A few more minutes passed. Shintaro grew impatient. They had to get out of here before the situation went even more out of hand. His thought was interrupted by a slam against the glass windows. He turned quickly to see a mob of people attacking the guards. Weapons fire rang out as the guards shot. The guard on the far right went down under a dozen people. Blood spattered against the clear glass, his weapon firing until its magazine emptied. The other guards backed in through the door being held by Itto. Once the seven remaining men were inside, they secured the door with one of their belts.
“There is no need for that, Itto san,” Shintaro said from behind them.
“They can just pull the door open otherwise and get in here,” Itto said, sweating, his face red with exertion. “They have already killed Takeshi.”
The people were now banging on the windows and doors. Some smeared blood from previous victims or wounds. “They do not understand that,” Shintaro said, counting twenty-three of the infected people outside the building. “They seem to have an animal’s intellect. They are unable to solve a problem as simple as pulling a door.”
As they stood watching, Shintaro’s point was proven correct. The infected simply bashed at the windows and doors. Some tried biting, only to have their lips smear down the glass. In a way, they looked comical. “The glass is bulletproof, six inches thick,” Itto said from Shintaro’s side. “They will not be getting through there.”
“I think to keep their excitement down we should go upstairs or into another room,” Shintaro said. “If they can’t see us, they may move on.”
“We can go up to the consulate floor on eighteen,” Itto said, issuing orders to his men to fall back to the eighteenth floor.
They all piled into the elevator except one of the armed guards, who was ordered to stay downstairs. It was cramped, but they all fit. Shintaro had Sarah behind him and Emiko to his left. A moment or two passed and the elevators opened onto the consulate floor. A few people were gathering files and papers into boxes. The office had been ransacked. Chairs were turned over. Paper littered every inch of the floor. It had been little more than an hour since the start of this catastrophe. Everyone had left in a very big hurry. Did they know something that Shintaro and the public did not?
He let Sarah and Emiko out first, and he was last to leave the elevator. Itto stopped and jammed the elevator door open by rolling a chair between the doors to fool the sensor into thinking someone was standing there. Workers began bringing boxes and piled them into the elevator. Shintaro grabbed the first officer worker who came near him. “What is happening? How long ago were you told to evacuate?” Shintaro said, gripping the man’s arm tightly.
“We were given the order an hour ago,” the man said. “The ambassador was the first out. We are awaiting the last two helicopters to take us to the airport. We are all to return to Japan. This is happening with all of our embassies.”
Shintaro let the man go. This was a worldwide event. Not just New York. There was more to this than he or the consulate worker knew. What’s more, two more helicopters were inbound. Itto had made it sound as if only one more was coming back. He could get Emiko and Sarah out of here and follow on the last transport if necessary. His hope was renewed. He would fulfill his personal obligation and get the ladies to safety.
“The chopper is coming in,” one of the office workers shouted.
The other two men brought the last of the boxes (fifteen in total) and put them into the elevator and stayed. The third conversed with Itto.
“Can the girls go out on this helicopter?” Shintaro said, interrupting the two men.
“A moment, Wakayama san,” Itto said, and returned to his conversation.
The two men parted, and the office worker went to the elevator. “He said you can go out with them, but it will be tight,” Itto said. “Those documents have to be loaded as well.”
“As long as they are on the flight I do not care,” Shintaro said. “Just please get them to safety.”
“We will. You as well.” Itto said, waving them onto the elevator.
Shintaro bowed to Itto. “Thank you,” he said, “for everything. I am in your debt. Whatever you need. Please let me know.” Shintaro handed Itto a business card out of his pocket.
Itto smiled and accepted it. “Go,” Itto said. “We will be on the next one.”
Shintaro got into the elevator as the chair was moved out of the way. The doors closed on the seven men, and they were on their way to the roof of the forty-two floor building.
The elevator opened into a small room. The drab grey walls held only a single stairway up to a door that read “Roof Access.” A worker went to the door and played with a set of keys trying to find the correct one to open the door. Another worker shoved a screwdriver into the elevator doors to jam them open. The third man grabbed a box and went up the stairs as the first got the door open. The second grabbed a box as well. Shintaro pitched in. Shoving his sword into his belt, he took a box. “Go up,” he told Emiko and Sarah. “I will help them to make this quicker.”
Sarah and Emiko ran up the stairs, with Shintaro lugging a box behind them. The first worker kicked a block under the door to keep it open. After a few minutes, the boxes were stacked neatly, and the roof door closed, as the helicopter approached and landed. The men blocked the boxes with their bodies to keep the lids from blowing off and the papers from scattering. When the rotors had died down, the side door of the helicopter slid open, and the men began piling the boxes inside. Shintaro helped once more.
“Who are they?” the pilot said to the worker who had spoken with Itto.
“Itto insists we take them as well,” he answered. “The man with the sword is Shintaro Wakayama.”
A look of shock crossed the pilot’s face and he seemed impressed. “All right, then,” he said, as he started the engines back up, “get them on board.”
Before they could board, Itto burst onto the roof. He was covered in blood, and his clothes were torn. His left leg was a mess of blood and exposed muscle. It looked as if he had stepped in a paper shredder. He left a thick trail of blood behind him. Shintaro’s sword was out of his belt as he crossed over to see what had happened. He knelt down next to Itto.
“Ichiro attacked us,” he said, as he coughed up blood. “We shot him over fifty times, and he kept attacking. He killed Takeshi in the elevator. The others are dead. I almost didn’t get away. He tore at my leg like a wild animal. Takeshi should have been dead outside! How was he able to come back? How did Ichiro survive? His throat was gone.”
“Itto,” Shintaro said, “did Ichiro bite you?”
“As we struggled in the elevator,” Itto said, coughing up more blood, “he may have bitten me.”
“Is there ammunition left in your gun?” Shintaro said, looking down at the Glock in Itto’s hand.
“Yes,” Itto said, looking down as well. “He stopped after I shot him in the head.”
“Use one on yourself, Itto san,” Shintaro said, sorrow filling his features, “or you will become what Ichiro became. Along with all those people now killing on the streets below.”
Itto looked shocked and horrified. The lead worker came over to them. “He is hurt,” the man said. “We have to get him on the helicopter.”
“If you do, he will kill you all,” Shintaro said. “He has been infected. He will not live much longer, and when he dies, he will become an animal.”
The man snatched the gun from Itto and pointed it at Shintaro. “You’re crazy!” he said. “Get away from him!”
The man called the other two over, and they lifted Itto up and carried him over to the helicopter. “You cannot!” Shintaro roared, and the man with the gun tensed, keeping it pointed at Shintaro.
“We’re leaving,” he said, backing away. “Stay where you are, or I will shoot you.”
“But the women,” Shintaro began, “ they must be taken to safety.”
“No,” the man said, beginning to yell to be heard over the rotors. “You are
all crazy. Come near this helicopter, and I will kill all of you.”
“You cannot leave them here!” Shintaro said, taking a step forward.
The man pulled the trigger from fear and the shot embedded itself into the roof. His eyes were wide as he looked from the bullet hole to Shintaro. “Stay away,” he said, as he climbed into the helicopter and closed the door behind him.
The helicopter lifted off from the roof. Shintaro had no doubt those men were canceling the last helicopter to this building. They were on their own. “Goddamn you!” Shintaro screamed at the departing chopper.
He looked back at Emiko and Sarah, who were both crying. He would get them both out of this city alive. This was merely a setback. “All right,” he said to them, “back downstairs. There has to another way out of the building where those people at the front can’t see us.” He repeated what he had said in English for Sarah.
***
An emergency exit brought them out onto East 49th street. They turned right and headed for Lexington Avenue. The airport was too far away. He did not want to be stuck in the Lincoln tunnel, which was no doubt gridlocked by now. He wanted out of the city. Going east would only take them into Brooklyn and Queens. More city. He wanted to get out into the country. The George Washington Bridge was their only choice for that. It was a two and a half hour walk under good conditions. He had to try. These ladies were his responsibility. He had to try.
As they approached the intersection of East 49th and Lexington, Shintaro saw smoke. As they got closer, Shintaro made out what used to be the blade of a helicopter. He could make out a mangled burning husk. The chopper had struck the building on the corner and come down in the street. Itto must have died and come back. Those poor, stupid fools. Shintaro led the girls down Lexington. The GPS on his phone was really leading the way. It was a straight shot down Lexington, followed by some twists and turns, and they would be at the bridge. He only hoped they did not run into any more of the infected.
“The chances of that are low,” Shintaro said to himself.
As they reached East 59th Street, Shintaro saw his first obstacle. A massive accident had taken place at the intersection. Over a dozen cars had destroyed each other. The street was completely blocked. “This way,” he said, as they turned left down East 59th.
“We can cut through the park,” Shintaro said to Emiko, looking at his phone, “Hopefully we will run into fewer people that way, too.”
“I hope you are right, Wakayama san,” Emiko answered. “This city is becoming more dangerous by the minute.”
Shintaro knew she was right. Seeking refuge at the consulate was a mistake. He saw that now. However, if he had not gone that way, Sarah would still be locked in that bathroom or dead. The heavens had an odd way of bringing circumstances together. None of that mattered now. What mattered was safety and getting out of this city. The only place to be safe was the country. If they made it into New Jersey, perhaps it would be less dangerous, and he could even get a car to the nearest airport away from Manhattan and the rest of New York. He had to try.
As they entered Central Park, Shintaro noticed fewer people, which confirmed his guess. They stayed in the woods and away from the drives, which would no doubt be clogged with cars and the infected. The woods were empty. It was as if the animals themselves knew what was coming and were all in hiding. Not one squirrel or bird crossed their path as they came to the outskirts of the Central Park Zoo. They were now traveling between East Drive and the zoo. Shintaro could make out cars on the street. They moved slowly, but the cars were moving.
Shintaro thought for a moment to go out and try to flag a taxi. He had second thoughts when he envisioned being trapped in a car in standstill traffic surrounded by crazed killers. They pressed on through the park, avoiding the roadway. “Mr. Wak,” Sarah said, “I’m tired.”
“I know, Teacup,” Shintaro said. “But we have to get out of the city and away from the bad people trying to hurt us.” He stopped and knelt on the ground. “Here,” he said, motioning to his back. “Climb on, and I will carry you.”
Shintaro shoved the sheathed weapon into his belt, and Sarah got onto his back. They started off once more. Sarah’s weight barely slowed him. Emiko smiled behind them. As much as Wakayama tried to appear to be a hard man, he was a gentle soul inside and put others before his own needs. It was one of the reasons Emiko enjoyed working for the man. Although he was a butcher in the business world, his demeanor changed outside of the confines of work.
They came to the 65th Street Traverse. Now Shintaro saw strife. The traffic was stopped. Over a dozen of the infected roamed the street pounding on cars, trying to get to the people inside. It was almost humorous, like a person trying to get at the food inside of a can without an opener. One car had its windshield caved in, and the driver was dragged out into the street and torn apart. Another woman rolled her window down to yell at them. One of them jumped through her opened window and began eating her alive. No doubt there were similar scenes all over the city. Perhaps even worse.
Shintaro pressed on with Sarah on his back He could hear Emiko behind him, crying for the poor souls dying right in front of their eyes. They heard the sound of something scraping against the rock behind them. They all turned to see two of the infected pulling themselves up over the side of the bridge. “Down, child,” Shintaro said, as he knelt down to let Sarah off of his back. “Emiko, behind me,” he said in Japanese, as he thumbed the blade an inch out of its scabbard for easy drawing. The infected fell to the ground as they brought the rest of their bodies over the side, then they stood up and ran at them.
Shintaro planted his feet in preparation for battle. It would be hard to fend both of them off and keep the girls safe. “You must move with me,” he told Emiko, without taking his eyes off of their attackers. “Stay behind me. Keep me in between you and them.”
The infected never made it to them. There were two sharp cracks of gunshots and they both went down hard in a jumble, blood spraying from the back of their heads. Shintaro turned to see where the shots had come from. Off to the right stood two men. Each wore camouflage pants, sunglasses, and baseball caps. One was a head taller than the other, standing around six foot two. He had a full black beard trimmed neatly and wore a yellow shirt with a coiled snake on it. The other man was around Shintaro’s height and wore a black shirt with a white American flag on it. His facial brown hair seemed only a few days old. Each man wore an olive green tactical vest and carried an M-4 rifle.
“You folks OK?” the shorter of the pair said.
“Yes,” Shintaro said. “Thank you for the help.”
“Where you guys headed?” the taller man said.
“I have to get these ladies out of the city,” Shintaro replied, securing his sword in its scabbard once more. “Before this gets even worse.”
“And it will,” the taller man said.
The shorter man shot the other a quick look before looking back. “We could get you out,” the man said. “Might be a bit of a chore, but if you’re willing…”
“I will do anything,” Shintaro said. “These girls have to get out.”
“All right,” the shorter man replied as he turned to start walking. “Let’s get moving.”
“I’m Shepard,” the tall man said. “He’s Maxwell. C’mon. Times a-wastin’.”
“Can we trust them?” Emiko asked in Japanese.
“We have no choice,” Shintaro said. “We must get out of the city. These men may be our best chance.”
Shintaro took Sarah’s hand and Emiko the other. They followed the two men, hoping this was not another grave mistake.
***
Contact was minimal and put down quickly by Maxwell and Shepard. These men were professionals. They were not mere weekend warriors. They had seen real combat. Perhaps even Black Ops. Shintaro saw their movements, one covering the other, each one taking the opposite direction of the other. They killed six of the infected during the rest of their jaunt through the park, each time
taking them down with well-placed single head shots. What were men like these doing operating in New York City?
They came out on Central Park West not far from a traffic circle. Parked there was a huge black truck. It was like a hybrid of a pickup and a Hummer. Its chassis was almost three feet off the ground, and the frame was supported by huge, deep-treaded tires. Running boards helped those climbing into the monster vehicle. The front of the vehicle had a V-shaped inverted plow. Shintaro noticed a mounted machine gun on the back of the truck. This was no joyride.
“OK,” Maxwell said. “Everyone meet Agatha. Agatha meet everyone. Climb aboard, people.”
“Shotgun,” Shepard said, covering their entrance into the truck. Shintaro got Emiko and Sarah into the back and climbed in last. Shepard took his place in the front passenger seat and rolled his window down. “This was originally made for a combat zone,” Shepard said, as he noticed Emiko’s puzzled look. “Windows are all bullet proof. I don’t expect to run into much gunfire from these things.”
“She doesn’t speak very good English,” Shintaro said and translated for Emiko, who still looked nervous but understood Shepard’s intentions with the window.
“Do you know what is going on?” Shintaro asked, buckling Sarah in. “What is wrong with these people?”
“Not sure, friend,” Maxwell said, kicking the truck into gear and starting down the street. “One thing for sure. They’re dead.”
“What do you mean?” Shintaro asked.
“Well, they die and come back,” Maxwell said. “The only way to put them down is the head. So, they’re dead already when you kill them.”
“How?” Shintaro said, both fascinated and horrified.
“No clue,” Shepard said from the passenger seat. He did not even turn as he spoke, “It’s viral, that’s for sure. People who die from the attacks are getting back up to kill. We’ve seen it.”
Silence of the Apoc_Tales From The Zombie Apocalypse Page 16