“Don't get on me, man! Seems you screwed the pooch, I'd say!” Alexx stomped her feet, and pulled her hair, blubbering. “You told him he wasn't a Jedi. What were you thinking? It's Ichiro, for God's sake! Fanboy extraordinaire!” Trips swerved around a heap of burning bodies and found his way through a section-8 sub-division. “He is, you know – a level twenty master. The council is considering him for Grand Master status. You disrespected him, major.”
“Oh, God,” Alexx moaned, throwing her arms out.
“Seriously.” Trips slowed the car down and took a deep breath. She’s calming down. Thank you, baby Jesus.
Alexx put her feet on the floor and blew her nose. “It's just a game.”
“No,” Trips scoffed, shaking his head. “You're a... girl – sometimes, I forget.”
“What does that mean?” Alexx asked, wiping her face with crumpled fast food napkins.
Oh, God. Please don’t start up again. My bad. “I don't know.” Trips shot her a glance and shrugged. He tried to smile. “Look, I'm sure he's just mad right now, and I'll talk to him, okay? Will you stop, now?”
Alexx frowned, folding her arms. “Ya’ know, Trips, girls can be hardcore gamers too.”
He downshifted into second gear. “You want me to talk to him?” Do not test me, mate.
Alexx blew her nose and raised her right palm. “I’ll stop. Thank you.”
Chapter 30: Call Your Girlfriend
Trips bore right onto Mount Auburn street and slowed Alexx’s Honda Fit to a crawl. The sky looked bruised, darker shades of gray were gathering into thick knots as he doused the headlights and stopped just shy of the cemetery gates. “Seems quiet.” He cracked his window and heard the occasional crow cawing then he turned to Alexx extracting his phone from his pocket. “Dewey’s not here yet, so guess I’ll text him we’ve arrived.”
“Can you call him?” Alexx asked gently, unlatching her seatbelt.
“What? Right now?” Trips asked, looking up from his text message. “Yeah, Ally, that's not such a good idea.” He looked down at his phone and finished his message to Dewey.
“C'mon, please?” Alexx sighed. She looked at herself in the mirror and gasped at the smears of makeup crisscrossing her face. “Oh, my God.”
“Okay.” Trips rolled his eyes and dialed Ichiro as he got out of the car, muttering, “It's simple Kentigern, women are the death knell for rationality.”
He leaned on the hood his senses on high alert. Ichiro picked up. “We’ve got to talk. She's quite contrite about the whole thing.” He listened for a moment, then huffed, “It means she's sorry, dumbass.”
Trips scratched his copper beard, listening. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He rubbed his neck, looked around and checked on Alexx. She was fixing her face. “I can't have her like this! She's a freaking mess! She'll get hurt, or get us killed. You've got to talk to her.” He made momentary eye contact with Alexx, then closed his eyes, turning away. Mistake!
He got up and staggered out of earshot then whispered, “Well, what exactly did she do?”
He wanted to get Ichiro's side of things, and at the same time, he was already way too involved. The wind picked up; leaves swirled and rustled against the wrought iron fence. He peered into the forest looking for danger, and sniffed the wind. Hearing Ichiro’s last comment, his eyes went wide, and he turned back toward the car. “You did not! Oh, Ich. I’ve gotta go.”
He swore under his breath, hung up and dialed Dewey. “Where are you? Actually, never mind that, we're here, okay? No zombies.”
He listened. “I don't know. Just hide the freakin' bag.” He listened. “The one from Ich. Yes, I know! I freakin' know way more than I ever needed to know.” He listened for a long moment, and squeezed his eyes shut, punching the sky. “Well that's between you, isn't it?” Trips pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, I will not talk to him for you. I'm done. Are you here yet? Where the hell are you?” The giant black truck rounded the corner, and Trips hung up.
Alexx got out of the car. Her long dark curls caught a leaf in the wind. Trips put the keys in her hand. “He says he can't talk to you.”
Alexx’s eyes began tearing up.
Lie, damn you. “But he'll talk to you later, okay? He'll talk to you later.” Gah, why me? Trips stomped toward Dewey's truck. He swished his index finger over his throat. “Snake, leave the bag of stuff. Do not let her see that.”
“Just tell him for me,” Dewey pleaded, as he opened his door.
Trips shook his head. “I am not his keeper.”
“Should I talk to Alexx?” Dewey asked, looking over at her.
“Be my guest,” Trips said. A raindrop grazed his cheek. He looked up at the dark sky. “Fucking great.”
Dewey approached Alexx leaning up against the back-passenger’s door of her car. “You okay?” He asked, tracing his finger down the seam of the hatchback.
Alexx glanced at him; her face in a tearful pout then looked at her feet and crossed her arms.
“You want me to call him?” Dewey asked, his hand over his heart.
Alexx lowered her head, hugging herself.
Rain began to patter in the trees and the wind picked up. Dewey dialed Ichiro and the call went directly to voicemail. “Ugh. He’s not picking up.” Dewey said as he slid his phone into his pocket. “Listen, Alexx, I've known Ichiro a wicked long time. He'll get over it. He’d be a dope not to.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It’ll be okay.”
Trips handed Dewey his Firefighter’s helmet as Alexx opened her car door. “Dewey, you're not the problem. It's me. I'm the problem. He's blaming me, not you, okay? You're fine.” She grabbed her nun-chucks and bat from the floor, and slammed the door. “Just...leave me alone!”
“Shh!” Trips said, frowning at her. “Don’t raise your voice. You’ll attract them, and you're in no condition to do this. You should stay here or you’ll be putting everybody in jeopardy.” Trips shouldered his sword as big droplets of rain pattered against the car roof and into their faces. He shivered from the cold.
“What do you care?” Alexx asked, wiping her face and scowling at Trips as she skipped away just out of reach.
Trips followed. “Ally, get in the car!” He pointed at the car. The rain picked up. “Look, if not for your own safety, then know that I've got a pretty keen sense of self preservation, and I'm not going in there with you. Not like this.”
“Fine. I'll do it my fucking self,” Alexx reeled around and ran at top speed into the cemetery.
Trips turned back toward Dewey and Snake. “Uh, guys? We've got a situation.”
Dewey tilted his helmeted head down and raised his arms out. “Trips? I don't think I can ride a bike.” He sounded nasal through the helmet. “Even if I forget the coat, the helmet and pack make it too bulky.”
Trips squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes as a gust of freezing rain smacked his face. “Fucking fantastic.”
Chapter 31: Follow The Banshee
A glaze of ice was forming over everything as Trips paced the slick asphalt. Snake glanced from Dewey to Trips. “Really? That’s it?” He shivered, huddled behind Alexx’s car in the sleet. “That’s the plan? Follow the Banshee?”
“Do we have a choice?” Trips snapped. He wiped a raindrop from his phone with his thumb. “Alexx's blip is moving fast through the forest. I have a bead on her, but the phone’s going to glitch out in this weather. We’ve got to go, Dewey. Stop fucking around.”
Snake raised his right hand in the air leaning on the car. “Man, cut him some slack. He’s had like all of twenty minutes to learn to use that thing.”
“Well then, don’t bloody use it if it’s too hard. We’re going to lose her,” Trips grumbled.
“I got it. I got it.” Dewey held his hands out in front of him like he was learning to walk. “I can do it on the helmet thing. I just got to...” He trailed off, looking cross-eyed behind the glass mask.
Trips rolled his eyes and squared Dewey’s shoulders toward the c
emetery gate. “Can you walk, and do it? Let’s move.”
The three of them fell into a skein-v formation. Trips led in the center tracking Alexx through his phone with Dewey and Snake just behind him. The rain was gentler in the forested area of the cemetery and the soft carpet of pine needles muffled their footfall. Trips inhaled, worried that wet forest floor would mask the smell of the undead like so much pine disinfectant. Icy gusts cut in from the north, and the rescue party bowed their heads against the chill in the grave yard.
“Dewey, change your settings, I can hear you breathing,” Snake said through the intercom.
“Sorry. Better?” Dewey asked, adjusting for the new software in his helmet. Beyond the Egyptian revival gateway, water gushed down the slope like it was spring melt. Dewey pointed in that direction. “Dude, I've got her on my visor. She’s up there. You can put your phone away.”
“Take the lead,” Trips whispered, sliding his phone into his pocket, and trading places with Dewey. They took a hard left up a steeper muddy embankment that wasn’t a river.
“Jesus, she's heading straight for the tower,” Dewey said. “Can you even get in there?”
“Man, we never talked about the tower,” Snake said. “We’re supposed to do the chapel.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Dewey said, glancing over his shoulder at Snake.
“Shh, what was that? Did you hear that?” Trips asked. They all froze, looking around and listening intently. There was the rustle of falling leaves, and the patter of rain. They held their breath as something rustled. The three of them raised their weapons as a ground squirrel darted out from behind a tombstone. Trips grabbed his chest, lowering his blade. Oi, get a grip, Kentigern.
“This way,” Dewey said. “Wadsworth and Dearborn designed this cemetery twenty-five years before Olmsted even started. Inspired by Pere LaChaise, outside of Paris.”
Trips clenched his jaw and turned toward Dewey as rain swept through, stinging his face. “All very interesting, I'm sure, but can we leave the dissertation on landscape design until later?”
“Sorry,” Dewey whispered. “I’ll shut up.”
They trudged up the embankment until they came upon an old military section of the cemetery. Most of the graves had flags in front of them. “Veteran’s day’s coming. Somewhere in here is the commander from 'Glory.' Total rebels, Grand-père said.” Snake noted, peering at a commemorative statue, “Imagine, a white guy leading a bunch of black guys.”
“They were Union soldiers,” Dewey nodded as they passed the Sphinx.
“Yeah, I know, U.S. Civil. Not the Revolutionary, Northwest Indian, or the First Barbary.”
“Can we focus? Please?” Trips sighed, taking out his phone.
“Or the War of 1812, or the Spanish-American. Not to be confused with the Mexican American,” Dewey said, swiping rain from his visor. “A lot of freaking wars.”
“Would you guys cut the crap?” Trips said, taking the lead.
“Put your phone away, dude. I got it. Matthew Broderick was not a bad choice for that role. I wouldn't have called it. Good flick, though.” Dewey gave Trips a sideways glance. “Chill, Trips. She can handle herself and we’ll find her. Okay?”
They walked in formation up the narrow paths to the foot of Tower Hill. “This typically takes an hour-and-a-half, you know.” Dewey panted, taking off his pack and pushing up his faceplate.
“If you're an old lady or a freakin' tour guide.” Trips grimaced, as he checked his equipment.
“We did it in less than twenty, and you're not even winded? Fucking drummers.” Dewey sighed, opening his pack.
“I'm going to go scout ahead. She's up there, Dew, man?” Snake nodded toward the tower.
“Yeah, her phone is, anyway,” Dewey took a long haul on a water bottle, then offered it to Snake.
“She’s probably up there leaning on the tower, crying or kicking the shit out of it.” Snake drank from the water bottle, then handed it to Trips who finished it and put the empty in his messenger’s bag.
Snake was half way up the steep incline when Dewey slapped his visor down. “You guys make me feel old.”
Trips stifled a sigh. He knew he was being impatient. I should have gone to fetch her alone. Would have been faster. He bounced his leg as he checked his phone. Alexx’s blip was still on top of Tower Hill. It hadn’t moved. He stashed the phone. Dewey is right. She’ll have calmed down and it’ll be okay. Everything was quiet, except for the wind and the rain. Then came the blood-curdling scream. Dewey and Trips automatically stood back-to-back weapons drawn. “Visor?”
Dewey hesitated. “Uh, um.”
“Whatcha got?” Trips yelled. “Report!”
“Nothing!” Dewey twirled the axe in his grip. “I’ve got nothing. Alexx and Snake, they’re both just gone, man!”
There was another blood-curdling scream, but Trips couldn’t pinpoint its location. “Where’s it coming from? It’s got to be from up there.”
“It’s not on my screen, but Trips, I see movement down there.” Dewey pointed at a blotch of darker trees that changed from forest into a massive line of zombies lumbering toward them.
“Oi, up we go, then. Eh, Dewey?” Trips said, running up ahead and then circling back around to stick beside Dewey. “C’mon, you old geezer! Get a move on. You need to quit smoking, is what it is!”
“Don't you start with me,” Dewey said, as he slung on the knapsack.
“Give me the pack!”
“I don't have cigarettes with me, asshole!” Dewey scowled, lumbering up the hill.
“Your rucksack,” Trips said. There was another scream. They shot a startled look toward the tower, looming above them.
“Run ahead,” Dewey said, pointing with his axe. “Go on!”
Trips shook his head. “No. We stick together. The pack, give, now.” Trips uncocked the safety on his wrist rocket then slid the bag onto his back and tightened the straps.
“I should take the pack, and you should run ahead.” Dewey grabbed onto a wet tree root pulling himself up the ridge.
“I'm a git for letting Snake go off on his own. Better? Let's move.”
As they scrambled up the slick hill, Dewey yanked Trips and shoved him down into the shrubbery just as they closed in on the clearing by the top. “Look!”
Above them, Alexx was silhouetted against the stormy sky on the balcony of the tower which looked like a giant rook to Trips. She faltered in the sheeting rain, holding onto the slick granite edifice. Dark figures crawled out of the windows. Dewey was about to cry out, when Trips slapped his large hand over his mouth.
They looked at each other, then back up at Alexx. They held their breath, watching her recover with a kick over the metal rung. She smacked a vampire with her nun-chucks and it fell off the ledge. Several arrows buzzed by picking off the ones closing in on her. Trips breathed, “That’s Snake.”
Dewey nodded as Alexx crossed out of view. More figures appeared climbing up the sheer granite block face. They heard breaking glass and another blood curdling scream and beat-it up to the clearing.
Dewey inhaled to yell, and Trips slapped his hand over his mouth again. He hissed through his teeth. “Shut it!”
“Sorry, sorry. Okay, I counted fourteen on this side of the tower. They’re vampires, obviously.” Dewey said, breathing heavily.
“Yeah, I noticed, Dew. Let’s stay down.” They hid in the shrubbery on their bellies and sank into the fridged mud, a lake forming around them. Stinging needles of sleet were making their faces and hands numb. “What do we do?”
“They're following her. She's boxed in. We have to get up there.” Dewey tugged at the pack on Trips’ back.
Trips slipped out of the straps. “You’ve got a rope?”
“Better. A zip-line and grappling hook,” Dewey said, with a grin.
Trips rolled into a squat. “Cool.”
More vampires crawled up the granite block tower, crowding on the ledge of the rook chess piece. “She’s doing okay, but
they’re like frigging termites. Where’re they coming from?” Dewey looked across the clearing into the trees. “Speaking of, where the hell is Snake?”
“Don't yell,” Trips warned, scanning as zombies shambled into the clearing. “Look who’s joined the party.”
“I wasn't going to yell,” Dewey said, fixing up the zip-line.
“Just saying, don't yell.”
“What do you weigh?”
“What do I weigh? Um, well, like, what, like, right now?” Trips asked, hesitating.
“Yeah, Trips, what do you weigh? It's not rocket science, Mr. Wizard.” Dewey attached the cable grabs to the grappling hook.
“Why?”
Dewey gave him a look.
“Ah, maybe eleven and a half, twelve stone.” Trips shrugged.
“What the hell is that?” Dewey adjusted the turnbuckle. “C’mon, Trips.”
“Like, maybe one-seventy...five...maybe less...a lot less...why?” Trips grimaced.
“God. Really? And how tall are you?”
“I don't know... What is this? The inquisition?”
“You're almost as tall as me, aren't you? I'm six-four.”
“Geesh, Dewey, I'm six-three, and I'm one-sixty. All right? Happy now? Who are you, my mother?” Trips asked, pulling his nose, and exhaling hard.
“One-sixty?” Dewey bounced into a squat and put the pack on his back. “You sick? Something you need to tell me, bro?”
“What? No! It's genetic. I have a really fast metabolism.”
“Wish I had that problem,” Dewey said, smiling.
“No, you don't, believe me.”
“We can strap in together. It'll be faster.” Dewey stood up and attached the cable sling to the zip-line and the grappling hook.
“What?” Trips stood up. The zombies were milling around examining the dead vampires in the puddles forming around the base of the tower.
“Dude, I'm two-thirty, you're one-sixty that's three-ninety, the thing can support up to four-fifty – with our gear. I think we're there. We don't have time, and you've never done this, so we're going together. No argument,” Dewey said, firmly. “Shit, they smell bad.”
Boston Under Siege (Book 1): Virus: Page 19