by TW Brown
“Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy,” she called down in a loud stage whisper.
Joel noted a few of the bikers cast uncertain glances, but none of them said a word. Joel was the next to go. One by one, everybody made it up to the roof without any troubles. A few of the bikers kept holding back, gesturing for others to go ahead of them.
They had over half the crew up and over when a mob of undead emerged from the nearby parking garage. Joel swore silently. They hadn’t been making any noise, but the fighting had continued off in the direction they were eventually heading. Obviously these zombies had been drawn by all that racket. Unfortunately, they now spotted prey and veered towards the building where the rest of the bikers that had not yet crossed were still standing around either ushering others ahead or shifting back and forth anxiously as they waited their turn.
It only took a few moments to realize that this mob was extraordinarily large. They washed through the parking lot like a raging desert flood, knocking aside a Dumpster in the process. With the people on top of the building their new objective, they flowed around the building as the numbers continued to grow. In a matter of minutes, a few more people had made it over, but the building was now surrounded by a mob of the undead that was at least ten deep on all sides. All of them were reaching skyward toward the living, mouths open in a chorus of moans and those hair-raising baby cry noises that were visibly upsetting to some who’d obviously either not heard this sound, or possible even not heard of it.
Finally, they were down to the last three bikers. The men were huddled together and having an animated conversation that nobody on the tracks could hear, but it wasn’t necessary to hear in order to understand what was being argued about. None of them were confident with their ability to make the crossing.
Joel hadn’t thought about it. He’d simply done it, but he’d had a moment when he was almost across and his muscles were starting to burn that he’d wished he was a few pounds lighter. None of these men were under two hundred and fifty pounds. One of them had to be pushing three hundred easy.
Finally, one of them threw his arms up and just turned to the line. At first it looked like he was trying to figure out if he could cross it by lying on it on his belly, but this line was much too thin for that. It was braided paratrooper cord, so it was pretty strong and holding the weight of any of these men was not a question. The question was their ability and upper body strength required to traverse it.
At last, the man was leaning out with his back over open space and he had no choice but to throw his legs up and over. Joel felt his stomach clench when the man decided he was going to dangle and try to make the crossing. He obviously didn’t realize that throwing his legs over would make the strain on his arms and shoulders less.
He wasn’t even five feet out, but only a few more hand-over-hand moves before he would be to the phone pole which would give him a chance to regrip and take a break.
And then he fell.
12
Battle Ready
Both men still on top of the small building lunged forward and watched in obvious terror as their companion was engulfed by a sea of undead that began to tear into his body sending up a crimson fountain as major arteries were torn asunder. A few of the people that made it across peered down, but most of them turned away.
Joel waited for the terrible scream of pain to be drowned into a gurgle before he turned to the group. “We need to move.”
“But what about them?” one of the bikers gulped, pointing at the two men still on the roof of the liquor store.
“Unless you can teach them to fly, they’re screwed,” Debra snarled. “We can’t wait around for them to either grow the stones it takes to make it over…or figure out a way to defy physics and haul their fat asses across that line, they’re stuck like Chuck.”
“Reggie?” Another of the bikers turned to the man Joel was now certain had to be the leader.
“You heard ‘em,” Reggie grunted, starting up the monorail tracks after Joel, Will, Debra, and the rest of Joel’s team.
Joel suppressed the smile. He was becoming more confident that this group would be a good addition to his community. And if they shed some of the dead weight in the process, so much the better.
They moved fast, glancing down on occasion at the carnage below. Many of the undead on the fringes that had gathered around the building had turned away and were now following Joel’s group, but Joel noticed that the main cluster was still several bodies deep and paying him and his people no mind. He quickly wrote off the men on the roof as casualties. The likelihood that they would be able to either get across or find a way down that didn’t involve a swan dive into Zombie Lake seemed basically nil.
They made the big curve that took them around Bally’s and slowed. They would be going into one of the places Joel had not wanted to venture. He’d forgotten about the Bally’s platform in all the excitement and haste. Once again he’d made a blunder that could prove fatal.
As they reached the arrival port, Joel saw a few dark shadowy figures stumbling around, but nothing in the numbers he’d feared. Perhaps this was one of those times where it was indeed better to be lucky than good. He didn’t doubt that they could take down anything that might wander out to the tracks.
As they entered the gloom of the terminal, Joel felt a small sense of vindication. If they’d had to fight their way up the stairs and to the platform, they would’ve had some difficulties. The stairwells were not conducive to battle and the undead were in big enough numbers to be a concern in such close quarters, but by being on the tracks, they were able to move past them without the slightest problem.
They came out from the darkened area and back into the blazing sunlight and came upon a horrific killing field of sorts. It had once been the Bally’s outdoor pool area. It had been designed to look like yet another tropical paradise—a theme that Joel felt had been overdone ad nauseum by many of the Las Vegas establishments—but it was now a sea of carnage.
Bodies were still in stacks, and it looked as if there had been an attempt to empty the pool and turn that basin into a massive makeshift burn pit. The stench was not as bad as he thought it might be, but then realized that this was a scene of old death. Time, carrion eaters, and rot would eventually claim the scene. Once again, he also noticed a dusting of sand covering a lot of the area. To him, that meant that it hadn’t been disturbed in quite a while. In fact, if not for being up on the tracks, he would likely have walked past and not seen a thing.
Up ahead was a massive parking structure, and it took Joel a moment to decide that this had not been where he’d earlier encountered the group of zealots. Further ahead on the right, he saw the massive blue-tinted façade of the Hilton just beyond yet another parking structure. He wasn’t in a position to see them yet, but any moment, he knew that the Signature Towers would come into view on the left.
If his mind was working properly, that would bring them in on the back side of where they’d been engaged before. That was of course predicated on his enemy not having relocated. Every step forward from here on had to be one of caution. He would not risk his people’s lives foolishly. He would do everything he could to extract Conrad and his group, but he would only do that after he dealt once and for all with the zealots. Ending them would have to happen before he could turn his attention to Conrad.
Of course, he also had to accept the fact that it was possible some of Conrad’s people would not be of any use. He would not bring dead weight back to the community. But if the young man knew anything about Joel, he would be expecting such a response…wouldn’t he?
At last he could see them. Tower One had already burned to the point that it had caved in or fallen away in many places leaving huge gaping holes. He could also see fires burning on several floors of both remaining towers. With no hope of those fires being put out, Joel guessed that neither with be standing by nightfall.
There was a lull in the sounds of battle up ahead and Joel raised his hand for everybody to h
old up. A tinny sound could be heard, but between the distance and the echo of sound bouncing off the tall buildings, it was indiscernible. Motioning again, he resumed their advance.
They were even with the backside of the X-shaped Paris Hotel building when Joel signaled for them to halt again. The gunfire had not started back up, but there were occasional shouts coming from up ahead, and they sounded like they were growing nearer.
“Everybody, if you haven’t already…lock and load,” Joel said in a conversational tone and volume that sounded loud in the relative silence.
Joel was surprised when he heard a few sounds indicating that everybody had not, in fact, prepared for a firefight. It was one thing not to draw attention to themselves when it was just zombies. This was about to be a fight to the death with the living. Being quiet was off the table. The sideways look that Debra gave a few of the bikers, and even a couple of their own people who were chambering rounds told him he wasn’t alone in his assessment and shade of disappointment. If he was maybe twenty years younger and even remotely interested in investigating a romantic relationship, she would be the perfect choice. Of course, he also saw such a relationship ending in a shootout where one of them definitely died…maybe both.
“You think this is a good idea?” Reggie muttered, making sure to keep his voice neutral as well as quiet so as not to be overheard.
“I think it’s stupid. And if it were anybody else doing it, I’d wish ‘em luck and then write them off.” Joel brought his own assault rifle to his shoulder and scanned ahead, looking for something moving fast enough to possibly be living.
“Then tell me again why we are—” Reggie started, but Joel cut him off.
“While not by birth, that is basically my son in that tower. I asked my people for volunteers because I made the city off limits. As for you and your people, you can still go back.” Joel folded his arms across his chest, hugging the gun with the barrel pointed skyward.
“Nope. Your group is the one we want to be a part of, and if what I am seeing is any indication, we are on the same page.” Reggie leaned forward and whispered almost conspiratorially, “We had a few of our group we had to do away with after they wanted to try and turn into superheroes. Can’t save everybody…am I right?”
“Indeed.” Joel nodded, but he now placed Reggie on a personal watch list. While he had no trouble dishing out justice to those who stepped out of line, he took no real pleasure in sending anyone to the darkness. Reggie sounded a bit too enthusiastic in sharing the fact that he’d had to “do away with” members of his group.
He had no more time to consider his evaluation of Reggie. Up the street, there was a loud metal bang as a door was flung open and slammed into the concrete wall behind it. Three figures emerged and quickly appeared to be scanning the area. Once satisfied, they dashed across the parking lot that still had a few cars parked haphazardly throughout. They slid in behind a shuttle bus that was on its side and opened a large gym bag that one of them had been carrying.
Joel had them in his sights, but the trio were hunched over whatever it was they were doing and prevented him from seeing anything. After a few moments that dragged for an eternity, the trio got up to a crouch and hurried across the lot and then dove through some hedges, coming out on the back side and racing across what had been East Harmon Avenue towards the two remaining Signature Suites towers.
Figuring that these individuals were part of the enemy’s forces, Joel brought his rifle up to his shoulder. Sighting on the center of one of the men’s backs, Joel squeezed the trigger. His rifle made a muted report that still seemed much too loud despite the muffling apparatus rigged on the end of the barrel of his weapon. The man carrying the duffel staggered forwards as if trying to sprint ahead, but then stumbling over his own two feet.
The man hit the pavement hard and Joel waited for the other two to tend to their fallen companion. The pair never broke stride and threw themselves into some bushes near what looked like some sort of service or emergency entrance after snatching up the bag on the fly.
Joel was sighting on the second one when the duo reached the targeted door. One of them slid something into the edge and made short work of opening the metal emergency door. The second one already had what looked to be a drill or something. A moment later, the door had been removed from its hinges and set aside.
Joel was trying to figure out what they were up to when a loud noise erupted from the darkness of the gaping stairwell. Just as suddenly, the pair sprinted away. Joel didn’t need to look around to know exactly what had just been done. Still, he couldn’t help but appreciate the tactic as he scanned the area. Zombies were all turning around or adjusting their course and heading for that noise.
“The next stage of warfare,” Joel muttered to nobody in particular. “Use the zombies as shock troops and then probably draw them back out and clean up.”
“I was gonna suggest something along those lines at our next meeting,” Debra snorted. She sounded annoyed at watching what was obviously an idea she’d been contemplating being put to use…from the other end in a way.
Joel watched as the undead came to the loud siren sound that came from whatever device the duo had tossed into the now wide-open building. He noticed some movement in the shadows, but he couldn’t be sure that his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks. As he tried to focus in, he felt a hand grip his shoulder.
“Up there,” Debra whispered into his ear.
Pulling his eyes from the binoculars, Joel followed her hand to where she pointed. Up the tower his gaze roamed until he reached about halfway. A section of windows had been busted out, and groups of bedsheets tied together were being draped through the opening.
“That is a very bad idea,” he whispered, bringing his field glasses up again. “But I think they are running out of choices.”
Five floors up, smoke was starting to trickle from a few of the open balcony sliding glass doors. Desperation was obviously the prevalent mood inside the tower. Zombies were coming in from at least one point that Joel knew of, and from the looks of it, he was certain that the front had been breached already. Hadn’t he heard something on the radio about the undead coming up some of the stairwells?
When he pulled his glasses down again, he saw that everybody was staring at him. A few of the bikers appeared uncertain and that same look was on the faces of more than one of his own people. He’d been very clear on the mission, and this possible change of heart was troublesome in Joel’s mind.
“If you can’t handle this, then go. This is the last chance to turn around,” he said as calmly as possible.
“This just ain’t our fight, Hoss,” one of the bikers said as he clapped Reggie on the shoulder while he edged past and started back the way they’d come.
Four more bikers, gazes aimed at the tracks and obviously avoiding eye-contact, quickly followed. Joel watched them passively, once glancing over at Reggie to see the man’s reaction. To his credit, the man was just as stone-faced as Joel hoped he appeared at the moment. When he brought his attention back to the group, he noticed two of his own people making raised eyebrow gestures to each other. Then he noticed that Debra had left his side.
She’d moved past the group, and at first, Joel thought she might be dismissing things and simply taking it on herself to get the group back to heading for their objective. Then she stopped walking and turned very slowly.
The large blade in her hand caught the sun just right and flashed a beam of light into the eyes of one of the individuals with the waggling eyebrows. Joel knew what she was about to do and felt a smile curve the corners of his lips.
“You knew the rules,” she whispered before she gripped the first of the pair by a handful of hair and slid her blade across the man’s throat. “Desertion is not acceptable.”
“We weren’t deserting,” the other person yelped, unable to move quick enough to avoid a spray of blood across the face from his would-be companion.
“And where did you think you would go if y
ou left us?” Debra took a step towards the man, allowing the other to drop unceremoniously to the tracks. With one booted foot, she pushed the body over the side where it landed with a meaty smack on the road below. “Did you think you might just head back to the vehicles and wait it out? Or perhaps you thought to take one?”
The man opened his mouth and snapped it shut with an audible click. “I’ll stay,” the man whispered after a moment where the tension grew as the sounds of the man below being ripped apart and feasted upon carried on the desert wind.
“Too late for that,” another voice said from behind the man causing him to start and then attempt to spin around.
In one swift motion, Will Barnes drove his KABAR up under the man’s ribs, yanked it free, and shoved him from the tracks. There was a cringe-inducing crack of bone as the man’s legs shattered.
Joel glanced down, curious why there’d been no scream. A pool of darkness was spreading from the body and the man looked up, his mouth open wide, but no sound came forth.
As a few of the undead shambled over and knelt to begin clawing and biting into the newest offering to fall from above, the man finally found his voice. It started as a weak sound and eventually grew to a shriek.
“Musta knocked the wind from him,” Will sniffed as he wiped his blade and shoved it back into the sheath on his hip.
“You want me to go run my guys down?” Reggie asked.
Joel glanced over his shoulder at the fleeing figures that had left at a walk but now obviously ran for all they were worth. He shook his head and returned his gaze to the tower and the sheet that had dropped far enough so that somebody might be able to get themselves about ten or fifteen feet from the ground before they would have to let go and drop.