by Evans, Mike
Jude looked at him, shaking his head. “What did you want me to do? I had both my hands full. I could have maybe brought the saw up and knocked him in the face with it, but somehow I think that would have made things worse. What do you think, Chuck?”
Chuck was having phantom pains over the kick. “I definitely wouldn’t want to have one of those saws hit me in the head, but goddamn, it hurts getting kicked in the tenders.”
Jude shrugged; there wasn’t anything else to say. When Chuck was finally quiet, they heard Lionel Richie singing "Hello".
“I love this song," Leslie said. "Don’t you guys love this?”
Chuck, being filter less, grumbled, “Oh, I hope the zombies eat his ass first. I don’t mean a little nibble, either—I mean I want him to answer the door and say hello, just to have a bunch of zombies pick his ass apart.”
When the doors opened, Leslie gripped Chuck’s shoulder, holding him back. “You do realize saying stupid shit like that isn’t going to get you anywhere with me?”
Chuck said, “Is there any way I can get somewhere with you?”
“Not saying stuff like that. Better to be with someone and hate the music than be by yourself with your hand, right?”
Chuck’s face lit up at this. “You know what? That is exactly the kind of shit you need to say to encourage my ass to be good.”
Leslie ran out, leaving him standing there. Chuck smiled, watching her leave. He yelled, “I love watching you go, sweet cheeks.”
When they ran out onto the news floor, they got the same looks they had received when they had entered the building. The half a dozen people near the elevator flattened themselves against the walls or ran around the corner. A few of the women and one of the men let out shrill screams.
Charlie said, “You guys think it’s a good idea for us to keep running everywhere holding all this shit?”
“You can set yours down anytime you want," Jude grunted. "But I’m not leaving mine anywhere for any reason.”
Charlie looked at the saw, thinking about the walking dead not more than a block away, and decided yes, maybe it was not a bad idea to keep it on him.
The group ran through the hallways, looking like a band of crazies. They found a map on the wall and followed it until they found the newsroom. When they pushed the door open, a shot rang out from behind them. The five of them crouched purely by instinct. The report of the gun echoed throughout the hallway, instantly sending all of their ears into a deafening ringing. Turning around, they saw Howard with his gun up in the air.
Howard screamed at the top of his lungs, mostly because he couldn’t hear anything after the shot. “You put those damn saws and everything down right now!”
Jude said, “Did you just fire that gun above you?”
Howard looked at the hole in the ceiling and nodded. “Didn’t you hear me? I said to put those damn saws down and do it now—what does it matter to you, anyhow?”
“There’s more than seven floors to this building, you asshole," Jude snapped. "There could be people up there for god sakes!”
Mark moved past Howard with his nightstick. He gripped Jude by the shoulder. “Didn’t you hear the man with the gun? He said to put that damn saw down and do it now!”
Jude nodded at this, setting his saw down and coming back up with a ferocious right hook. He caught Mark across the chin and knew that the kid was out for the count when a smile fell across his face. He dropped his baton and fell to the floor, still smiling. Jude looked up at Howard; the guard was not taking any other chances and his pistol was now aimed directly at Jude. It was shaking badly enough in his hands that Jude wondered if the man might be having a seizure. Jude held up his hands. “We need to get a message out to the public. We have something they need to know!”
Howard said, “I tell y'all what, this gun holds six bullets. It's missing one now. The next person who says something is going to get one of them delivered at a speed you cannot possibly imagine. Now put everything down, get your asses over here, and y'all put on these handcuffs.”
“Put your stuff down," Jude commanded. "This crazy ass looks like he’d really do it.”
The group set down an arsenal that could end the zombies and a small forest. As they walked toward Howard, Mark started to wake up.
“Mark, Mark are you okay?” Howard asked.
Mark pushed himself up, falling the first time. Everyone looked at him, and Jude nodded toward him. Chuck and Charlie gripped him around the arms, pulling him up to his feet. Chuck patted him on the back and said, “Okay, we're gonna let go. Are you okay?”
Mark nodded and immediately started to fall back to the ground. “Here we go, kid,” Chuck said as he gripped him again, and they waited a second for him to regain his footing before letting go.
When Mark stood on his own, Howard yelled, "Get your cuffs onto those men. If you got enough of them, then get them women in handcuffs, too.”
Mark hesitated, but got out the cuffs. He made extra sure that Jude’s were as tight as he could get them.
Jude said, “You know, real soon you are going to regret doing this. You're costing millions of people their damn lives right now. I mean, those who haven’t risen as the dead yet.”
Mark pushed Jude forward. “There's more to life than drugs. You should try and find something to fill your days with.”
Jude, who could see this being his end, yelled, “Would you shut the fuck up? You don’t know what you're talking about, you dumb son of a bitch. Let’s get this over with so we can all get killed.”
Howard started to wonder if the stranger was not quite crazy after all. They walked to the elevator, calling it back up, and ushered the group in, leaving the gear on the floor where they had set it down.
“You guys are going to regret this," Jude repeated. "You don't know what you're doing. You would probably be a hell of a lot smarter staying on this floor than going back down, anyway. But I got a feeling that smart isn’t the best way to describe you two.”
Howard said, “Well, the cops are going to be here soon. They said they had a lot going on right now, but they'll be here eventually. You feel free to remain quiet. You can assume that I read you your Miranda rights.”
Jude leaned around, looking at Howard's chest, and said, “You know, I’m just a small-town Iowan boy, but the last time I saw one of our officers, they didn’t have their names sewn into their shirts, and their badges were made of metal, not plastic.”
Howard was about to speak, but Mark cut him off. “Are you kidding me? They don’t let just anyone get this job. The management team makes you watch a four-hour video before they give you one of these badges.”
Chuck said, “Like, a whole four hours before you got your badge, or did you get a break?”
“We got a break—and a lunch—so really, it was about a couple hours. You can learn a lot in that time, though.”
Everyone, including Howard, stared and shook their heads. “Would you shut up, Mark?" Howard muttered. "Christ, you sound like you're talking out your ass. You might know that, if you listened to yourself once in a while.”
Mark said, “Dude, you aren’t doing anything to help the situation here.”
The elevator doors opened, and nothing else needed to be said. Howard pushed the intruders out first, in front of him, keeping the gun in hand and ready. “You can wait in the office next to the entrance until the police show up. You can’t cause any more trouble in there.”
Chuck said, “You realize when the cops come here, there’s going to be hell to pay for firing off a shot inside of the building, right?”
“Your boy assaulted my man. The police won’t have any problems with me whatsoever. You don’t cause any further trouble, and we won't have them throw the book at you.”
Charlie actually started laughing at this. “Oh, my God, if we promise to behave, will you, like, promise to shut up? I don’t know what cop show you watch, but it has to be, like, from 1960 or something. There’s no way it’s current.”
Jude screamed, “No, don’t let her in! Don’t open that door!”
Howard yelled, “Shut up, can’t you see that woman is in trouble? Jesus, what kind of a monster are you? She needs our help.”
“She’s going to kill you! You are going to get all of us killed—listen to me, you fucking idiot!”
Howard pushed him out of the way. He tucked the gun behind his back and into his belt.
Mark said, “Hey, Howard, I think this lady's in shock.”
When Mark turned back toward her, she gripped his chest, pulling him in. He lost his balance and fell her direction. When he tried standing back up, she leaned in and gripped onto his neck. She clenched hard with her front teeth, getting a mouthful of flesh. He tried to pull back and she let him, but when he did she kept the skin in her mouth. Blood poured down his neck and he screamed, trying his best to grip the wound. Blood escaped through his fingers. He struggled to speak, but couldn't find his voice.
“Oh, my God!" Howard screamed. "Oh, my fucking God, Mark, are you okay? Mark, say something!”
When Mark turned around, Howard saw the blood squirting from his neck. The woman reached forward again, dragging a bloodied and frantic Mark back and falling on top of him. Mark screamed and Howard ran forward, pulling the pistol out of his pants. “Get off of him now, do you hear me?”
When she did not comply, Howard gripped her by the shoulder and tried pulling her off. The woman in white latched onto his wrist with her mouth, tearing away a piece of his skin and immediately going for a second and third chunk before taking a step back to chew. Howard screamed, wild-eyed and unsure what to do.
He looked back to Jude, who only shook his head. Jude refused to tell a doomed man I told you so; he knew it would do no good at this point.
Howard brought up his gun, leveling it from a foot away at his target, and pulled the trigger. Her head snapped violently back and the impact sent her sliding across the floor, leaving a crimson blood-smear across the checkered tiles. He turned around, yelling to Jude, “I need help! I need your help!”
Jude took a step forward, getting a better look at the wound and thinking of Kindra and the others. “You don’t need help, you need a priest. If I were you, I’d say your prayers, put that gun in your mouth, and eat one of those bullets. Save yourself from hurting anyone else.”
As Mark writhed on the ground, still screaming, Howard cried, “I don’t understand what you're talking about, mister! What the fuck is happening here? Why did she bite me—what is happening?”
Jude said, “It’s Hell getting unleashed. I could tell you the story, but you don’t have long enough to repeat it to anyone else. You’ll be one of them soon enough.”
Mark went quiet and still. Howard glanced at his friend, only to see the woman whose head he had just put a .44 caliber bullet through rise back up. He took a second and third shot through her chest; it knocked her backwards, but this time did not take her to the ground. She continued her approach, and he continued to shoot until the pistol dry-fired and she fell into him, gripping onto his nose. Howard stumbled backwards and into the doors to the building, hitting the release and landing on the sidewalk. The dead outside had taken notice of the noise and movement, crowding toward the doors, and instantly set to making a meal of Howard. He screamed until the blood choked his voice.
Jude turned around, ushering his companions back. Charlie was frozen in shock, and Jude put his shoulder into him, pushing him forward. “We gotta go, Charlie. Move, kid, move!”
“But what are we gonna do?” Charlie asked.
Jude said, “We are gonna get the fuck off this floor before those things come after us!”
When he turned around, he saw a horde of the dead coming their way. Mark and Howard reached for them, large flaps of skin hanging from their necks, arms, and stomachs. Their once starch, white, clean dress shirts were now mangled, bloodied, and torn to shreds. It would be the outfit they would wear for the rest of the apocalypse. They saw Jude and the others, and their sluggish walk became a run—and, unlike Jude and the others, there would be no slowing down, no getting out of breath, and no getting tired. They also had one large advantage: Jude's group were still handcuffed.
Jude and the others ran to the bank of elevators. They each hit a button to go up, but all of the elevators were picking up potential victims. They headed toward the stairs, and Charlie ran to the fire alarm. Jude looked back, seeing his fingers outstretched to pull down on the alarm. He screamed "No!" as he ran straight for the kid, not slowing down in the least as he approached. He put his weight forward, bending down, and put a shoulder into Charlie's ribs. When Jude connected, he knocked the man four feet backwards and skidded on the ground with Charlie. He rolled to his knees and then sat, bending his feet as low as he could, and swung his legs back through his arms, pulling the cuffs out in front of him.
He helped Charlie to his feet. Charlie, who looked as dazed and confused as the other three, said, “Fucking Christ, what the fuck? Are you crazy? Why in the hell did you do that? I was trying to warn people. I thought that was what we were here for?”
“Are you stupid, kid?" Jude demanded. "Do you really think you're going to do any good? You think people aren't going to want to come down and exit the building once they hear a fire alarm?”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“You guess so. Well, I’d say you're probably damn spot on. Now think about the fact that you're probably going to bring an entire building of clueless people to the ground floor into a personal Hell they can't possibly be prepared for. I remember specifically asking you if you were gonna be a pain in the ass. You said no, sir, you wouldn’t. Well, you need to make damn sure to live up to your word, kid."
Before Charlie could respond, the dead entered the hallway. The group sprinted up the stairs, doing their absolute best to not trip and face-plant on the steps. Jude was the only one who had his hands in front of him, and each time someone looked like they were going to go down, he charged forward a step, lifting them back to their feet. When the elevators they had frantically been calling for arrived, the dead filled the cars, giving them a one-way ticket to infesting the remainder of the building.
Jude rounded the corner.
Chuck was breathing heavily and gasping. He yelled, “Christ, did the thought ever come across your little mind, Jude, that maybe, just maybe, we might want to, like, exit a landing and run to the elevators? Do you have any idea how many flights of stairs we have to take to get to the seventh floor?”
The rest of the group all yelled, "Six, Chuck!" at the same time.
He said, “And none of you all think the elevators are a good idea? Good Lord, you must like being tired and winded, huh?”
When they rounded the sixth floor, they stopped for a minute, catching their breath. Jude said, “If you're so damn smart, maybe you ought to have said something after, maybe, floor two. We could have gone out before we got to the point that it didn’t make any sense to waste the time on the elevators.”
“Well, next time I'll try and think of this shit quicker. Sorry the answer didn't rush through my brain while I was handcuffed and running from a horde of zombies.”
Jude left him there, complaining, making the final bit of the run as hard as he could. When Jude made it to the top, he never thought he could have been more thankful to see his equipment in his life. He sprinted over, grabbing the axe, holding it sloppily at first. He hurried to the rest of the group as they made it up the stairs and grabbed Chuck first.
/> Chuck put his hands up and let them rest against the railing. “Slow and steady, Jude, slow and steady, brother.”
Jude brought the axe high overhead and down with just enough power to chop through the chain. When Chuck's hands were no longer chained, he took the axe and returned the favor for Jude. Within a minute, the handcuffs were little more than fancy bracelets for all of them.
Jude picked up his chainsaw and the rest of his gear. Before he had everything situated, a ding, ding, ding sounded from down the hallway. Jude turned toward the elevator bank. The dead had crammed themselves into the cars, pressing against the buttons indiscriminately. Now, they swarmed from the elevators which had reached the seventh floor. Among them were the two security guards.
“We need to hold off on getting our message out until we get a chance to clear out some of these here dead,” Jude said.
The rest nodded, and the once peaceful and quiet hallway erupted with the roar of chainsaws revving up to full throttle. Chuck and Jude, the only two with previous experience using the saws, took the lead, ready to rock and roll. Jude, not looking back, yelled over his shoulder, “If any of these make it past us, you do your damnedest to take them out. They can’t get through here, or these people are all screwed.”
The girls both nodded, jumping each time they hit the gas. Charlie figured his saw out and walked forward with confidence to work next to Chuck and Jude. The three men made their way to the dead. Their stomachs rolled when Howard somehow caught the flesh hanging from his face on a brick wall. Once he realized what was keeping him from progressing, he grabbed at it, pulling the skin from his own face and clawing at it until his bare skull showed. Howard advanced, taking bites of the loosened flesh as he came for the men.