Boston Under Siege (Book 1): Virus:

by Willson, Fisher

  “Strapped together?”

  “Yeah, in the sling together.” Dewey held up the yellow netting.

  Trips gulped. “Dude, I don't want my junk anywhere near your junk, okay?”

  “You're such a retard, you and Ichiro both. Completely and utterly retahded. Oh, pardon me, mentally challenged.” Dewey pulled the galvanized aircraft cable off the small spool attaching the trolley break and pulley. “Ichiro has this amazing woman who loves him and he's –”

  There was another blood-curdling scream. Trips looked up. “Who's getting murdered!”

  “Cover me!” Dewey swung the grappling hook in giant strokes through the torrential rain, gaining momentum as the first wave of zombies noticed them on the plateau. A pass of the hook sent a zombie sprawling to the ground. “Shit. Got to go again.”

  The airport had been bad, but the rain made it even worse. Trips flailed in the crowd, hitting anywhere and anything until he gained some distance, and then effortlessly, his mind began geometric calculations for efficiency and effectiveness. He would strike a zombie, lining up the blow so that it would knock others behind it backwards and give him precious seconds to find his next hit. It was like playing zombie pool in slow motion. He wasn’t aware of the hyper clarity until Dewey grabbed him from the horde and threw the yellow harness around him, jarring him back into real time. Dewey let go of the small steel claw high in the air. It smacked onto the ornamental wrought iron railing, and the zip-line unfurled in a whirring hiss of spraying water as a feeling of elevated g-force came over Trips, and they zipped up to the top of the tower. Dewey landed them and released their bindings without any wasted moves.

  “That was incredible,” Trips said, breathlessly, as they stood back-to-back knocking vampires off the ledge.

  More were crawling up the wall. A vampire clawed at Dewey’s ankle. He shook it off over the lip of the balcony. More vampires scurried out onto the ledge, as zombies moaned, reaching up from far below. Dewey stomped his steel-toed boots along knuckles and elbows and dropped his fire-axe through skulls. The bodies plummeted and slapped the rainwater lake at the foot of the tower as Trips plunged his sword into chests and sliced off limbs, throwing the creatures from the ledge without compunction.

  Dewey and Trips turned their faces to the wall and caught their breath as a torrent of freezing rain swept over them. A new wave of vampires rounded the rain-slicked balcony, and Trips lost his footing, falling over the balcony. “A little help over here!”

  Dewey glanced down, staving off the entire horde alone. “What are you doing down there? Get up here.”

  The hilt of Trips’ sword caught the railing, leaving him dangling precariously. “Don’t mind me. Just hanging around.”

  Dewey kicked the yellow webbing of the harness onto Trips’ head. “Oh, that's just grand. Very helpful.”

  Dewey cast his axe in a wide circle, creating space as Trips tried to lob a leg over the ledge. The break on the zip-line wasn’t holding. Trips swung an elbow over the railing, as the creatures gathered below. “Pull me up, please!”

  “You're fine,” Dewey said as he chopped off the head of a vampire. He jammed his elbow into one behind him. “I'm busy at the moment.” The pick-axe scraped the granite, creating sparks as he stomped on more knuckles and flipped one over the balcony. Trips flailed his sword, trying to get the hilt to catch on the railing. He missed, sinking lower as his sword clipped the Achilles tendon of a faltering vampire. “Thanks!”

  “Don't mention it,” Trips said, as his toe jammed into the mortar of one of the stone blocks. A vampire lunged at him. Trips lost his foothold and scrambled, brandishing his sword. He watched the vampire fall to the ground. “Hah! Gotcha! Help!”

  Dewey grasped the yellow netting and pulled. Trips got both arms over the railing as his sword made shish kabob of a vampire. He shook it off as another torrent of biting rain hit and Dewey went back to the business at hand.

  “Hurry up! I'm tired of hanging around, waiting for you!” Trips yelled, both elbows hooked over the railing as he kicked. The last remaining vampire dispatched, Dewey squatted down and grabbed Trips under his arms and hoisted him up. “Took you long enough.”

  They checked their handiwork then rounded the tower to the other side. Dewey nodded, looking from his helmet screen to Trips. “Well, that’s where they’re coming from.”

  “Deduce that yourself, did you?” Trips asked, raising his shoulders.

  Dewey rolled his axe. “After you.”

  “Oh, why, thank you.” Trips turned and bowed his head.

  “Not at all, I'm sure,” Dewey said, with a courtly flourish.

  “Jerkus.”

  “He's your roommate's girlfriend.”

  “You flirted with her!”

  They locked eyes through Dewey’s faceplate.

  Trips rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay, sorry.” He took a step into the dark stairwell. “Ew. It smells like ass. Got a torch?”

  Dewey cocked his neck and made a face. “What are you, a villager?”

  “Yeah, YMCA. A light.” Trips snapped his fingers. “A whatcha-call-it, flashlight?”

  “At least it's not wet. Go.” Dewey turned on his headlamp and nudged Trips down the stairs.

  “Don’t push.” Trips scowled. “No fair pushing.”

  “There's a passage below ground,” Dewey said, reading the information from Ichiro's sensory software as they clomped down the winding granite stairs. He handed Trips a large black metal flashlight from a loop inside his coat. “Hey, here you go.”

  “Thanks,” Trips said, as he slid his hand down the wall where the iron railing was missing. “What else is down there?”

  “There's an undercroft and a well. Looks like late eighteenth-century re-construction. The floor was lowered, and the existing vaults were replaced with brick. It’s not slab and timber anymore. The passage goes to that building.” Dewey pointed out the turret window to the stone facing in the mound of earth. “See out there, side of the hill?”

  “Yeah.” Trips shined his light down to the bottom of the staircase. “Um, Dewey? Where'd all the vampires go?”

  “I think we're about to find out,” Dewey said, as they stepped onto the floor. He held his axe at the ready and nodded at Trips.

  “Here goes,” Trips said, as he punched the depression in the wall. There was a hiss and the screech of scraping stone. Dewey put his hand on the iron ring in the floor to open the door completely. “No, wait. I'll go first.”

  Dewey took his hand off the door handle. “What? Why? It's my turn.”

  “You've got kids. Look, Dewey, you know, if it comes to it – tell Ami, I love her.” Trips steeled himself. “Okay. Pull it!”

  Dewey pulled the handle, and a rush of cold, putrid air greeted them. They heard sub-human hissing in the depths below. Trips exhaled. “What I'd give for a rifle with silver bullets right about now.”

  “That's werewolves, no such thing as werewolves.”

  “Aye, but I’ve lived on the moors.” Trips charged down the dank stairs with Dewey’s flashlight jammed through a loop in the backpack. The puddle of light spun around the room as he cleaved wave upon wave of clawing hands, foul mouths, and blank clouded eyes. Sparks flew from his sword as it clanged against the granite enclosure.

  A moment later, Dewey's headlamp blazed into the chamber. The creatures retreated, back into the darkness beyond. Trips clomped to the stairs and greeted Dewey. “Seems the welcoming committee mostly dispersed from whence they came. You scared them with your mighty light.”

  “And you went berserker on ‘em,” Dewey said, surveying the carnage as he entered the room. He glanced at the walls and changed the spray of light from his headlamps. The whole chamber lit up with a faint glow. “Wow, it's like an ossuary down here.” Dewey fished a small flashlight from his pocket and examined the delicate candleholders made of finger joints and the scapula chandelier, then directed the beam of light down the long passageway. Skulls lined the walls on either side. “How
many were here, could you tell?”

  “About a million,” Trips shrugged, “million and a half.” He bent down to pull a wrist rocket rod from a vampire’s eye with a disturbing pop. “What is this? A sleeping chamber?”

  “I don’t know. It's pretty ancient, though, predates the cemetery,” Dewey said, closing in on wall markings to examine with his flashlight.

  Trips searched for more wrist rocket ammo. As he added them to the wrist rocket, there was a gentle whirr of the machine reseating the steel rods.

  Dewey stood in front of a wall mosaic, drinking a bottle of water. “Check it out. Over here.” Trips joined him, cocking his head to the side. “Masons.” Dewey smiled. “It’s temple notation. See the square above the death head with the plumb-line?”

  Trips nodded, raising an eyebrow as he crossed his arms.

  “It means man's mortality.” Dewey glanced at Trips. “The moth is the symbol of the soul. The wheel at the center?”

  Trips shifted and pointed at the brown blob with yellow lines in the center of the mosaic. “The pie? Yeah?”

  “The cycle of life. The spokes are the flow of a good life. On the right, you have the staff, the robe, and wallet of the wanderer which symbolizes the transitory nature of life – to the left – the spear, the purple robe, and golden cord of the conqueror – the rewards of a life well spent.”

  “Mm. I hoped it meant 'pie served here.' I'm starving.” Trips rifled through his bag. “Should have some energy bars in here. Should be nice and stale. Extra crispy.” He unwrapped a bar and shoved it in his mouth. “You want one?”

  Dewey grunted in the negative and passed the water bottle to Trips.

  Trips pulled out his phone. “You know, I’ve got this thing from Ich.” He turned his attention to Ichiro's wrist rocket as he chewed. “He put a closed-circuit camera on the end of one of these rods.”

  “Wow, look at this one.” Dewey glanced at Trips. Trips slowed his chewing and looked at where Dewey was pointing. “See, the skull has one ear placed near the staff – meaning listen to the needs of the distressed to find your way to just rewards. The whole thing is a symbol of life, death, and immortality, or at least rebirth and reincarnation. It’s just amazing.”

  “Aye, amaze balls. You’re just a font of useless information, aren't you?” Trips shot one of the TV camera arrows into the far corner of the room. “You should get in touch with the university, if we live that long.”

  Dewey chuckled. “Sorry, I know I go on a bit, but it’s ‘cause of my family history. My grandfather was a Mason, and my grandmother was an Eastern Star,” Dewey shrugged. “Also, I read a bunch of books about Masonic symbolism. Interesting stuff for esoterica.”

  “Dewey you're a remarkable fellow,” Trips said, adjusting his gear as he finished his snack.

  “Turn around.” Trips turned around so Dewey could get to the knapsack. “The Scottish Rite Museum is right down the road from me. You should check it out.” Trips grumbled in acknowledgement as Dewey rummaged through the pack. Trips tested the video feed from the camera arrow. “I’ve got something for you. Oh, and you’ll like this. The 'G' at the top of that mosaic is for God or Geometry – the ultimate architect.”

  “Cool. So, are you saying that God is Geometry? I can dig that. Descartes went a little crazy after he wrote The Geometry, just like Einstein and all his unified theory stuff. String theory is just stringing us along. Brilliant and mad.”

  Dewey handed Trips night vision goggles. “Here, infrared.”

  “Wow. Cool.” Trips stuffed his phone in his pocket and strapped on the goggles.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll show you in a sec. Did you take the stink – that deer musk? I can't find it.”

  “Ooh, good idea. Might be in my pouch.” Trips found the small bottle of musk in a zippered pocket. “Oi, rank!”

  Trips opened the bottle wrinkling his nose. “Smells worse than zombies, practically.” He splashed it on his crotch, and under his arms and handed the bottle of deer musk to Dewey.

  Dewey grimaced. He pushed a button on the goggles on Trips’ head then covered himself with stink. “Try the goggles.”

  Trips pulled them into place over his eyes. “Weird, your eyes are, like, white. Wonder how vampires will look.”

  “Good question.” Dewey dropped the deer musk into a side pocket on the knapsack and cinched it closed. “I’ll turn off my lamp, so you can see better.” Dewey turned off his helmet headlamp and closed his visor, engaging the infrared field in the helmet. “You good?”

  Trips was breathing hard. He chuckled. It’s phenomenal. “This is outstanding.” Trips recited the readout on the side of the screen as he walked into the center of the room. Everything had a green halo. “So IR, that’s for no light situations?”

  “Yeah, you can switch it to ATN, for low light; click your right temple,” Dewey said, turning on a low-level light.

  Trips clicked it back and forth. “Incredible. It's like a spot light, absolutely crystal clear -- can aim, no problem,” Trips aimed the wrist rocket’s laser beam in between the eyes of the skull in the mosaic. His shot was dead-on, leaving the camera in place.

  “Do you want me to take the knapsack for a while?” Dewey asked.

  “Nah, I'm good.” Trips adjusted the pack on his shoulders and took the lead. They tip-toed down the hallway lined with skulls. Their lights revealed shallow chambers piled high with a lacy patchwork of bones. At the end of the hall, three small steps led into a vestibule with flying buttresses and spiral staircases on either side of ornate white columns.

  “Wow, early gothic, like a medieval church. Maybe this was a chapel,” Dewey said, looking up at the ceiling.

  Trips adjusted his night vision goggles and leaned over the banister. “Wow. Hexagonal landings and inlayed geometric patterns in some kind of shiny stuff.”

  “Metal, probably brass.”

  “Which way, Dewey? Straight on, or down?”

  Dewey nodded toward the massive wooden door with iron strapping. “Straight ahead. There are people in there with heartbeats on the scope.”

  “Do we have that bat shield thing?”

  Dewey shook his head. “No. Snake has that.”

  Trips couldn’t see Dewey through his IR lens, his helmet’s mask registered as black glass. “Can you discern vampires or zombies?”

  “No, I can't discern heat signatures. Phh. Discern.” Dewey took his axe out of its holder.

  “What? What's wrong with discern?” Trips frowned, pulling his sword from the scabbard.

  “Trips, look. Just…I wouldn't be surprised if it's another mosh pit in there, if we can even get in. Okay?” Dewey put his hand on the door handle. “You ready?”

  Trips crouched and raised his sword. He nodded.

  Dewey raised his fire-axe and turned the handle. Surprisingly, the door opened, and they spiraled into the room back-to-back.

  Cold flesh pressed into them as they wielded their weapons in broad arcs. They created space around them. Slop and body parts flew as they chopped through their surroundings. Trips got caught in a blood slick, and separated from Dewey. He grappled with a vampire until he bushwhacked his way through the crowd back to Dewey.

  Dewey yelped as a clammy hand gripped his shoulder. Trips tried to pry the creature from him. “It’s like a vice.”

  “Get off of me.” Dewey slammed his elbow into the grey-green face. The creature slackened against him, still clinging to his shoulder as rotten brain matter dripped down his slicker.

  Trips pried the zombie hand away with a shudder. They caught their breath standing back-to-back and maintained their distance from the onslaught. Dewey sighed. “Yeah, maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.”

  “What?” Trips turned to look at the black glass facemask. “This is fun! A little dub-step and you've got yourself a club. But they're clingy, this lot.” He whacked a zombie back.

  “Yeah, and they don't even offer to buy you a drink first,” Dewey said, cracking a skull with his axe. “O
r nothing.”

  “I saved the last dance for you.” Trips said finishing off the zombie he’d whacked a moment ago.

  “Aw, ain't that special.” Dewey crammed an arm bone down the mouth of an on another coming at him. The hand stuck out of its gullet.

  Breathing hard, Trips looked around at the tiled vaulted ceilings of the enormous expanse. Could be a fancy parking garage for Romans. “So, what’s this room? The ballroom?”

  “The room for newly made zombies? Perhaps that sleeping chamber you're so charmed by? How the fuck should I know?” Dewey said, slapping at zombies with his axe.

  “Cheeky, you.” Trips said to Dewey, when he thought he saw Alexx and Snake pop up from behind the Invisa-shield. “Hey! It’s them.”

  “What?” Dewey asked, clobbering a vampire with the back of his axe.

  Trips looked again, and they had disappeared. “I just saw…”

  Swiftly, an invisible force plowed a path straight to them, knocking zombies left and right. Snake whispered, “Nice of you to join us.”

  “God, you stink!” Alexx said wedging between Trips and Dewey in formation. The four of them stood together back-to-back invisible on one side, but surrounded by slobbering zombies on the other three sides.

  “Good to see you, too. It’s eau de deer musk so that the zombies won't notice us,” Trips said.

  “How's that working for you?” Snake quipped as he dispatched a zombie using an arrow like a poker over Trips shoulder.

  Alexx jumped in, “Remind me never to get that brand.”

  “So what's the plan?” Trips asked as he jabbed his sword into a zombie ear. He nudged the party toward the two doors to the side. They began to shuffle toward one of the doors. We need to get out of this zombie hell-hole.

  “We need a freaking plan?” Alexx swat at a zombie with a rusty sword. “How about we get the fuck out of here?”

  “It's his way of saying 'Gee Scooter, let's find those we came to rescue and skedaddle.'” Dewey grunted as he severed a zombie diagonally. “Where’d you get that sword Ally?”