by A. R. Wise
"There was lye on those bodies. I'm surprised you guys aren't burned worse."
Billy looked at the rash on the palms of his hands. "It was irritating, but not that bad."
"That's weird," said Clyde. "Maybe it got diluted with blood or something. I would've thought you'd be burned pretty bad by that stuff."
Levon rubbed his finger where the needle had pricked him. It was sore, but he hadn't paid much attention to it before now. "Shit, Billy. If I become a zombie, I'm going to be really fucking pissed off."
"Open that kit in the back," said Clyde.
Billy found a large toolbox nearby that looked like one of the tackle boxes his father kept on The Casper.
"There should be a bunch of vials in there labeled 'Alpha-77'. It was an antibiotic they made us take before we headed into the city. It's not a cure, but it's supposed to make it hard for the bacteria to take hold." He looked at Levon and shrugged. "Better than nothing."
"How do I use it?" Billy found the vial, but he didn't know what to do next.
"Unwrap one of the hypodermics, stick it in there, and get out…" Clyde stopped his explanation. "You know what? Just leave it alone. I'll give you guys the shots when we stop."
"Fuck that," said Levon. "Stop now."
"Why?"
"We don't know what's waiting for us out there." Levon pointed down the road. "For all we know, there could be a hundred fucking soldiers waiting for us. I'm not risking this shit. Stop and give us the shots now."
"Fine." Clyde stopped in the middle of the street and unbuckled himself. Billy handed the toolbox over the center console and Clyde started to prepare the shots. Billy and Levon had to unzip the top of their suits to get their arms out to receive the shot. Levon got his first, and he kept his eyes off the entire procedure, revealing his fear of needles in the process. Billy laughed at his friend before offering his arm to Clyde for the injection. Levon cursed at them for teasing him and turned away to gaze out the window.
"Did you hear that?" asked Levon as Billy was receiving his shot.
"What?"
"Listen."
They stopped moving and tried to listen over the low rumble of the truck's engine. After a minute, Clyde shrugged Levon's concern off and started to swab Billy's arm in preparation for the shot. "You're hearing things."
"I heard a banging sound out there." Levon peered out the window into the darkness beyond. The red and blue lights revealed nothing but a dead city all around them. He found the switch on his armrest that opened the door and flipped it.
Gas escaped the vehicle as the pressure changed when the door moved out. It rotated up to reveal the empty street beyond and Billy was about to chastise Levon for his nervousness when they all heard a booming noise. It echoed through the city and sounded as if it came from nearby.
"Did you hear that one, you deaf mother fuckers?"
"What the hell was that?" asked Billy as Clyde finished giving him the shot.
The noise sounded like a box hitting the ground. It sounded heavy, close, and familiar.
Levon turned to look at Billy with wide eyes and sudden terror. "The caskets."
"Oh shit."
"What caskets?" asked Clyde.
"The big plastic coffins you fuckers were storing bodies in." Levon slipped his shirt back on and zipped it up. "The bodies in them were turning into zombies."
"That's impossible," said Clyde.
Billy zipped up his shirt as well. "No it's not. We nearly got killed by them. Weren't you listening to us before? We got covered in that zombie slime when these things started coming back to life."
Clyde looked at them both as if what they were saying couldn't be true. His face grew pale and he stuttered as he tried to talk. "You didn't say anything about the bodies in the caskets coming back to life. That can't be."
"Well, it is." Levon flicked the switch on his armrest to bring the door back down. "We saw it."
"They put lye and antibiotics all over those corpses. There's no way they're coming back to life. They said that couldn't happen."
Levon snapped his fingers at Clyde to break his dazed expression. "Wake up, man. We saw them coming back to life. That sound out there was one of those caskets hitting the ground."
Clyde shook his head. "That can't be."
"Well it is," said Billy. "Let's get moving before it becomes a problem for us."
Clyde looked at Billy with a hopeless, frightened gaze. "You don't understand." He pointed out Levon's window. "Those graveyards are set up all around us."
"What do you mean?"
Clyde's face grew paler as he explained. "They were using the Becken Depot as a loading area for those coffins. They had them stacked up all along 22nd Avenue. We're sitting in the middle of the largest graveyard you've ever seen. Up ahead they're stacked on either side of the road."
"Well this shit just keeps getting better and better." Levon couldn't help but laugh.
"Should we turn around?" asked Billy.
"I don't think we have a choice." Clyde put the truck in reverse and attempted another three-point turn that sent the rear careening over the curb where it jostled over the hood of a car. He pulled forward and was about to drive as fast as he could away from the graveyard behind them when a red light started flashing on the dash.
"What's that?" asked Levon.
"The radar." Clyde flipped a switch beside a glass screen in the center of the dashboard. The display came to life and in the center of the circular glass was a representation of the truck. In front of it, somewhere ahead in the darkness, the radar detected movement. It started as a few red dots and slowly grew until the entire top portion of the circular glass was a mess of blinking red.
"Are those zombies?"
Clyde peered out the window ahead in search of movement. He pressed the button that controlled the spotlight and the blue and red flashing lights changed to a single, bright white beam that shined straight ahead.
There was an army of zombies running at them.
CHAPTER THREE - PEERING THROUGH THE DARK
General Covington led the way through the halls of the prison. The building was on the outskirts of the city, on the edge of a forest preserve that the trains ran through. It was a maximum-security facility that had been built as a precautionary measure to help handle a terrorist attack. Reagan knew this was one of the camps that Levon had used as an example of how the government planned this outbreak.
The building was in pristine condition considering it had been supposedly vacant since being built, several years earlier. The facility was divided into two sections, similar to how many other prisons throughout the country are designed. There was one area that was designated as the Green Zone and was marked with a green strip of paint that lined the walls. The other was the Blue Zone, and it bore a similar strip of paint, except in blue.
If this were a functioning prison, violent criminals and death row inmates would be sequestered to one side, while the less dangerous men would be sent to the other. Each side functioned independently, to avoid interaction between the groups. Even the recreational yards were delineated according to color and Reagan stared down at the wide-open, fenced area as they passed it.
Richard guided him along the terraced walkway that looked out over the yards. He stopped and leaned over the edge with his hands clasped in front of him. Reagan stood rigid at his side, still unwilling to break with military formality.
"We had some survivors stationed here earlier, before they ordered this facility evacuated. We saved a lot of lives. We should be proud of that."
"I'm glad to hear there's no one left here. I was worried that you were making a big mistake."
Richard glanced at his old friend quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"I'm infected, General." He held out his bandaged arm. "I'm putting everyone I come near at risk."
"I thought I told you not to worry about that."
"I still don't understand why not."
Richard slapped his heavy hand a
gainst the back of Reagan's shoulder and smiled. "When are you going to learn to just trust me?"
"I do trust you. I always have."
Richard looked back at the yards below.
"These are dark days we've fallen into, my friend," said Covington as he leaned against the railing. "But if we can make it through, then it'll be worth the fight. You've got to keep telling yourself that. It'll be worth the fight."
"Permission to speak freely?"
Covington looked at his old friend with tepid patience. "Stop with the formalities, Charles. I didn't bring you here because I wanted to pull rank."
"Why did you bring me here?"
"Because I know what happened to Arlene and Jim."
Reagan cringed at the mention of his lost wife and adopted son. It was a memory he'd tried his best to forget, at least for the time being. The moment he pointed his gun at his son, and pulled the trigger, was the worst event of his life. Every second since was spent waiting for the sweet release of death that would bring his family back into his arms.
Covington saw the anguish on his friend's face. "I thought they were at your vacation house in the mountains. When I found out they were in the city," it was difficult for him to express the depth of his empathy. He clasped Reagan's shoulder. "I was devastated."
"It's a story that's been played out a thousand times over the past couple days. I don't have the right to feel sorry for myself. At least not yet."
"I tried to warn you. I told you to get them to the cabin."
"We were warned of terrorist attacks too many times to count. I sent them out to that damn house after enough false alarms that we just stopped listening."
"But you should've listened to me, Charles." He shook his head and avoided eye contact.
Reagan was afraid to ask the question that haunted him. He didn't want to know the answer. "Did you know this was going to happen?"
Richard stood prostate and started walking down the terrace again. "Come on, Charles. I'll tell you everything. But first, I need a drink."
* * *
Trev hoisted Kim up over his shoulder to keep her from struggling. He dug his fingers into her side as she squirmed and he warned her to stay still. Their boat was parked alongside a rickety wooden dock on Hailey's End, just down the hill from the mansion where Courtland was collecting the Blue Yards. There were other boats here that Trev didn't recognize, which meant some of the rest of the crew had arrived since he'd been gone.
"Do you want me to drop you in the water?" asked Trev as he backed up to dangle Kim's head over the side of the dock.
"No!" She pounded on his back.
"Then shut the fuck up and stop fighting with me."
"I want my mom. I want Annie."
"They're dead."
"No they're not."
"Trust me, kid. By this point they're dead. No doubt. You'd best get used to the idea."
"Fuck you."
Trev pulled the kid off his shoulder and tossed her to the gravel path at the base of the pier. She hit the ground hard and whimpered at the pain that the fall caused her already wounded back. He pointed down at her with his left hand as he raised his right in a fist. "Watch your mouth, little girl, or I'll knock your teeth out."
He started to swing as if he was going to hit her. She scrambled away and held her hands over her face at his advance. He cackled with delight and then relaxed his stance as he held out his hand to help her up. She stared at him with distrust and unabated hate.
"Come on, Kim. Get up." He shook his hand at her, waiting for her to accept his help.
She got up by herself, dusted off her clothes, and then looked around the place that he had brought her. "Where are we?"
"Hailey's End."
"Is that what they call the house?"
"No. The island is called Hailey's End. It was a resort town that closed down about a decade ago. It's got a little amusement park out that way," he pointed down the gravel road that led away from the house on the hill. Then he pointed at a golf cart that sat along the picket fence that lined the mansion's yard. "Everyone used to drive around on carts out here. They didn't allow cars on the island."
She didn't say anything.
"You know, most kids would be excited at the prospect of driving around a deserted amusement park on a golf cart. I heard that when they closed this place down, they left a bunch of their equipment and toys and things. This place could be like your own personal playground."
She looked up at him and frowned. "Whoopee," she said as drably as possible.
"You're starting to make me regret saving your life, kid. I could've left you back there to die, you know? I could have left you to die like your mom and your sister. Is that what you want?"
"Yes."
"Careful what you wish for, you little shit." He grabbed her arm and pulled her to his side as he walked up the path leading to the house. She was too small to resist and was dragged along until she began to walk.
They made it to the front door and found that it was locked. He banged his fist against the door repeatedly until a light appeared inside the house. Someone approached, unlocked the door, and slowly opened it to peer out.
"Who is it?"
"Trev."
The person inside snickered and opened the door wider. It was a skinny man with a short mohawk and enough tattoos to hide the color of his pale skin everywhere except his face. "Hey, Trev."
"Howdy, Graves."
"Dude, Courtland's pissed at you." The tattooed man blocked the doorway.
"Why?" Trev sounded cautiously perturbed.
"You left Frank behind."
"Yeah, so? That nigger can make it back without me. Besides, we wouldn't have had room for everyone in my boat. They were going to take that big shrimp boat back."
"They're all dead."
"What?" Trev was startled by the news. "I know Ron got popped. We found him at the dock."
"No, dude, the rest of your crew's dead too. Chuck and Dave were taken out by that fucking kid. Courtland thinks he's working with RC. Like, he's some sort of assassin or something."
"Bullshit." Trev looked down at Kim as he laughed at the thought of Billy being in league with RC. "That kid's a fucking punk." He ignored the look of disagreement that Graves gave him. "What happened to Frank? Did he get whacked?"
"Not sure. Last they heard he was talking to that kid and then the com went dead." Graves shook his head while keeping his eyes locked on Trev as if concerned for his safety. "Court thinks he's..." He traced his thumb over his tattooed throat in a deathly gesture. Then he pointed down at Kim. "What's with the kid?"
"Courtland wanted some kids for the experiment." He jerked at Kim's arm. "Figured she'd be a good test subject."
"They've already got one down there."
"Yeah, but he wanted more."
Graves looked at her and shrugged. He opened the door wider and stepped aside so they could come in. "Jason's here. He brought his uncle with him.
"Anyone else make it?"
"Not yet. I figure most of them will start showing up in the morning." He looked out into the starry night. "It's getting late. No one in their right mind is trying to run around a city full of zombies in the middle of the night. Also, Courtland said we need to watch for black helicopters. They're almost impossible to spot at night, and he wants all of us to make sure no one is able to follow us to this island. Matter of fact, he's having Alex go around the island, sinking any boats he finds, just to make sure no one thinks anyone's out here."
"He's paranoid."
Graves laughed and nodded. "He should be. RC would rip his head off if he found him."
* * *
"We're fucked!" Levon pointed out the front window of the truck at the horde that was bearing down on them. "Get us out of here, Clyde."
"Where am I supposed to go?"
"Put it in reverse."
"But the coffins are back that way."
Levon slammed his hand against the dash for emphasis as he gestu
red out at the approaching horde. "And a mother fucking army of zombies are coming from that way! Get us out of here."
Billy stared at the horde with a mix of shock and fascination. The bright spotlight on top of the truck shined over the sea of shambling corpses that stretched out as far as he could see. They were glistening in the light and covered in a pale slime that oozed off their limbs and dripped to the ground. It was similar to the syrupy glop that had fallen on him earlier when he passed under one of the open coffins. He peered through the darkness at the seemingly endless wave of corpses that threatened to overwhelm them.
Clyde raced in reverse for a while before finding a space cleared of cars where he could turn around. "I'm just warning you guys, if those things are popping out of the coffins then we're headed right into the epicenter of them."
"Why did they pile the coffins up by the trains that they were transporting the survivors on?" asked Billy.
"We were loading the bodies onto barges out in the bay and on trains that were headed out of the city."
"What the hell for?" Levon was staring alternately out ahead of the truck and at the radar in search of any more creatures. "I figured they would've piled them up someplace they were planning on bombing."
"Maybe they are," said Clyde. "Maybe the barges and the trains were supposed to take them to some designated bombing zone."
"Then why not put them over at the Baylor Projects?" asked Billy as he pointed behind them. "They're planning on bombing that place in the morning."
"Where'd you hear that?"
"Captain Reagan told us," said Billy. "He said they were pulling everyone out of the city by the morning to start bombing certain areas."
"I never heard anything about that."
"I don't think they'd told anyone yet," said Billy as he watched the road ahead for any sign of movement. "Reagan said his men didn't know, but that they had to start bombing by the morning because the soldiers would start feeling the effects of the disease by then."
"What?"
"Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, bro." Levon pat Clyde's shoulder. "Reagan said all the soldiers were infected. That's why they've been keeping you guys separated from the civies."