approximate number the one time he had seen the horde guarding the armory. God only knew how many there would be today.
During their training sessions, held about a mile from the hideout, Alex had welcomed anyone who had come to them. The shots had frightened the faint hearted, and only those who were ready to come in from the cold found enough courage to approach the clearing where Alex's guerrillas had been shooting at makeshift targets. Few colloids had been sighted since Elvin had returned that night. Perhaps they sensed that these people were not easy prey.
Most of the Spring Garden Street Bridge still stood by the ruined art museum. A car couldn't have driven across, but who had fuel to run a car? It was easy enough to walk, in spite of the twisted girders rising up like a steel flower on the north side of the bridge. The paved walk on the south side was intact. They were sitting ducks up here, but with all this firepower, Alex wasn't particularly worried about coming out into the open. The colloids weren't expecting a mass of people to emerge from the park on a military mission.
The wind slapped at them as they made their way single file across the bridge. They didn't see anything moving, but Alex was still relieved when they got to the other side.
Alex stood and watched his "platoon" file past. He wondered if some of these poor, benighted souls even knew where they were going. He had entrusted the most stable among them with their eleven guns, though even some of these he was none too sure of. Still, when the shooting started, people had a way of surprising you. The most unlikely souls often performed heroically in combat. And his soldiers had been living under combat conditions for over three years, in a very real sense.
Fifteen or twenty minutes passed before they drew up in sight of the armory.
"Some of my buddies used to spend some time in there," Flash said. "The armory was loaded for bear three years ago, which is probably why this is the only few blocks standing in West Philly anymore. Dumb fucks blew the city to bits, trying to stop a virus from spreading."
Alex remembered. His faith in the American military mind had not been restored by the Army's actions during the colloid war. The regular Army had taken the armory out of the National Guard's hands, creating a haven for themselves and killing an ungodly number of civilians with their seemingly random rocket fire.
"Let's do it," Flash said, looking at Alex for the command.
"Keep down," Alex said, just loud enough for all his people to hear. They did as they were instructed, all of them realizing that their lives were at stake. They were depending on Alex to see them through this thing, and he didn't intend to let them down.
"Flash, see if you can get a little closer. See how many are down there."
Flash scrambled off the broken sidewalk, and started moving toward the smashed rowhouses along the way to the armory.
"If you think there's a chance you'll be seen, just come back," Alex said.
Flash nodded, and disappeared behind a crumbling brick wall. They waited in silence for his return. Once, Alex stole a glance at Jo. He sensed that she knew he was looking at her, but she didn't even glance back. He hoped that neither of them died today. He didn't want to leave her like this.
Ten minutes later, Flash was back. He was out of breath, but he managed to say between puffs: "Must be a couple hundred infected down there."
"So their numbers have increased." Were they expecting an attack? Alex thought better of voicing that dark thought.
"What do you think, Alex?" Flash asked.
He wished that he could talk to Jo, ask her advice about this, but she sat like a statue, staring down at the armory.
"Any sign that they've gone inside the building?" he asked Flash.
"Uh, uh." Flash shook his head. "Those big red doors are locked up tight."
Flash referred to the twenty-foot-tall front entrance, twin doors painted a faded blood red, its size designed to accommodate tanks and armored cars. There were other doors, of course, and it was preposterous to assume that the infected had not been able to get inside.
"Well, if we go straight for it," Alex said, "maybe we can kill enough of them to scare off the others."
Flash's expression was doubtful, but he nodded. They had to do something. Things weren't going to get any better if they waited.
"Give the word, boss." Flash smiled at him, and Alex thought that here was a brave man. Maybe Flash wasn't afraid simply because he had lived with death for so long.
"All right," Alex said to the others. "We've got a limited supply of ammunition, so don't just shoot at anything. Make sure you've got a target. It's best to go for the head, because a wound that would shock an uninfected human being might not stop these people. There's another reason, too. They're better off dead, and a gut shot, even if it knocks one off his feet, might not finish him. You're doing him a favor by killing him quick. Remember that."
Elvin stared at him with his usual vacant, hypnoidal expression. "We'll remember," he said slowly and deliberately.
Alex took a long look at the grim faces of his guerrillas. Misfits, society's rejects, drug addicts though they might be, they wanted to strike back for the years of fear and misery the colloids had brought to the earth. They might never get another chance; the rebellion could end right here where it started. They were afraid, but they were still ready to fight. That was the best attitude a soldier could have.
Alex raised his hand, but Flash pointed toward the armory before he could give the signal.
"Look," Flash said.
Alex turned and saw what had caught Flash's attention. One of the big, red doors was opening. The infected milling about 33rd Street turned and stared dumbly as the armory was opened to attack.
"Let's go!" Alex shouted.
They were on their feet and running down the hill, outnumbered at least five to one. The element of surprise, as Alex had anticipated, favored them. The red door was open all the way now, revealing a dark, cavernous room inside. The infected, staring at the armory like the faithful at a shrine, still did not see the guerrillas coming.
A gunshot exploded behind Alex.
Without slowing down, he glanced over his shoulder. Jo was holding her .32, smoke streaming from its barrel. She had stopped running, and fell behind the others.
The guerrillas were only halfway down the hill, but the infected were turning, awareness rippling through their numbers. The gunshot had taken their attention away from the armory door. Still, the infected were not organized. They stood dumbly as the attack force reached them.
Alex was almost on top of the nearest one before he fired. The infected man's head burst open, his body tumbling away upon the shock of impact. Gunfire popped all around Alex, but his people kept their heads and stayed together. Three more infected bodies fell before he could find another target.
The guerrillas broke through into the armory. Alex tried to push the door closed, but found it to be very heavy. Somebody screamed. He saw Elvin being dragged back outside by four or five of the infected, his fingers clawing at them ineffectually.
"Flash!" Alex shouted. "Find a way to shut that door!" And he was on Elvin's attackers, clubbing them with the butt of the Ingram. It was too risky to shoot at such close quarters, but he caught a woman squarely in the temple. She clung tenaciously to Elvin in spite of the blow. Three more well placed jabs had loosened her hold, however, and now several other guerrillas had come to Elvin's assistance. His attackers were beaten to the ground, and then their bloody bodies were shot, gunfire echoing through the huge open room.
The sound of creaking wood caused Alex to look back and see Flash closing the thick, red door. More
of the infected were staggering inside before he could shut it, though.
"Faster, Flash!" Alex shouted. "Faster!"
But the weight of the door made it slow going. Alex fired at three advancing infected, and shouted, "Form a line here! Don't let any of them through!"
The guerrillas stood abreast, shooting into the advancing enemy bodies. The faded red paint was spattered with a darker crimson as the door moved slowly, ponderously. Closing it could not have taken more than twenty seconds, but it seemed like hours. The concrete floor was awash with blood, and twitching fingers were crushed as the door finally shut.
The screams of the dying echoed through the armory, and Alex ordered his people to finish them off. The last gunshots were deafening in the enclosed space. The place reeked of cordite and blood.
Doctor Siegel dropped her gun. It clunked onto the floor and she followed, kneeling before them all, staring at the corpses with emotionless eyes.
"This is no time to quit," Alex said. "There might be more of them in here. Somebody opened that door while we were coming down the hill, and it wasn't one of us."
He started back into the shadows, where tanks rested like slumbering dinosaurs. Flash went with him, and Riquelme. It was only then that he realized that Jo was no longer among them.
"Where's Jo?" he cried, suddenly very frightened. "She didn't get left outside, did she?"
"No, man," Flash said. "She made it inside. But she said she was gonna take a look to see if there were any colloids back here."
"You mean she came back here alone?"
"Yeah, I was gonna go with her, but you told me to shut the door. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
Alex nodded. Why would she do something so stupid? Fifteen minutes ago, she didn't even want to fight, and now she was going on point. It didn't make any sense.
They had worked their way deep into the armory now, and were creeping through the armored cars, when Alex heard something move.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Alex crouched next to the armored car. He heard Flash and Riquelme breathing raggedly behind him. Whoever or whatever he had just heard, it was moving closer. A soft sliding sound, just around the front end of the armored car. In another second it would be in sight.
It stopped.
Alex held a palm up, signaling Riquelme and Flash to stay where they were. They would wait until the thing came out where he could see it.
But it didn't show. Sweat made Alex's scalp itch, as he waited for something to happen. Several seconds passed, and no sound came from the front end of the armored car. Carefully, Alex lowered his head to see past its wheels. There were two boots there in the shadows. Should he shoot this person in the foot? It might be the smartest thing to do, under the circumstances.
"Alex," Jo's voice called out. "Where are you?"
"Jesus," he breathed. Standing up, he said. "Over here, baby."
Jo stepped into sight. "What are you doing over there?"
"Oh, just playing hide and seek."
Jo laughed. "Really?"
"Yeah . . . and what have you been doing?"
"Checking the place out with my little friend here." She waved the .32 nonchalantly.
"Find anything?"
"Just a second storey door in the north wing that goes out to a fire escape onto Cuthbert Street. It was wide open, as if somebody had just left in a hurry. I locked up after them."
"You didn't see anything else?"
"No. We're the only ones in here now."
"How can you be sure?"
Jo shrugged. "Check it out for yourself."
"I will."
Jo started to walk back toward the others, but Alex grabbed her arm.
"You almost blew the whole raid," he said.
She jerked her arm away from him. "What do you mean by that?"
"You know what I mean. Firing that shot."
"I thought I could hit one of those guys."
"With a handgun? That far away? On the run? Are you kidding?"
"No, I'm not kidding."
"I don't know if everybody made it inside. If they didn't, you've got a lot to answer for, Jo."
"Fuck you," she said, and walked away.
He watched her for a moment, and then turned to Flash and Riquelme. "See those catwalks up there?" he said. "Let's go up and take a look through those windows, see if we can find out what's going on outside."
A shaft of light from one of those very windows revealed a stairway. Alex bounded up, with Flash and Riquelme right behind him. Directing each of them to a separate window, on the north and south sides of the armory, Alex made his way down the catwalk to the west side. The glass in the windows there was smoky, but few of the panes were shattered. Alex rubbed a clear circle onto the glass at eye level and peered out.
There were infected people milling about on the sidewalk, as before. Other than a few corpses sprawled onto the pavement and in the gutter, there was no sign that there had been a battle here a few short minutes ago. Perhaps the infected understood that their enemies were now trapped inside the armory, and that waiting was the best strategy. They didn't appear to be any kind of coherent force. But why were they here at all? There was no food for them; nothing, in fact, but weapons.
Starting back down to the ground floor, Alex thought about what those weapons could mean to his guerrillas—if they could ever get out of this building.
Halfway down the stairs, he heard a commotion coming from inside the armory. His people were struggling with somebody near the door. He heard them shouting and saw a robed, bearded man striking at his attackers with a pipe. It was Samuel!
Alex rushed down and stopped them from hurting the old man. He had to forcibly push two people away. In the din of screams and imprecations, they couldn't hear him say that he knew Samuel, but the violence soon quieted. Jo stood off at a distance, leaning against a tank's treads, watching silently.
Alex faced Samuel's attackers. "This man is not the enemy," he said. "I know him. I don't understand how he got in here, but let's give him a chance to explain."
"I am the hand of the Lord," Samuel thundered, raising his pipe on high. "I smite the enemies of Israel."
"Israel?" someone said. "What's he talking about?"
"The mouth of Baal has opened, and the Children of Israel have been delivered."
"You opened the door, didn't you?" Alex asked, grinning. "You saw us from one of those windows up there, and you opened the door to let us in."
"If he did that, why was he hiding?" a woman named Mavis asked.
"He would have been killed if he hadn't," Alex pointed out. "He doesn't have a gun."
"It was the Lord's wish that you find shelter here," Samuel allowed. "I was the hand of God."
"Maybe you were, at that." Alex turned to the others. "You almost killed this man, and he was the one who made our victory possible."
"How do we know that?" Jo stepped forward. "We found him hiding in here. How do we know that he didn't just take credit for opening the door?"
"Well, if he didn't open it, who did?" Flash said.
"Even if he did open it, how do we know he did it to help us?" Jo persisted. "What if he was trying to let the infected in here, to arm them?"
"Good point," said Jill.
"What do we really know about this man?" Jo turned a cold gaze on Samuel.
"For Christ's sake, Jo," Alex said, "Samuel helped us before. Have you forgotten that he put his life on the line for us?"
"A lot could have happened since then."
She was right. It was possible that Samuel had been infected since then. He didn't seem any different, though. No blue blotches on his skin, and he spoke articulately, despite his obsessive religiosity. "He's not the enemy," Alex said.
"Would you stake your life on it?" Jo asked.
Alex looked deep into Samuel's eyes. There was madness there, but it was a human madness. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I would stake my life on it."
The guerrillas, who had been listenin
g intently, seemed to relax a little. They trusted Alex enough to know that he would not make such a claim lightly. They withdrew to the building's corners, leaving Alex alone with Samuel.
"Don't blame them," Alex said. "They have reason to be suspicious of strangers."
"As do we all," said Samuel. "For we are all strangers in a strange land."