by Dan DeWitt
"Look, I-"
"If that's not enough motivation, there's about 30,000 dead people you can talk to," Sam said. "That particular business isn't finished, not by a damn sight."
Mutt continued. "Or there's always this." The pounding sound was replaced by a woman's screams. These he had no problem placing. They were Jackie's, and he'd heard them live over a video call.
"She's safe, Mutt."
"She's not, and you fucking well know it. That twerp is still out there. He might not be the only one, either. You think anyone's safe, least of all your family? I'll have some of what you're smoking."
"Come on, Orpheus, we know that you already know this. So let's skip the part where you pretend to feel sorry for yourself and we pretend to have to convince you. Time to cowboy up."
"You know that help's coming. It's just a matter of when. Your job is to make it until then. Help them find you. This isn't rocket science. Keep fighting. The job isn't over." Orpheus couldn't see Mutt's eyes (didn't even know if he had any), but he could feel a challenging gaze nonetheless.
Their words hit home. The job wasn't done. Not even close. Orpheus leaned towards the shadows and rolled his head side to side, loosening up his neck. "You guys suck."
"It's alive, Sammy!"
"About time. I was getting angry."
Orpheus laughed. "You know, even with all the time we spent together, I never saw that. Not once."
"You didn't want to." Sam's tone was so flat and emotionless that Orpheus couldn't tell if he was serious or if it was just his deadpan humor at work. He thought that it might be a little of both.
"Well," Mutt said, "our work here is done." The shadows turned to leave.
"Wait," Orpheus said. "Are you real?"
Sam said, "Does it matter?"
"I guess not. Thank you. For everything."
The shadows seemed to nod at him.
"Oh, one other thing," Mutt said, drawing out the last syllable so it sounded like thaaaaang.
"Hmm?"
The Mutt-shadow drew back an open hand and hammered Orpheus across his cheek. "Wake the fuck up!"
O
Ethan gave Jameson the final turn direction that would lead to the cabin. "It's about a half mile up."
"I'll scoot ahead and see what I can see." The helicopter left the ponderous Rhino in the dust and arrived at the site quickly. He put it in hover and engaged the spotlight. "Figures."
"There's like twelve cabins down there," German said.
"Ethan, a couple of problems. I can't exactly see house numbers down there, and half of them are hidden by trees."
"We'll be there in a sec. What's the situation?"
"That's the third problem. Those things are everywhere."
German said, "It looks like they might be clustering more around one or two, but I can't be certain."
"Damn. Standby."
Jameson said, "I hate standing by."
"You and me both."
"How you feeling?"
German shivered in his seat, still damp from his time in the river. "Almost dry. I'll live."
"That was a ballsy thing you did."
"Eh, I like swimming."
Jameson grumbled, "Island full of wiseasses. Take the compliment." He spun the helicopter in place so he could get a better look at the cabins. He had almost made a full revolution when German said, "Whoa, stop. Go back."
Jameson complied, and then he saw it. "Is that smoke?"
"I think so. Coming from a chimney."
"I don't believe it," Jameson said. "Kid, your longshot paid off. One of the cabins is using the fireplace. I'm spotlighting it."
"We see it. Our angle sucks, how many are there?"
Jameson didn't bother to physically count them. "I'm not sure we brought enough bullets."
O
When Orpheus awoke from his fever dream, he immediately felt the sting from Mutt's slap, and wondered how that was possible.
Exactly one-half of a second later, he realized that the pain came from ragged fingernails being raked across his face. He pushed Thompson to the floor and rolled to the opposite side, away from the flailing zombie arm.
His hand flew to his face and came away wet. Research had proven conclusively that the zombie virus was only transmitted through bites, but it was still a terrifying experience to be slashed by one.
"I'm up, I'm up!" Thompson said, although he was still prone.
"Move!" Orpheus said. He was already pushing a China cabinet across the floor and in front of the window. He was able to push the zombie back enough to block the window, but the zombie (or zombies, by now) wasn't giving up. The cabinet began to rock forward. Orpheus put his own weight up against it, but he could only keep it stable for so long.
He was about to tell Thompson to help him, but the reporter was already pushing the love seat to him. Orpheus had to leave his position at the cabinet to help Thompson lift the loveseat onto its end. The zombies almost knocked the cabinet over, but the two men were able to wedge the additional furniture against it. Even if the zombies were able to move both of them, they'd only have a couple inches of clearance before it all got stuck against the doorway.
Thompson was bent over, hands on his knees, panting. "And now ... we have ... nowhere to sit."
Orpheus, in a similar posture, was surprised to hear himself laugh. "I'm about to fall back asleep just leaning against it. How you holding up?"
"Everything hurts. And I'm not even the one who got shot."
"Just grazed me, fortunately. Would've been a lot worse if you hadn't lost your mind." Orpheus moved around the living room. The last time he was here there had been a drawer full of candles. Luck was with him for once, and he lit several. The candlelight was a welcome sight. They didn't have to worry about drawing the zombies to them, so he felt free to light it up like a Christmas tree.
Thompson turned his head. "I barely remember it. I just went blank. I was so fucking angry. I mean, I brought the asshole to the island. Yeah, it was Ralston's idea, but I approved him. I liked him."
"Don't beat yourself up. He was going to get himself here one way or the other. He's not going to bother us anymore."
Thompson noticed the change in tone. "You sound upset about it."
Orpheus lit another candle. "I murdered him. It had to be done, but I won't forget his screams for a while." Something that Thompson had said clicked in Orpheus' mind. "Hedley wasn't your pick?"
"No, I couldn't reach my regular guy. Ralston made a recommendation."
"The good Colonel has his prints all over everything. He and I are going to talk real soon."
Thompson cocked his ear toward the roof. "You hear that?"
Orpheus listened. It was the same noise as in his dream. His mind must have incorporated it. "A helicopter."
"Ours?"
"Has to be. We only have one, and Jameson sleeps with the keys. I mean that literally."
"How'd they find us?"
"No clue." Orpheus listened as the sound of the rotors faded a little. "They haven't yet. We have to help them."
"How?"
"Grab anything that'll burn. The more smoke it throws off, the better."
Orpheus went to work on the fireplace. A stack of newspaper sat next to it. He crumbled up a bunch and jammed it under the wood holder. He heard Thompson ransacking the kitchen. "I need kindling, too!"
Thompson returned with a few packs of toothpicks and wood skewers for barbecuing. "Best I can do for that."
"That'll work." Orpheus added all of it to the fireplace and lit the paper.
The toothpicks caught almost immediately, and the skewers weren't far behind. He added the small logs that were left in the pile and soon had a solid fire.
Small did them no good. He needed huge.
Something that couldn't be ignored.
A bunch of wicker figurines were on top of the mantle. He swept them off and added them to the fire. He hated to do it, as someone had put a lot of work into them, but this was life
or death.
He heard a crash in the kitchen and then the sound of splintering wood. Thompson returned with an armful. "Lamp oil, and here's a friggin' chair."
Orpheus added the chair. When he poured the lamp oil on, the flames shot up high enough to disappear from his view into the chimney. "Holy shit." He threw on the rest of the newspaper, as well. He hoped that some of the embers would carry out into the night air. They'd be impossible to miss.
Every few minutes, he added something. A piece of broken furniture here, a throw pillow there.
Twice he believed he heard the helicopter heading toward the house, but both times it retreated.
He was beginning to lose hope. He had no idea what was coming out of the chimney, and it was full on nighttime now.
The rotors grew louder once more, and this time it sounded like they settled over the house and stayed there.
Unconvinced, Orpheus looked over at Thompson. The look on his face confirmed it.
"Holy shit, it worked."
"Yeah, but I have no idea how we get out, and we're probably buried in zombies now."
The sound of the rotors retreated again, and Orpheus said, "You've got to be kidding me."
He heard someone shouting to him, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from. He checked his two-way, but it was still wrecked from whatever Hedley had done to it. "You have a phone on you?"
"Don't you think I would've used it? I lost it in the crash."
Orpheus heard the voice again, and this time a word came through: fireplace.
He looked up at the ceiling. Someone was on the roof.
"We have to kill the fire," Orpheus said. He trotted to the kitchen and grabbed a handful of oven mitts. He tossed a pair to Thompson and began pulling logs out of the fireplace. "Throw these in the sink and douse them if you can!"
Thompson grabbed a burning log and ran as fast as he could into the kitchen, and it didn't sound like he was quite fast enough. "Goddammit, that's hot!" Orpheus heard more ransacking of the kitchen and then Thompson returned with a large, deep pot. "Screw that." He put the pot between them and they quickly removed the biggest parts of the fire until all that was left was a glowing stack of coals.
Orpheus bent himself backwards so he could look up the chimney. The heat radiating off of the stone was bearable, but only just, and the last vestiges of the smoke made his eyes water. "Hey! Hey, you still up there?"
German's face appeared at the top of the chimney. "I tell you one thing, I am not jumping out of a helicopter again today."
O
All the occupants of the Rhino could do was watch and wait.
Ethan felt helpless while he watched the helicopter sweep back and forth over the site, trying to find the right cabin. When he saw the smoke, his spirits soared, but they were still left with the problem of how to get his father and Thompson out of there safely. The amount of traffic that both the Rhino and the helicopter had brought was mindblowing. If he had to guess, he would have said that most of the zombies from town had wandered into the woods while chasing wildlife, and had been wandering ever since, just waiting for another target.
That's what the remaining humans were now, a big, comically loud target that had caused all of the zombies to converge upon a small patch of land in the middle of nowhere. Jameson was right, they literally didn't have enough ammo among them to just erase the problem, not even close. That meant they'd have to get creative.
Jameson moved over the cabin and got as low as he reasonably could. A silhouette dropped with relative grace onto the gently-sloping roof.
A voice came over the radio. "I'm on. Give me a few minutes."
Ethan heard a phone ring and heard Tim answer. "What? We need more time. I know, I know. Do what you can. We're close." He dropped the phone on the table and rubbed his eyes. "Lena said the ferry's here, and they're going to give us thirty minutes before they take off without us. That will be the last transport off of the island, and then it's only a matter of how long it is before the whole thing gets lit up."
"They can't just sit offshore for a bit?"
"No, Ralston says when it's time to go, it's time to go."
"Ralston's on the boat?"
"You're surprised?"
"Of course not."
German transmitted again. "I'm talking to him. They're both alive, not that they look like it. The chimney might be doable for the reporter, maybe, but not for Orpheus. He ain't exactly built like a Calvin Klein model. We need something else, and fast. I could surf on these things."
"Standby." Ethan asked if anyone had any ideas, but before they came up with any, Jameson did.
"Pied Piper," the pilot said. "Be ready."
Ethan knew what to expect. They'd all seen it before. Jameson would fly low and slow enough that the zombies would be practically compelled to follow him. He'd lead them away, the Rhino would swoop in and pick up three, and they'd all meet up at the dock for a nice, tidy rescue.
Then Jameson stranded German on the roof, and the plan changed.
O
While German kept Orpheus apprised of what was going on, Jameson guided the helicopter away from the cabin at a perfect speed and altitude to lure the zombies from the cabin. He had to have over a hundred following him, which under other circumstances would be great. But too many were still clustered around the cabin and stubbornly refused to take the bait. They knew that there was meat inside, and his helicopter wasn't a tempting enough target to lure them away. He probably could have swooped in even closer and picked up enough to at least make the odds better, but, as always, there was a problem.
Jameson looked at his control panel and sighed. Everything was in perfect working order. He treated his bird like a princess, and she had been very good to him.
He hadn't fed her in too long. There just hadn't been time. All of the searching had taken its toll on the fuel. It was just about used up, but he thought she’d be good for one more stunt.
Jameson was intimately familiar with that feeling.
This was no surprise to him. He'd figured it out hours ago, but had still pressed on, because he was needed. What was he supposed to do, give up so he could soon die of cancer and guilt? No, thanks.
He licked his lips and transmitted. "Ethan, I can't pull them all off. Sorry, but-"
"That's all right, we can, uh, we can handle what's left." The doubt in the kid's voice couldn't had been more obvious.
"Let me finish, all right? I can probably get some more, and make sure that they can't bother you again. Best I can do. Just wait for the signal before you go in."
"What's the signal?"
"Trust me, you won't be able to miss it."
"What about us?" German asked. "I'm on a fucking roof."
"You'll have to hoof it, pal. You don't want to be on this ride."
"I don't like this," Ethan protested. "What are you doing?"
"For the record," Jameson began, but he had to stop and clear his throat. "I'm glad we all got to actually be on the same side this time. It's been an honor. Do me a favor, son. Just tell your dad I said, 'It's time.' He'll understand. Out."
"Wait-"
Jameson turned his radio off and put the headset on the seat next to him.
He turned 180 degrees and headed in the direction of the cabin once again. The zombies followed suit. He flew close enough to the cabin that his skids were almost touching the mob of zombies that ringed the cabin. Even with the prey inside, the helicopter was just too close for a lot of them to ignore. They peeled off and followed Jameson. He didn't bother turning this time, only flew backwards a short distance. He went as far as he dared before his instincts told him that if he didn't land now, gravity would land him, and he needed to keep the noise up for as long as possible.
He set it down and the crowd of zombies instantly converged on the copter. They began climbing all over each other, and soon Jameson's view was almost completely blocked by the writhing mass of undead. Some of them got so high up that they lost body par
ts to the spinning blades, which added a thick layer of gore to his already-limited view.
He said, "Fuck these guys," and unbuckled his seatbelt. He knelt down next to his fun box and pulled out a large Thermos, a gift from an old Army buddy. He had no idea what exactly was in it, except that it damn sure wasn't soup, and it was highly illegal. He pried open a small access panel and hit a few switches, then placed it in front of him.
He knew that there would be a few seconds delay as the device primed itself. He grabbed the picture of his daughter from the dash and kissed it. He closed his eyes and held it to his chest.
Then, to something else: "You were never going to get me," he said. "I wasn't going to let you."
Whether he was talking to the zombies, the disease that was eating him up inside, or both ... he was right.
Goodbye, Again
German had delivered the message to Orpheus as soon as he'd received it. As the pilot had predicted, Orpheus knew exactly what it meant, as well. He warned a confused German to take cover behind the chimney.
Orpheus moved to a window and pulled the drapes back just enough to follow the helicopter's retreat. The blinking lights made it easy to track. Then it landed and was immediately swallowed up by a sea of zombies. Orpheus tried to visualize what was happening in the copter. Jameson wouldn't waste any time. He'd want it to be over as quickly as possible. Orpheus could almost see him going to that box, doing what he had to do, and waiting for it to do its job.
The anticipation of what was going to happen was torture.
The explosion itself, spectacular and brutal, was almost a relief. The helicopter, the zombies, everything within a fifty foot radius was blown apart in a flash of flame. Orpheus could hear shrapnel pelting the cabin, and a few pieces of whatever actually cracked his viewing window.
"Holy fucking shit," Thompson said. "Holy fucking shit."
Orpheus didn't allow himself to feel it yet. He would later, but now was the time to honor a sacrifice by making the most of the opportunity it presented. Just like last time. "Time to move, Thompson. The Rhino will be coming."