by White, Ben
"Zed?"
"I'm good! Damn close, though! Where the hell'd that little booger come from?"
"I see the entrance! We are close!"
"Just keep on running!"
"You do not have to tell me!"
Light suddenly exploded around Imogen, it wasn't anywhere near bright but she squeezed her eyes shut at the shock of it, and she bit her tongue as Zed thundered down the stairs, she could hear him muttering—
"Better damn not be any down here better DAMN not be—"
And then stillness, recovery, heavy breathing from everyone—
"More!"
Zed had to put Imogen down, and Chris lowered Zack to the floor—Imogen could see her brother was near to fainting—and HK was there, leaning hard against a wall, his face pale, and Cheena ... Cheena was striding forward, her breathing measured, her staff held firm in both hands.
"Watch the stairs," she said, not looking back. "They will come down. Move forward behind me, yes?"
The corridor they were in was wide, not a thoroughfare but close to it, benches against the walls, advertising-covered supports down the centre, everything gleaming with that greenish tint from the chemical lights. Zombies lurched towards them from around the supports, more than a dozen, and Cheena called to them as she attacked:
"Do not misjudge me! I am no weak-willed girl! I am no slight little thing with no fire in my blood! I am Allecchina the harlequin princess, and I am the unhappy end to your tragic story!"
Imogen stared as Cheena whirled and leapt and struck, her staff a blur as she drove it against zombie after zombie—its length meant she had no need to get close, could keep them at a distance, and yet again and again she closed with the zombies to more effectively drive them back, to stop them from getting to the others. After half a minute spent getting his breath back Zed took his bat from HK and moved forward to join Cheena, but by then the fight was all but over; the zombies lay on the ground, herded towards the right side of the corridor. Without a cutting edge or the strength to break bones Cheena had not crippled any of them, but that didn't matter. The left side of the passage was clear.
"Feel like I'm late to the party here," Zed said, before knocking down the last zombie. "That was a hell of a show, darlin'. Hell of a show."
Cheena straightened and twirled her pole to rest behind her back. "Thank you," she said, with the graciousness of a princess.
"They're coming from behind!" Chris called, walking back from the stairs. "They've crowded the top and are beginning to fall. I wish I could say that watching them was entertaining."
"Where's Null?" HK said, suddenly. "She was with you guys, where is she?"
"Hell," Zed growled, as he looked around. "Any of you seen her? You see her come down? Aw, hell, HELL, damn it all, just GOD DAMN IT!"
Imogen and the others stared as Zed drove his fist against the wall. He breathed hard, in and out through his teeth, then pushed himself off and pointed his bat down the corridor.
"Forward," he commanded. "Keep heading forward and god-DAMN if I'm losing anyone else. NOW!"
There was silence after that, nervous silence, exhausted silence, angry silence, scared silence. Imogen limped along on her own, HopeKiller clutched tight in both hands, barely aware of the ache in her body or the pain in her legs, or even the shuffling gait she had to adopt in order to walk at all. Zed was ahead of them, striding forwards, every step taking him further apart—
"GRRRRAAAAARRR!" he screamed, charging the zombie that had just come into view, driving his bat against its face so hard that its neck tore and its head snapped loose. That wasn't enough for him, though. That wasn't near enough.
It took both Chris and Cheena to pull him away, stomping and screaming and swearing at the stricken zombie, its arms shattered, its face pulped, still twitching where it lay. Zed's boots and hands were covered in the oozing filth that served as the zombie's blood, and his face and poncho were splattered brown.
"No more," he growled, staring around at the others with wild eyes. "Ain't gonna let no more of you get left behind. And I'm gonna kill every STINKING one of these things I see, god help me I SWEAR it!"
He looked sharply at Imogen as she touched his arm.
"My leg hurts," she said, flatly. "Help me walk."
Zed stared at her.
Imogen stared back.
"Yeah," Zed said, his shoulders untensing, his eyes clearing, his voice rough. He coughed. "Yeah, sure. Just grab my arm there, Sue darlin'. Just you grab my arm."
The corridor was clear, after that—at least until they came to the main thoroughfare. The first difference was obvious.
"These are not chemical lights," Cheena said, frowning up at them. "If there is no power—"
"Then we'll be blind," said Zed. He let go of Imogen to get out his penlight; after a moment's thought he handed it to HK. "Won't give us much, but it's sure as hell better than nothing."
The thoroughfare was wide with a low ceiling, benches and flower beds and the occasional small shop at its sides—the winds hadn't reached down here at all, and nothing was disturbed. It smelt fresh and clear, and of zombies there was not a trace.
"Hold up a moment," HK called, as they passed a clothes shop. The door was open and it only took him a minute to go in and then come out again, brandishing a thick, shiny metal pole. "From a clothes rack," he explained. "I figure keeping those things from getting close is what's important—when you fight them, I mean."
After ten minutes or so they came to a 'dip'; the thoroughfare suddenly dropped away, down steep stairs. There was a flat area of around a dozen metres at the bottom, then more stairs going up, shorter than those going down. Getting Imogen down and then up was something of a chore, and Chris had to help Zack, but the first dip represented nothing more than a speed bump, a minor obstacle.
The second dip presented more of a challenge. The flat area at the bottom was crowded with zombies.
"Like a natural damn trap," Zed murmured as he looked down. "No wonder there ain't none around back there."
"I will clear them," Cheena said. She already held her staff in a combat grip. "Like before."
"I'll go down with ya," said Zed. "Figure you'll—"
"No." Cheena's voice was crisp and commanding. "You stay here. In case ... in case. I can do it myself. These things are not so frightening."
"I'll help," said HK. "I ... I want to do something to help, too. You shouldn't have to do it alone."
Cheena looked at him, her eyes cold behind black and yellow diamonds, then nodded. "Follow my commands. Do not disobey."
"No ma'am!"
Imogen watched as the two of them made their way down.
"It's so easy to forget," came Chris's voice, quiet and thoughtful, as Cheena pushed the nearest zombie over, as HK shoved another back. "So easy to forget how dangerous these things are. One bite. One scratch. That's all it takes. One claw around your—" he cut himself off with a small gasp, as HK stumbled back and fell, as zombies closed on him—but Cheena was there to drive them away, sweeping her staff around and stopping them from getting to HK before he could recover his footing. Chris cleared his throat. "One tiny mistake," he said. "That's all it would take."
Imogen glanced at Zack—he was leaning against Chris, the older boy's hand on his shoulder. He wasn't looking at anything.
"Yeah!" HK's triumphant cry came up from below. "That's how it's done! Cheena, you the man!"
Imogen looked down and almost smiled as she saw HK raising his hand for a high-five. Cheena regarded it for a moment, then she touched the end of her staff against his palm.
"It is clear," she called up. "They are herded to the left and none of them are standing."
"You know, once you get over that initial 'AH! ZOMBIES!' thing, they aren't so tough," said HK, as the others made their way down, Zed helping Imogen, Chris helping Zack.
"Don't go underestimating them," said Zed—his voice was low, soft with weariness. "Y'all know what they can do." He glanced over at the dow
ned zombies to the side of the 'dip'. "They've done taken out more'n half of us already—hell, taken out most of the damn city. That's how tough they are."
"Yeah, well ... crap. Thanks for bringing me down."
Zed didn't reply. He was looking at Zack, at the way the boy was dragging himself along.
"Chris, go on and help Sue—"
"I will do it," Cheena said, handing her staff to Chris. Imogen looked up at Cheena as she came close.
"Thank you," she said. "Thank you for doing that."
"It is what needed to be done, no more." Cheena took Imogen's arm. "You have done as much as I have, with that clever bat of yours."
As Imogen and Cheena had talked, Zed had passed his bat to HK and walked over to Zack. Without saying anything he scooped the boy into his strong arms.
"Now you've done just about as much as anyone could ask of you," Zed said, as Zack stared up at him with dull eyes, "and I'm proud of you for it, and your sister's proud too, ain't ya Sue?"
"Really proud," Imogen said, smiling over at her brother. "You've done well, Spack."
That he didn't respond to the hated nickname sparked fear in Imogen, but she pushed this down.
"Matter of fact, we're all proud of you," Zed continued. "And I reckon you've earned yourself a bit of rest. So you just go on and close your eyes if you feel the need, son, ain't no one gonna think less of you for it."
As Imogen watched Zack closed his eyes, and a moment later went limp in Zed's arms, his face calm.
"Good boy," Zed murmured, as he carried Zack up the stairs. "Good god-damned boy."
The thoroughfare ahead was narrower than before, but clear. There were no shops at the sides, no flower beds, just a plain, long corridor sloping subtly upwards.
"We must be getting close," Cheena said. Imogen heard both hope and weariness in the girl's voice. "The station must be near."
"Hey, Cheens," said HK, hanging back to match Cheena and Imogen's pace. "I got to ask you, what martial art is that, with the staff? Because you are DEADLY, girl!"
Cheena glanced at HK, her expression cool, but as she looked ahead her calm mask cracked a little, and she smiled.
"Pole dancing."
HK and Imogen both stared at her.
"You mean—"
"No, not like that, you low-minded imbecile," Cheena said, her usual coldness returning. "For fitness, for exercise. As for my staff ... I take my characters seriously. You may have noticed."
"No doubt," said HK. He glanced at Imogen, then coughed. "I'll go ahead a little, maybe 'scout'. I'm, uh, I'm kind of getting into this whole thing now."
Imogen and Cheena both watched as HK walked briskly ahead.
"He is scared," Cheena said, quietly. Imogen nodded in agreement. "How old, do you think? Fifteen? Younger?"
"I don't know. Does it matter?"
"No. It does not."
Imogen half-glanced at Cheena. "How old are you?"
"As old as my tongue. Just a little older than my teeth." She glanced at Imogen. "I am nineteen. Two months from being twenty."
"Your ... your sister, you said about her before. Bailey."
"Bailey? No, my sister's name is Kim. Why would you say Bailey?"
"I just thought ... I don't know. She's younger than you?"
"By less than one year. We are almost twins." Cheena half-smiled, and she reached up to lightly touch the yellow diamond that covered her left eye, an odd gesture. "But we do not look anything alike."
"You must—"
Imogen's words caught in her mouth. She felt suddenly, utterly hollow, sick almost to the point of throwing up.
"What is wrong?" Cheena asked. Imogen had stopped, was just staring at her. She tried to talk but nothing came out, and so she just stood there, frozen, unable to do anything but stare at Cheena's wrist.
The girl wore gloves, one black, one yellow, made of silk or something similar. Her arms were covered by tight black and yellow fabric. But there was an inch between sleeve and glove ... and on Cheena's right wrist there was a tiny red scratch smeared with brown.
"No." Cheena had followed Imogen's gaze and was staring at the wound. "No, I did not ... I could not have ..."
The skin around the scratch was dry, and the wound gently wept, thin and yellow.
"But I do not feel ... I am not ..."
"Something wrong back there?" Zed was walking back, Zack still held in his arms. Chris and HK were behind him, both stopped, both looking back. Cheena stared up at Imogen, pleading in her eyes.
"I'm sorry," Imogen whispered. "I'm so sorry."
"Aw, hell. Ah, HELL."
"It might not be!" Cheena's voice was high with sudden desperation, tears flowing down her perfectly made-up face. "We do not know, we don't know, we don't ... I might be ... I might ..."
She pulled away from Imogen but then did nothing, just stood there, her hands half-raised as if to cover her face, still staring at the tiny, deadly scratch.
"Allecchina, honey—"
"I have to get home. I have to. She'll be waiting for me—if I don't get home then ... then ... I HAVE to get home! I HAVE TO!"
"Look," Zed said, "I know ... I know I said—"
"No! NO! I will not be one of those things! You can't let me ... you cannot let me become ..."
Cheena sank to the floor, her face buried in her hands as she collapsed into long, heaving, desperate sobs that echoed through the corridor.
Imogen stared around at the others, at Zed and HK and Chris. Chris looked like he was going to be sick—and then he was, staggering to the side of the corridor and retching. Zed's neck was tense, his expression one of forced calm, control made possible only through the sleeping boy he held in his arms. HK looked resigned; he sighed as he stepped forward—then looked up, at the light touch on his arm, into pale blue eyes half-covered by long dark hair streaked with violet. Imogen and HK looked at each other for a long moment, then HK nodded and turned away, going to Chris's side. Chris was weeping quietly now, his hand pressed against his eyes, but he let HK guide him away, further up the corridor.
Zed caught Imogen's gaze and held it, his jaw clenched, his eyes bright, and then he turned and followed the others, leaving Imogen alone with the still sobbing Cheena.
For long seconds she did nothing. Just stood there, her weight on her left foot. Then she sat down, clumsily and heavily, grunting as she let her injured leg push against the floor. She stayed like that a moment, then she reached into her pocket and pulled out a much-abused pack of cigarettes and an old, scratched black lighter.
"Do you smoke?"
Cheena managed to control herself enough to shake her head. Imogen put a cigarette into her mouth, then opened her lighter and tried for a flame.
"I thought I'd see her again." Cheena's voice was different now, changed by her tears, low and lost. "I thought ... I thought at least that ..."
Imogen gave up trying to get her lighter to catch.
"I knew, I always knew that this was ... this could be hopeless. Like the others kept saying with their jokes. The end of the world. Maybe it is, but I thought I would have this one small thing, just to see her, to be together at the end ..."
There was a tiny impact as a cigarette bounced against the far wall, the small white tube rolling in a tight circle before coming to rest.
"She is all I have. I am all she has. And now ..."
"Your sister," Imogen said, her voice tight. "You said she was wearing—"
"You can tell her." Cheena's eyes burned as she stared up at Imogen. "You have to tell her. One four seven Green Lane, the apartment building is called Bright Landing, o-our apartment is the very first. You have to find her and, a-and tell her, if no one tells her then she will just keep trying to find me, promise me you will."
Imogen stared at Cheena. The girl took a breath, and then screamed:
"I AM GOING TO DIE, PROMISE ME!"
"I'll find her," Imogen said. She swallowed. "I promise."
"Repeat—"
"On
e four seven. Green Lane. Bright Landing. The first apartment." Imogen swallowed again. "I'll tell her everything. What you did for us. Everything."
Cheena was nodding, not looking at Imogen. The fire in her eyes had faded; they had become flat. So had her voice.
"Yes," she said. "You promised. You will find her."
Cheena's blank gaze went to her staff, lying fallen on the ground; Chris had dropped it when he'd gone to throw up. Slowly, Cheena crawled to the weapon—then halfway she stopped, and pushed herself to her feet, rising deliberately and calmly. After pausing for the space of a single breath she walked to her staff, and she bent with an elegant motion, and she swept it into her hand.
With Imogen limping behind her Cheena strode towards the others, her face cold, the tears on her cheeks and her red-rimmed eyes the only signs of her distress.
"You made your rules," she said, as she passed Zed. "And we all agreed to them." She stopped, ahead of everyone, facing forward, her staff held at her side. "But I refuse to be left behind."
She started walking, slower now, but no less deliberately.
"Allecchina—"
"My name is Allison. Allison Bernard. Older sister to Kimberly Bernard." She looked back, calm eyes taking in all of them, Zed and Zack, Chris and HK, and resting on Imogen. "Remember me."
And then she was gone, breaking into a run, her pace light and fast and unfaltering. She did not look back.
Imogen stared after her, feeling something dark and dense and horrible deep inside.
"Brave damn girl," Zed muttered. "Brave god-damned girl. Hope my end's half as noble as that."
"Should we ... should we give her a minute, or ..." HK trailed off and looked down, ashamed. Zed cleared his throat.
"Reckon we oughta just ... just keep on keeping on."
Chris had been trying to bring himself under control; with a long, deep breath, he succeeded.
"Imogen," he said, offering his arm. "If you need—"
"No. No, I'm ... no."
Zed glanced back at her as she started limping forward, setting the pace for the rest of them. "Reckon you ... you did good, Sue. Good as any of us."
"Better," HK murmured. "Much better."