Instinct took over and turned her dive for the ground into a half-assed forward roll. She came up on unsteady feet just in time to knock aside another punch. Then a kick came at her, and she slapped down with what little strength she had. It got through, though, and she was pushed back into the pile of bodies. She recoiled as much in horror as at the fear of getting caught in a corner, unable to fight back. She was not the kind to timidly tuck her head between her arms and hope the worst would be over soon.
“Remember me, you fucking bitch?”
Mike
Panic laced the air as I broke out of the exhibition center and found daylight. The nightmare behind, I fled into the light and wondered if I had a chance in hell of making it to the train. Already, the milling masses were not so still anymore. Crowds of gawkers looked toward the train station not a hundred feet away while the pounding of gunfire made many flinch.
I broke into a group of people, hoping they would hide me. I wasn’t going to flee so much as just blend in. I jostled a few and even brandished my stolen ID card, the one with the government seal that had gotten me out of the building in the first place.
I moved, didn’t exactly run, but walked with quick steps. The crowds parted for me as I looked up and acted like I was on some kind of errand or, better yet, had the right of way. When I ran into a blockade of bodies, I pushed through as gently as I could. Some looked at me with bemused or exasperated glances, but most ignored my antics.
I broke out into the entrance to the stadium and took the stairs two at a time. At the top, I paused for a moment to look behind, but I was unable to pick out any of my pursuers. If some of them were still after me, I would have expected to see guns in the air or hear shouts. If they had not given up, they were certainly keeping a low profile.
The sound of gunfire grew louder, as did the thump of helicopters as they hovered overhead. The wind was so strong from the choppers’ rotors that I felt it from a hundred feet away. It was cool on my skin, a welcome alternative to the blasted miserable heat. I would never be one to criticize Seattle for being too hot. I usually stayed indoors, out of the sun, and enjoyed the climate control on the job. At night, the old house grew plenty cold, and when heat hung around the house, I was able to relax under a fan with my shirt off.
The air actually felt good, and I wanted to just stand in it for a few moments. It took me back to a time a few years ago when we had attended a local fair as a family. That day was supposed to be cool, but the heat had risen like a furnace. With the press of people, it had been even hotter. The stench of animals and offal hit us as we checked out a petting barn. Andy stared at everything with wide eyes and wanted to touch every creature within reach. A pen held a prize-winning sow and a whole litter of piglets. A couple moved aside to let Andy near the fence. He stuck his fingers through the chain links and let one of the little piglets nibble at his finger. He did it fearlessly, like he knew the tiny animal with a wagging tail was unable to harm him.
When I tried to drag him away, afraid that he might get hurt, he fought back. Rita stared on with a happy look plastered to her face. She was content to let me “be the dad” while she swam in an alcoholic daze. The bottle was never far—sometimes in a pocket, but most likely buried at the bottom of her purse. Her drinking was bad before Andy died, and afterwards, she lost herself to the sickness and tried to fix it with pain pills and enough antidepressants to cure a psych ward. She pretended that I didn’t know, and I pretended to go along.
That same day, we wandered into a different barn, one with a massive air conditioner mounted over the entrance. While it wasn’t cold inside, it was fun to stand under the air as it rushed over us. Andy giggled, and I smiled, closed my eyes and declared that they could go on without me and come back in an hour or two and find me. Rita told us to enjoy it for a few minutes while she went to the bathroom. She came back about twenty minutes later to find us looking at a sports car that was on display. It was a newer model, something I would never buy, because it was too impractical.
Rita glazed over the car, stood on her tiptoes and kissed me. She smelled of strawberries, chocolate and vodka. At least it was relatively inoffensive. When she carried wine, it was always a sour stench, like a belch waiting to happen.
That had been a wonderful day. I would have given just about anything to go back to it, but I was stuck in this living hell.
Was Rita even alive out there? I had to find out, but to do that, I had to get to the train.
The entrance to the station had already been crowded, but now that the deaders had arrived, it was a madhouse. The guards tried their best to keep order, but there was no way it would last. They could scare people, maybe shoot their guns into the air or, if they were crazy, shoot into the crowd. If that happened, there would be a mass panic the likes of which we hadn’t seen since the very first day.
A loud dinging started up, and I got my first sight of salvation.
Lights flashed, and the noise grew as one of the trains came into view. It had a massive white engine that was as tall as a double-decker bus. I wasn’t sure how many people the train would hold, but as it trundled toward us, I thought it might be a few thousand. If they ran them nonstop out of the field at full speed, even if they could get everyone loaded on time, each trip would be quite long, since they would have to get them to a train stop somewhere along the way, unload and then come back. Not to mention the nightmare of arranging all the trains on the tracks. If the government were smart, they probably wouldn’t have regular lines towing massive loads of supplies through the cities. Trains likely sat idle while Seattle was in a state of lockdown.
Speculation, all of it. I had no idea how any of this worked. All I knew was that I wanted to be on the train, this train, the first one, because every second I wasted was a second I wasn’t protecting Rita. After my failure with Erin, the least I could do was to save my ex-wife.
The entryway lay ahead, and it was a half-formed mad-scientist lab of fences, guard stations, large white tents, and more guns than I wanted to see. After the madness of the entryway half an hour ago, I was not too excited to see so many weapons in the hands of twitchy military personnel.
Kids, nothing more. Faces no older than their early twenties and, in more than one case, barely out of high school. I stared at the untested youth and hoped the panicked looks didn’t translate into panicked shooting. Christ, this was a nightmare.
I flashed my badge as I moved to the first checkpoint. The old Amtrak building had an entryway and some kind of winding hell inside. I kept the face on the badge covered, hoping they would just give me a cursory look and usher me on. I put on my flustered face, tugged the white jacket tightly around my body, and sucked down the nervousness that was bleeding into my stomach, making me wish I had some antacid.
“Is there a shortcut, soldier?” I asked in a harried voice. I thrust the badge at his young face, then pocketed it as fast as I could. I was already moving past him when he held up an arm.
“Hold up, sir,” he said. I swallowed hard when he turned toward another man, this one just as young but sporting at least one more stripe on his arm. I wasn’t inside the building yet, so if I was going to make a run for, it this was my last chance. If they took me inside, I might end up being detained, and that would be the end of my exit.
“He’s with me,” a familiar voice called out. It had enough authority to make the guard turn.
Nelson strode toward the checkpoint like a general. It was good to have a friend like this who popped up from time to time to save my ass. He had his badge prominently displayed, a badge that was clean against the contrasting bloodstains on his shirt. I almost smiled but then wondered if he was trying to stop me. Did the scientist tell me too much? Was all revealed so that they couldn’t let the newspaper guy escape with the secret of the virus?
Not much of a secret; everyone in the vicinity of the field knew what was really going on, and they were also aware that it would be impossible to keep the virus contained. It was too late; they lost
the city the day the first victim was bitten.
Engineered viruses to kill cancer. The doctor behind that one should have been tortured and strung up. But his end was enough. Nelson had told us he died at the hands—and teeth—of patient zero. His own wife.
Nelson snatched the badge from my hand and waved it at the guard.
“This is Dr. Henkman, and he may be the most important man here. He needs to get out of here before Lazarus Black, is that understood, soldier?”
He spun away from the man, took my arm and escorted me toward the lines. The soldier didn’t say a word. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then looked toward the city.
Among the metal fences that were placed in a winding S, we fled. They weren’t secured to anything. I guess the military figured this would be an orderly retreat.
Nelson dragged me to the head of the line to the angry stares, and in some cases shouted jeers, of those who had been standing around before we arrived. After blustering through the checkpoint with my fake ID, then being rescued by my friend, I fully expected my luck to turn for the worse. If one of the troops didn’t stop me, I was sure this pack would tear us apart. But we were saved by the sudden dinging of bells as the train inched up a few feet. It shuddered to a halt, then let out an explosion of air, like a loud gasp, as it came to a halt. I jumped back, as did others who were too close to the edge of the track.
The fact that Nelson was in uniform and had a couple of weapons kept everyone from getting too worked up. I scanned the crowd for Kate but didn’t see any sign of her. The telltale sign of her sword poking up from behind her back would have been a dead giveaway. I knew she had made it this far. Where the hell was she?
Lester
The deaders screamed, tugged at the fence, and howled for blood. One section bowed in, so LeBeau ran over and kicked it back into place. He grabbed a brick and tossed it over the top, but it clattered to the ground, missing the mob by a healthy margin.
Lester grabbed the bar of metal and started swinging like he was going out for baseball practice. The lock bounced up and down but basically gave Lester the big old middle finger. He swung harder and harder, occasionally making contact.
“Easy, man!” Grinder yelled. “There are a lot of them and probably a hell of a lot more on the way.”
“‘Swhy I gotta bust this damn lock!” Les said and swung again. The old guy barged in beside him and took the pipe from his wife. Grandpa wasn’t in great shape, but he started swinging even harder than Les. They beat at the hunk of metal mercilessly for a full thirty seconds before Les leaned over to catch his breath.
“Don’t quit now!” LeBeau egged them on. “Break that bitch.”
LeBeau took the pistol out and pointed it at the first deader. Lester stared, wondering if the crazy man was going to start firing. Even if he emptied the gun and hit with every round, he would still have a small mob to contend with, and the noise was sure to draw even more.
“Gimme that.” Grinder took the bar and swung a couple of times. He made contact once, stopped, put the bar between his knees and blew on his hands.
Gramps wasn’t looking so great. He puffed like he was trying to breathe under water.
Grinder swung again and got another ringing blow that was probably heard by the entire city, including the refugees at the football stadium. That place was miserable, but it was a damn sight better than being stuck here. He’d trade at least one nut for the chance to be there now.
“Nice one,” Misty said in a small voice. She stood waiting on the sidelines, hands clenched under her chin. She looked like she was praying.
CLANG went the metal bar, but the lock stayed put.
A pair of large choppers beat overhead, then headed off toward the east. They both had double blades and moved like a couple of cows about to drop calves.
LeBeau stared up at the sky, scratched his head with the barrel of the gun and then stared some more. He grinned, and then his grin turned upside down, as Angela used to like to say, went right into a frowny situation that would have called for baby talk.
He missed her to death and would happily have taken a few seconds of her babbling if it was the last thing he ever heard from her. Instead, he had heard her scream of utter terror as she was ripped from his hands. Just like that poor fucker Mike. His girl torn out of his hands in the same way. He had reached for her, but that was the extent of his effort. The door had slammed shut, and he had sat there like the selfish asshole he had always been, unable to move, unable to react. Instead of making a move to rescue her, or join her, all he could think of was putting the gun under his chin and blowing his brains out. That was his last memory of Angela. Being so shit-scared all he could think to do was kill himself. He even screwed that up!
“Fucking monsters!” he yelled, not sure if he was referring to himself or to the things outside the gate. He took the bar back from Grinder and hit the lock so hard his hands rang. His arms went numb, but he went ahead and hit it again.
Then he noticed the silence and the lack of air. What the fresh hell now?
A pair of jets screamed overhead, but they weren’t moving as fast as some of the fighters he had seen. They were big ugly things with huge fuel tanks.
“Oh fuck me like a dog,” LeBeau gasped, then turned panicked eyes on Lester as he ran back toward them. Although they had known each other for only an hour or so, Lester couldn’t remember a time when he had seen the man look anything other than … well, batshit crazy. Now he looked terrified, and that rocked Les back on his heels.
“What is it?”
Les gasped as it grew difficult to breathe. He had never tackled a mountain, but it had to feel something like this. Like the air was just gone.
A silence descended, fell right down like someone had dropped a huge curtain over the place. The deaders stopped howling for a few seconds, but it was barely a respite before the air was pulled completely upward. A flash lit the sky brighter than the sun had any right to be.
“Get in the fucking door!” LeBeau screamed, and that was all it took for ol’ Les. He slammed the lock so hard that the bar bent and the lock fell into pieces. No way anyone was going to use that damn thing again. Master was pretty badass. The next time Les had to lock something up, he was going to head right to the section of the hardware store that sold the same brand. Might buy a stick of dynamite, too, just in case he ever lost the key.
The gate gave way at last, and the fence fell inward, letting the press of deaders inside the perimeter. If the door had opened a few seconds later, it would have been the end of them all. The howling of the dead was sucked into a vortex of sounds that culminated in a roar so loud it made Les feel like someone had shoved his head inside a bucket of cotton balls.
LeBeau kicked the door in so hard it struck the concrete entryway, bounced and slammed shut. Les was reaching for the doorframe at the time, intent on pulling himself in, and he almost lost a pair of fingers for the effort.
“IN!” LeBeau yelled and shoved Lester inside.
Les didn’t have time to catch his footing and went down inside the doorway. LeBeau was right behind him, dragging Grinder along for a ride that ended with all three of them sprawled over each other like three layers of the weirdest cake the city had ever seen.
Misty followed them through the door, tripped over the three and landed with her legs in the air. She yelped in pain, but it was drowned out by a layer of cursing that was hard to make out.
Then the real noise arrived.
It was like something out of hell. As if the very gates themselves had opened and Satan had stepped onto this plane to curse the world.
Lester yelled, but he couldn’t even hear his own voice as the blast of hellfire ripped the sky apart.
The four of them backed up, scooted on their butts as the old man was lit from behind.
The deaders were almost on them as the flames roared in. They consumed the creatures, and if Lester missed his mark, they were about to consume him. Inside the building or not
, there was no way they could avoid it. The tiny portal would feed the flames in, and they’d burn just as well as if they were standing outside.
Grandma, the kindly woman whose name Lester could not remember, looked back to see what all the commotion was about.
“Just get inside!” Les tried to yell, but his voice was again muffled.
Grandma tried to move, but her foot twisted, and she was down. No time, no time! Lester wanted to pound the wall at the horror. It was bad enough seeing the deaders everywhere, seeing them take everything from him. It was even worse to see this innocent woman about to be fodder for them and then for the flames.
But Gramps wasn’t having that. With what had to be his last ounce of strength, he grabbed his wife and staggered toward the door. They were going to make it. Lester wanted to stand up and cheer, call in the troops and offer this pair a twenty-one gun salute.
But the pair was not fast enough, and the deaders were on them. The old man staggered into the door frame and used his body to shove his wife through the opening. Then the flames came down. Grandpa—no, his name was Richard. Richard didn’t even try to stumble inside; that would have doomed them all. Instead, he reached out, grabbed the door and slammed it shut. The smaller lock clicked, and then the world came down around them.
Kate
The voice was familiar but strained. She ducked away from another blow, came out from beside the pile and threw a jab, pivoting on her feet as she did so. Her body turned what little energy she had into a devastating blow. If she were rested, stretched, warm and ready, she could put someone down with a similar strike.
She remembered to exhale as she struck, but she missed the figure’s face and instead took him in the shoulder, a meaty strike that spun him to the side. She moved with the blow and was past him.
Anders danced away and then came back with another kick. He wore military-issue boots that were heavy as lead. The extra weight gave her a split second to get out of the way, so he struck nothing but air.
Among the Dead Book 2 (Among the Living) Page 25