Grave New World (Book 3): Dead Men Don't Skip

by S. P. Blackmore

  Absolutely nothing.

  I really missed my gun.

  We found the back door unlocked.

  Well, unlocked is a strong term. The entire locking mechanism had either been torn or shot out, and while the door itself still opened and shut all right, there was little to keep anyone from going in or coming out.

  Tony looked at me, eyebrows lifted. This is a terrible idea, his eyes said.

  He pushed the door open anyway. It revealed the sort of silent, darkened corridor that most video game players would rejoice in seeing. I, on the other hand, had no intention of reenacting scenes from the most recent Resident Evil release, and itched for a flashlight or good old track lighting.

  “Someone really wanted to get in here,” Tony muttered.

  “Saves us the trouble of picking the lock.”

  “That’s a big round. Someone came through here with a machine gun.” Tony stared into the hallway. “Someone…or something.”

  “Quit being dramatic,” Dax shot back. “The dead don’t carry machine guns. Angry soldiers do.”

  Evie’s nose was working overtime, but she didn’t seem distressed, which we took as an indication the place was safe enough. I, however, lacked proper ocular preparation and turned to the boys.

  “Do either of you have a flashlight?”

  Tony sighed, produced something from his belt, and clicked it on. I took it from him and surveyed the plain, featureless corridor. Framed prints of happy people emblazoned with encouraging statements like TEAMWORK and YOU CAN DO IT adorned the walls. There was no sign of anything moving—living or dead.

  I crept inside, forcing myself to plant one step in front of the next. The guys followed me, thankfully keeping their mumblings to a minimum. The air tasted stale and musty, as if it had been shut up for quite some time. They’d apparently abandoned at least this radio tower quite some time ago.

  The office doors set into the corridor walls each bore silver plaques: WARD ROOM. MAP ROOM. RADIO ROOM.

  I stopped in front of the last one, surprised that the Army had taken the time to craft such nice nameplates…or maybe they just carried a steady supply of these things around with them for when they needed to take over civilian spaces. “This looks like the place,” I said.

  Tony and Dax looked at me. “Well, Fearless Leader, go to it,” Tony said.

  Evie put her nose up against the crack between the door and the floor, sniffed, and wagged her tail.

  I sighed and twisted the handle, then gave the door a push. It swung inward, releasing stale-tasting air. I reached to the right and flicked on a switch, but nothing happened.

  “No power,” I said. We had a little bit of light from a window placed high up on the wall, but that was it. “Alyssa said there was a generator…oh, there it is.” At least, I assumed the big red box in the corner was the generator. There wasn’t much else it could be.

  “Keller cut off power to a lot of the abandoned parts to keep fire risk down,” Tony said. “One of the occasional smart things he did.”

  “Are you sure it was him?”

  “On second thought, that does sound more like a Durkee decision.” Tony led the way inside, flashlight held up so he could bludgeon someone if necessary. “I don’t know when they shut this place down, though. Was it when Durkee was in power? May he rest.”

  I shrugged.

  The radio itself seemed largely undisturbed, propped up a bit precariously on what had once been a computer desk. An old PC—which had probably lived on the desk before the military moved in—had been unceremoniously stashed beneath it.

  “Should’ve gotten a Mac,” Tony said. “Place looks clear.”

  We drifted inside. I pushed the door slightly shut behind us. There were no big pieces of furniture or anything else for an unsavory ghoul to leap out from behind, and the dog seemed unconcerned, so I figured we were pretty safe for the time being.

  Evie seemed fascinated by some metal pipe in the corner, and she set about to investigating that while the three of us checked out the radio itself.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting or hoping for. I pulled out the directions Alyssa had dictated to me and stared at them, then at the radio itself. While writing them down I had certainly gotten the idea that maybe we were in for a bit of a project, but looking at my handwriting and then at the loads of buttons and dials on the radio made me woozy. Maybe I’d overestimated our ability to figure it out.

  “First,” Tony said, “let’s clarify. Do any of us know how the fuck to use this thing?”

  Alyssa’s directions looked even more cryptic in the poor light, but hell, we were here. “Turn on the generator on the right,” I said. “Give it a minute. Then power on the unit. Then set it to the Elderwood frequency. Then…”

  “Stop there,” Tony said. “Right there.”

  Dax leaned in front of the radio, squinting at the keypad. “This seems to be how we pick channels” he said. “Which one is Elderwood?”

  “They changed it,” Tony said. “Either channel three or four, I think.”

  Evie scuttled back to the door and sniffed at it, her tail zipping back and forth.

  “Come here, girl,” Dax said distractedly.

  She came back over and rested her muzzle on the table.

  “Do you know how to use this thing?” I asked her.

  Evie regarded me very seriously, her eyebrows lifting. Her tail thumped again.

  “Even if she did, she’s not much help to us,” Tony said. “She lacks opposable thumbs.”

  I decided not to hold that against her.

  “Well, turn on the generator,” I said.

  Tony and Dax looked at me expectantly.

  Oh, hell no.

  “You are men,” I said. “One of you has to know how to turn on the goddamn generator!”

  The door creaked as it swung inward.

  “You flip the switch,” a male voice said. “That’s about all there is to it.”

  We spun around. Tony raised the flashlight like a pistol. Dax lifted his fists. I snatched the computer’s mouse from under the desk and held it in as threatening a fashion as I could manage—which, I must admit, was not really all that threatening.

  Logan Andrews squinted away from the light, holding up a hand to keep it from blinding him. “You three look ridiculous,” he said. “What are you going to do, medic, pummel me with the trackball?”

  “I’ll kick your ass,” I said.

  They all rolled their eyes at me. All of them!

  “Logan Andrews, of the Food Truck Brigade,” Tony said, “what are you doing here? Are you bringing us lunch?”

  “Alyssa sent me.”

  Tony glanced at me. “That your radio girl?”

  “That’s my sister,” Logan snapped. “And she told me you all meant well but you were probably going to blow up the city if you wandered around on your own. She said to help you.”

  Wow. Alyssa had more of a bead on us than I’d realized.

  “Now put down that fucking flashlight, man. My peepers are burning.”

  Tony kept the light on him for another few seconds, then lowered it, his mouth pressing into a line. Logan wasn’t carrying the usual rifle I saw soldiers toting around, and his hands were well away from the dual pistols at his hips. Apparently he hadn’t viewed us as much of a threat when he barged in.

  I guess I couldn’t blame him. Our merry trio might strike fear into the hearts of irradiated bikers and the living dead, but professional soldiers were completely different beasts.

  “Guessing you want to raise Elderwood,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “Didn’t realize we still had this thing. I figured they pulled it open for parts.” He made his way between the group of us, wedged himself between me and Dax, and studied the unit. “This thing is a little more advanced than what they trained me on, but I think I can get it going. Turn on the jenny, kid.”

  Dax flicked the switch. A soft hum filled the room, and Evie nosed toward it with
great interest.

  “How is she?” I asked Logan.

  “Worse. The whole tent is worse. That idiot Pete is running around screaming about Spanish flu and bubonic plague and Renati says it’s just a new plague…then Lattimore tells him to shut up and then everyone sees them fight.” He glanced at me. “Sorry about that verbal bitchslapping Keller gave you. Not much I could do. He really hates giving guns to civilians.”

  I shrugged. As long as he didn’t bring up the bedpan.

  “Alyssa said you clocked a dead girl with a bedpan.”

  Dammit.

  “Whatever knocks them down,” I mumbled.

  He switched on the radio. The narrow screen across the top lit up. “We got power,” he announced. “What channel?”

  “Try three,” Tony said. “Three is what they were on last time, but they jumped around.”

  Logan made the necessary change, and then pushed the microphone to Tony. “They’ll know your voice, not mine.”

  Tony took the mic, then cleared his throat. “Elderwood? This is Hastings. Elderwood, are you there? This is McKnight.” He paused. “Over?” He twisted around to look at us. “Is that what I’m supposed to say? I’m not sure how to—”

  Static crackled. The dog jumped.

  At least it was static. I figured that was better than nothing…at least, that was how it worked in the movies.

  “How long are we supposed to wait?” Tony asked.

  Logan shrugged. “They manning that thing constantly?”

  “They were—mostly while trying to reach you. They may have given up.” Tony returned his attention to the mic. “Elderwood, Hammond, anyone, this is McKnight, we’ve reached Hastings, please answer us. Please? You guys there?”

  I imagined an empty radio room at the top of one of Elderwood’s older buildings. Dust and spiderwebs covered everything, and a single zombie sat in front of the radio, staring at it in confusion.

  “Switch it to four,” Dax said. “Maybe they moved channels.”

  Logan pushed buttons on the keypad. “Okay. We’re on four.”

  Tony clicked the mic again. “Elderwood, this is McKnight at Hastings, please say you copy or some shit. I walked through revenant-infested territory to get here.”

  “There were no revenants,” I said.

  “Shut up, Vibby.”

  “Don’t jinx us!”

  “I’m trying to talk to these people—”

  “Hello? Yes, Hastings? Is that you?” A sleepy voice broke into our chatter.

  Tony dropped the microphone. It landed on the ground with a thump.

  “Hastings?” The voice sounded clearer now. Stronger. “What are you arguing about?”

  We all sat there gawking at each other for a full three seconds.

  Tony fumbled around for the microphone, clasped it, and yanked it back upward. “This is McKnight at Hastings,” he said, managing to sound both calm and composed despite looking ready to jump out of his skin. “Is, uh, General Hammond there?”

  “McKnight?” Astonishment crept into the operator’s voice. “You’re in Hastings?”

  “Yes.”

  Forget astonishment; the operator sounded downright awed. “Alive?”

  Tony glanced down at himself, then at us. “Last I checked.”

  “Shit! Stay on. I’ll be right back with the general.”

  I clapped my hands. “Hammond’s still there!”

  “We don’t know that.” Tony shifted from one foot to the other, his hands clenched tightly around the microphone. “Someone else could’ve gotten a field promotion. Shit! I wasn’t ready for this. I need a speech.”

  “Why do you need a speech?”

  “So I don’t sound like Dax talking to the dog!”

  Dax held up his middle finger. “Fuck you, too.”

  “McKnight?”

  I half-expected Tony to blurt out Who’s a good girl? to the radio.

  Instead, he gulped down whatever emotions he may or may not have been feeling, and said, in a thick voice, “General.”

  I heard the sound of a gusting, relieved sigh pour out through the speakers, and instantly pictured Hammond nearly collapsing over Elderwood’s radio unit. “McKnight, you fuckwit, where the hell have you been?”

  “Your general calls people fuckwits?” Logan asked.

  “It’s a term of endearment,” I said. “I think.”

  “We ran into some trouble.” Tony paused. “A lot of trouble.”

  Another deep sigh came through the speakers. “I can’t say how glad I am to hear from you, Tony. Who’s in charge there?”

  “Some kid named Keller.”

  Logan glanced around uneasily, as if saying Keller’s name might invoke him.

  Evie growled softly. Maybe she didn’t like the captain, either.

  “Keller?” Hammond spat. “He’s…twelve…”

  Tony snickered. “Nah, he just looks it. What do you know about him?”

  “Not much, to be honest. Durkee was having problems with one of his younger officers. I think it may have been Keller…he’s running things now?”

  Well, that’s interesting. I glanced at Logan to take in his reaction, and saw that his eyebrows had almost vanished into his hairline. I reached down to pet the dog, taking some comfort in her closeness.

  “Yeah, because Durkee’s dead,” Tony said.

  Hammond sighed. “Then that kid probably killed him.”

  “Dude,” Logan said. “We can’t talk like this.”

  Hammond’s voice hardened immediately. “Who’s with you? Why hasn’t Hastings been transmitting?”

  Tony shook his head slightly at Logan. “They maintain the radio’s been broken. For whatever reason, it was never fixed. We’re with a food truck guy at a backup unit in the blocked off part of town.”

  “Why are you hanging out with a food truck guy?” Hammond sounded mystified that he was even asking the question.

  Logan grabbed the mic. “I’m actually a sniper. Keller just has me handing out pastrami.”

  “Pastrami? What the fuck is going on over there?”

  Tony snatched the mic back. “That’s an excellent question, sir.”

  I decided I might as well get in on things, and pulled the microphone toward me. “General, it’s Vibeke.”

  “Vibeke! I’m so glad—”

  “They’re having gladiator games with zombies.” I heard my voice spiraling upward, all the horror and helplessness I had squashed away starting to seep out in my voice. “He’s holding Gloria Fey and her cameraman prisoner. And there’s a sickness and things are batshit crazy please come rescue us.”

  “Gladiator games?” Hammond’s voice went up a notch. “Gloria Fey is there?”

  Tony snatched the mic back from me and twisted away so I couldn’t grab at it again. “The general has better things to do than saving our asses,” he said, then lowered his head. “But seriously, can you get us out of here? This place makes me itch. And yeah, he’s hanging on to Gloria Fey.”

  The general was silent for a moment.

  Then, “What is it you want me to do, McKnight? Roll in with some tanks?”

  “You’d do that for us?”

  Hammond sighed. “I can get a few men out to you, but you know damn well we only have one tank.”

  Evie wandered over to the door and started sniffing at it.

  I leaned around Tony. “Is everyone okay?” I asked in the general direction of the microphone. “What happened after we left?”

  The general laughed. I pictured him shrugging. “We got the situation under control, but it’s not pretty here. Are you—what are you doing over there, anyway? Besides driving everyone crazy.”

  Logan smirked. “Perceptive dude.”

  “Cork it, Food Truck,” Tony ordered. “We’re just trying to survive here, sir. But we’re all eating more pastrami than any one human can digest in a lifetime, and I don’t know how much longer Keller is going to keep his shit together.”

  Evie scratched at the d
oor and let out a soft whimper.

  “Does she need to go out?” Logan asked.

  “You still have the dog?” Hammond at least sounded pleased.

  “Vibeke, let her out.”

  “She’s Dax’s dog!’

  “Let the fucking dog out.”

  I started for the door. “Dog has an entire city to pee on and she has to wait until we’re talking to someone important…”

  I opened the door and found myself staring right into the shrunken, dry eyes of a ghoul in a nurse’s stained scrubs. The revenant must have stood some six and a half feet tall, and it stared down at me, its dried, cracked lips pulled back into a terrible grin.

  Evie growled. Well, now we knew why she’d been so anxious to get to the door.

  “Oh,” I said. “Shit.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  The undead nurse hovered for a second, as if expecting me to invite it in. At least, that was the impression I got. Maybe some shred of good manners still existed in its putrefying brain.

  “Well, don’t just stand there grinning at it!” Tony barked from behind me. “Kill it!”

  With what? I wasn’t about to challenge the thing to fisticuffs, so I stumbled backward. The zombie followed me into the room, its arms stretching out for me.

  Logan had a pistol in his hand already. He circled back behind the ghoul, kicking the door partially shut as he did so. “Vibeke, get away from it.”

  “Wait!” Dax called out. “Don’t shoot! You want to pull in more of them?”

  Logan lowered the gun uneasily. “It’ll just take one shot…”

  I kept backing away. Fortunately this particular dude moved slowly.

  “Not yet,” Tony said. “Trust me. One shot, they come running.”

  The pistol slipped back into its holster.

  What do you do with a revenant you can’t shoot?

  You smash.

  The closest movable object was a chair. I snatched it and swung, and the legs and frame shattered into pieces as they connected with the zombie’s torso. The ghoul stumbled to the side, knocked slightly off balance, but then it righted itself and kept on coming.

  I looked at the remains of the chair in my hands. “For fuck’s sake,” I said. “They couldn’t get something a little more solid?”

  “Libraries are broke,” Tony said. “Hang on, General, we have an issue…”