Anarchy

by Peter Meredith

  There was a gap at the top and from it came a hideous stench, like the sludge at the bottom of a trashcan, and yet they grinned because along with the smell was a thin, dreary little grey light.

  Bryce went up first, pipe in hand. He crawled through fetid muck and shit-stinking slime, and found himself in yet another tunnel! Compared to the last, this was the Taj Mahal of tunnels, however. This one was taller, wider and brighter. Even the rats were smaller. Anyone from street level poking their heads in would’ve shied away retching, but the little group climbed up eagerly. They didn’t really need a guide now and scurried to the source of the light, which turned out to be a caged-over grate. Water gushed down at them but because there was a gaping wound in the tunnel it flowed down into some dark pit.

  “I guess we’re in some sort of a sewer line,” Bryce said. Reaching up, he tested the grate. It seemed firmly attached to the wall. To that he said, “Hmm,” and then slid the front end of his pipe into the corner and pulled down. The angle wasn’t good for pulling, so he inverted himself while still holding the pipe and started heaving with his legs and back.

  Maddy and Plinkett put their hands out, just in case he fell suddenly.

  There was nothing sudden to his fight with the grate. He shook and shivered with the effort, and slowly the metal pulled back until there was a large enough gap for even Plinkett to climb up through. It was a tight fit and they were thoroughly mucked-up by the time they climbed up into the world. They had all fully expected it to be night out, but there was still a soft glow coming from the west as the sun set behind dark clouds.

  The light of the setting sun was nothing compared to a golden brilliance filling the sky in the north. Maddy was suddenly struck, jarringly so, by the most intense sense of deja’vu she’d ever experienced. It was as if two very similar realities were crossing over each other.

  “What is that?” she asked. But she knew.

  “It’s the Bronx,” Victoria answered in a shaking whisper that made it seem as if she was feeling exactly what Maddy was. She wasn’t, however. She was shaken by the fact that her one reality was turning to ash all around her. “The Bronx is on fire. All of it.”

  Maddy’s knees went out from under her and she dropped to the curb…

  The dead came over the wall just as the sun set. There was only a soft golden glow in the west, which was nothing compared to the inferno raging to the north. The Bronx was on fire—all of it.

  For some reason, the dead swarmed at sunrise and sunset. They grew manic and would charge at a flapping screen door or attack a swirl of leaves. It took rock-steady nerves to remain motionless when a dozen bloody creatures came roaring in a man’s direction.

  Or a woman’s, Maddy thought. There was a high scream and suddenly the dead were everywhere. Hiding was no longer an option. Maddy let the first few pass before she stepped out from behind a van and swung her bat. It felt light in her hand and yet it had enough weight behind it to crush a skull.

  She reversed her grip and whipped the bat left-handed at the next of the frothing-mad creatures. Just as she did, its foot came off the sidewalk and it dipped. The bat clipped the top of its greasy head, tearing a chunk of diseased flesh away. It wobbled in place, its eyes losing focus for just a second.

  This gave Maddy enough time to swing the bat again. Tank! Its skull cracked like an egg and shards of bone went deep.

  Maddy spun, moving with a grace that only a dream could give. Down went another of the black-eyed beasts. And another. But when one fell, two took its place. She was being swarmed from all directions and no amount of grace or quickness would save her. She reached for the gun at her hip.

  To shoot would be a death sentence for most of her group. Instead of a hundred beasts, they would be neck-deep in a thousand. Her hand hesitated as the morality of her action struck her. But there was no time for hesitation. A clawed hand slashed at her neck, drawing blood. Another beast slammed into her.

  It tripped on the curb and as it stumbled, it pulled her down as well. Something fell across her legs and now the gun was out. She aimed, but as she did, a shadow swept over her. Bryce stood over her, looking tall and golden in the last light as he swung his axe in a…

  “Are you okay?” It was Bryce standing over her, looking tall but as far from golden as a person could. He was covered in muck and what looked like tar, though it was turning to grey as the rain drizzled down. They all looked like this; their clothes ripped to pieces, their skin covered in ancient shit. In the dream it was different but not by much.

  “I saw this. In a dream, I think. There was a wall.” She slowly turned and saw a brick wall. It was the same head height brick wall. She remembered the bushes and the graffiti; and behind it was a church or a school. She couldn’t remember. But here was the van that she had been hiding behind. She went to it and touched the metal; it sent a quiver through her guts. “We have to get out of here. They’re coming.”

  They all heard the moans then. The dead were coming down from the surrounding building. They were coming down to feast.

  Chapter 19

  When the zombies came, Griff was sprawled on the steps leading up to a six-story apartment building. His head lolled in a stupor of exhaustion. Plinkett, who was only a little better off, was sitting with his head hanging practically between his knees. The man’s old baby face looked ready for a nap.

  A few feet away, Victoria huddled against the rain under a green awning that jutted all of a foot from the front of a metal grate. When she saw the first zombie, she froze, hoping it hadn’t seen her. It was a torn-up, ragged creature with great hunks of flesh hanging from it, as if it had been eaten by a pack of wolves. In life, the creature had been a big chubby woman and the zombies that had killed her had to dig through a lot of flesh to get to her vitals.

  Having that much flesh had saved her eyes and she peered through the lowering light at Victoria. When the creature took a step towards the woman, Maddy grabbed for her ice axe; however, Bryce stopped her. There were too many around them, creeping from the shadows. It would be a fight that they would lose. And running wasn’t much of an option, either. Griff would be the first to die, and Plinkett would be next.

  Bryce caught Victoria’s eye and shook his head very slowly from side to side. The zombie had not attacked, probably because they were so disgustingly filthy. Then Bryce, in a very deliberate manner, dropped his chin and assumed a slouched stance; a zombie stance.

  Maddy did as well and through her tangles of brown hair watched Victoria try the same thing. As she couldn’t stop shaking and shivering with fright and the cold, she was hardly realistic as a zombie and the real zombie came closer, snuffling and grunting. Victoria was shaking so badly that she looked epileptic, and yet she didn’t break like Maddy thought she would.

  The zombie sniffed right in her ear and still she didn’t move.

  To their right came a crowd of the creatures. Dead-eyed though they were, they angled toward the humans. Plinkett’s hand slid into the shredded remains of his coat. In vain, Maddy tried to signal him with a headshake as well. Plinkett wasn’t looking. With his shoulders hunched and his hand a twitch away from pulling his gun, he was eyeing the closest of the grey beasts. Depending how many bullets he had left in his gun, he could get three or four of the creatures, but then what?

  Like the zombie that had given Victoria a closer look, this one was snorting and sniffing. What would it smell? Maddy worried it would catch the scent of Plinkett’s sweat as she had. Would that be enough for it to attack? Would he even wait for it to get that close? And what…

  Griff suddenly stood, a black look to his dark face. The zombie turned towards him and, to everyone’s amazement, he slammed the zombie to the ground. Another came charging up and he shoved it hard over the first, growling as he did. With the others staring, he took a few steps forward and leaned on a car—and none of the other zombies attacked him! They seemed confused. One got close and he hissed, “Get away.”

  It teetered off and
the others seemed to shy away as well.

  Although they were saved for the moment, none of them thought what had happened was a good sign. Victoria even mouthed towards Maddy, I knew it.

  Maddy glared back. Just then, still surrounded by zombies, was not the time for an “I told you so.” This was especially true as Maddy’s fear kept mounting. It wasn’t just that they were stuck outside surrounded and defenseless, there was more to it than that.

  Tucking her chin down, she whispered, “We have to move.”

  “To where?” Bryce asked. They were out in the middle of the street with only cars between them and the dead. He turned slowly as a gloomy twilight took a grip on the street. As far as Bryce was concerned, it was an average New York street: cars, bumper to bumper as far as the eye could see, looming buildings, dark for the most part, but with the occasional gleam of a candle, and zombies moving here and there. None of the buildings looked particularly accessible. Locked gates were pulled down and doors were shut tight.

  Maddy turned to look across the crowded street at the church—the cross hanging on the building gave it away. She and Bryce had been on the other side of the wall in her dream. There had been people hiding inside. Some were fighters armed with hatchets and bats; one man had something that resembled a cartoon mallet with an over-sized head. Were any of them real?

  Yes, she decided. She could feel their presence and at least one was watching them. It was a woman. She was afraid for the little group, but also terribly confused by everything she was seeing.

  Maddy jerked her chin towards the church, but saw that Bryce wasn’t paying attention. He was gazing with hard eyes on one of the zombies. It was long and rangy with black hair that hung almost to the ground as it was bent at the waist sniffing, sniffing, sniffing. It had a scent it was following and there was little doubt in Bryce’s mind where the scent would lead.

  “When you’re done,” Maddy whispered, “to the church.”

  He nodded and slid his hand down to the center of the pipe. He was just about to pick it up when Maddy cleared her throat just loud enough to be heard over the sound of the rain and the moan of the zombies. Once more, she jerked her head towards the church. No one moved, except for Bryce and that was to shrug. The time for standing around was over.

  In a blur of motion, he hefted the pipe, brought it back over his shoulder and then launched it at the sniffing zombie thirty feet away. He had never in his life thrown a real spear; a broom chucked at a tree in the seventh grade had been the closest thing to one and as the bristle end had smacked him in the head as it flew by, he had missed his mark by a good five feet. Despite this one dubious attempt, he didn’t hesitate with the pipe and nor did he want for confidence. The long pipe felt completely natural in his hand, and his body seemed to know exactly what to do, as if he’d been throwing spears his entire life.

  A six-foot length of pipe isn’t exactly properly weighted to be used as a spear and had the distance been greater or the velocity at which it was thrown less, it might have turned in mid-air; however, it flashed across thirty feet at such a shocking velocity that there was no time for it to turn. It seemed to appear in the creature’s head, transfixing it front to back through the cheek.

  It was down a second later, twitching.

  Bryce followed after the spear, leaping from car to car so that he had the attention of as many of the zombies as possible. In four great bounds, he reached the twitching corpse and had the pipe plucked from it. Up to the hood of a yellow cab he jumped and began to lay about with the pipe, swinging it with speed that even the Bryce of that morning’s battle would’ve raised an eyebrow at.

  The others broke for the church. Victoria raced for it, dodging the zombies around her. Plinkett grabbed Griff and began hauling him along. Whatever energy Griff had was gone and they shambled from car to car. Maddy had her axe out and cleared the way for them. She didn’t look much better than the half-dead creatures, but she moved with fluid gracefulness, the axe striking with grim precision. The taller ones, with their greater reach frequently snagged her coat or tried to scratch her face. The hands, when they came one at a time were easy to dodge, and then she’d be in close with her axe, going for the temple when she could.

  A strike to the crown of the head was a desperate gamble because the reaction by zombies was completely unpredictable. Some jerked straight up. Others went stiff and fell straight back like a tree falling. One suddenly lashed out with both hands. All of which made her already wet grip on the axe precarious and she couldn’t afford to lose a second in a tug of war with her sole weapon.

  It took thirty seconds for Griff and Plinkett to get across the street and over the wall. Victoria took just as long, as she ran first to a wrought iron gate and tried to barge through despite the heavy chain wrapped around the bars, its links bright as silver. Foolishly, she shook the gate which clanged back and forth. The sound was like a dinner bell and the closest zombies charged straight for her.

  Maddy, who had been about to scamper over the wall, had to turn and dash over to her. Three quick strides and Maddy leaped in a manner that wasn’t exactly a flying front kick; there wasn’t enough technique to be called that. Rather it was more a heavy, flying stomp that struck a big zombie in the small of the back and sent it crashing face down at Victoria’s feet. Another was stumbling blindly at the woman and didn’t even see Maddy who drove into it from the side and shoved it hard into a third. As much as she wanted to stop and smash the three with her axe, there was no time.

  She turned, grabbed Victoria, and heaved her at the wall, lifting her off the ground. The woman was over her head before Maddy knew it. It had to be the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Maddy thought. It was all the time she had to give to the sudden feat of strength. A grey scabby hand was about to reach for her from behind.

  Maddy spun and caught the creature’s slimy wrist with her left hand, drove it across its body and swung the axe at the tail end of the spin, dropping the zombie. Then she was moving, running light on her feet, zigzagging in and out of the beasts until she saw an opening for the wall. Up she went, nimble as a goat, to stand full upon it.

  From her vantage she saw Bryce, with fifty zombies hot after him. He wasn’t heading for the church. At first, she thought he was being macho and leading the dead away, and in a sense, he was; he had just chosen to lead them through a Vietnamese restaurant, first. His stomach had howled at the thought of a bon-mi, the French-inspired sandwiches that he had loved even before his transformation. Just before he slipped into the Vietnamese joint, he too, paused. Looking back, he saw Maddy and gave her a quick grin.

  Knowing what he was up to, she sent a scowl in his direction. He was going to have dinner while she still had her hands full, shepherding the others to safety.

  Grumbling, she dropped down into a pleasant little courtyard, In front of her was a winding path, statues of angels and stone benches. It was, for the moment, a place of peace and reflection. It wouldn’t be much longer. The howling horde was at the gates and piling up at the wall. Luckily, the church was almost fortress like, with bars on the lower windows and a door that was straight out of a castle. It was made of thick, varnished oak and sported no less than three keyholes.

  Victoria was already pounding away at it, her fists making only small thumping noises. “Open up! We’re not zombies!”

  Maddy didn’t think there was a chance in hell of that working. People were too selfish and too self-absorbed to risk opening the door for strangers, especially when they looked exactly like zombies, and double especially when there was a horde hot on their heels. “Forget it,” she told Victoria. “We’ll go around and see what’s on the next…”

  The door suddenly cracked open and there stood a great bearded man in thick, almost leather looking Carrhart coveralls. In his meaty hands was a sledgehammer, not a cartoon mallet as she had envisioned. “You’re not bit?” he asked. Victoria went stiff and it was such an effort to keep her unblinking eyes from straying to Griff that
the man’s heavy brows met in the middle of his forehead and he looked right at Griff.

  “I wasn’t bit,” Griff told him. “I swear.”

  “He’s a mutated version of the creatures,” Maddy said. “As am I. We’re not contagious. If you let us in, I can explain everything including how this all started.”

  The bearded man started shaking his head as he looked at each in turn. Plinkett reached into his coat. Maddy thought he was going for his gun, instead he pulled his wallet and flashed his FBI badge. “It’s true,” he said. “Daniel Magnus is behind it all. We were investigating him when all this broke out.”

  “No,” the bearded man answered. “The devil did this.”

  He started to close the door when someone behind him cleared his throat and said in a soft clear voice, “Let them in. We cannot turn them away.” Without hesitation the door was opened and the bearded man stood aside. He eyed them in the gloom and as they passed, his nose wrinkled.

  “We had to make our way through the sewers,” Victoria explained. “It was the only way.” Self-consciously, she pulled her torn coat closer around her as she tried to peer through the dark. They were in a corridor with pure white walls and dark hardwood flooring. A crowd of wan, frightened faces peered from an arched doorway at the end of the hall, while closer stood a small pale man in priestly vestments. No one said anything for the longest time.

  Victoria broke the silence. “I’m looking for my son. He’s ten and he was with…”

  The priest, Father O’Lyn, shook his head. “There are no children here. Come. Let’s see if we have clothes that might fit you. And you can tell us your story.”

  No children. Victoria hadn’t really expected to find her son here and yet, the news was just another weight on her shoulders. Vaguely pointing behind her, she asked, “What about the zombie? What if they get in?”

  Father O’Lyn gave her a reassuring smile. “They won’t. God protects us. This is a sanctuary. An oasis in all this madness. Nothing can get in. Trust me.”