The Glass Hummingbird

by E. R. Mason

  The next morning, they hurried a continental breakfast, anxious to get down to the SCIP lab. This time Rogers wore low-cut, black, lace-up boots, and black, baggy paramilitary pants and shirt. She had an empty black utility belt and black gloves with the fingertips missing. Cassiopia, in jeans and a blue, collared work shirt, appraised her with curiosity. When they reached the lab, they tucked their SCIP door controllers away and stood back for the light show to begin.

  As the electronic door’s noise and lightning subsided, and the mirror glistened with reflection, they took their place at the top of the ramp and turned to the Professor for approval.

  He shook his head and said, “Oh dear. Okay. Anytime.”

  Together they burst through the mirror and emerged once again into the unknown of Dreamland.

  Their first vision was a hallway that led to a windowed double-door. Cassiopia turned and watched the secondary SCIP mirror fade quickly away behind her. The hallway was modern, part of a glass office building. Two gray-metallic, closed office doors were on the left, and a stairwell leading up on the right. They walked the length of the brown tiled floor and stood peering out the front door windows.

  “We’re okay,” said Rogers. “That’s a 2009 Chevy parked on the street out there.”

  “Thank goodness,” replied Cassiopia. “Finally, a stable environment. Let’s go out and have a look.”

  “This is Dupont Circle, Washington, D.C.!” proclaimed Rogers. “I know this place so well. See the top of the Washington Monument over there?”

  A mixture of old and new buildings made up both sides of the divided four-lane roadway in front of them. A tan, cement barrier between the lanes bore shade trees that appeared to be coming out of the concrete. The tallest building on the right was ash red brick and beside it another large office building of black glass. Cars crowded both sidewalks, and many were in the street. On the left, lampposts hung over the roadway with more trees standing behind them. Scaffolding climbed the front of the office building nearest them. The sky was a milky blue, with flagpoles rising from the rooftops, their banners waving gently in the breeze. An overabundance of street signs were scattered around the curbs and islands.

  But something was wrong. There were no people. The air had an unfamiliar taste to it. Rogers noticed a car had crashed into a building farther down. There were newspapers blowing in the street. A trash bin was overturned, its contents scattered on the sidewalk. In an alcove nearby, a door to a shop was open, broken, and swinging in the wind.

  They stepped into the street and looked for signs of life.

  Rogers murmured, “Uh-oh.”

  Cassiopia did not understand. “There’s no one! Oh, wait. I see some people way down at the end there. They’re headed this way.”

  Rogers looked in the other direction. A block away, there was a car parked on the sidewalk. There was a chair in the middle of the road. She thought she saw movement beyond it.

  “It’s time to leave, Cass.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  “I think it’s my fault.”

  “What? Those people are coming. We could talk to them and ask where everyone is.”

  “Those aren’t nice people.”

  “What?”

  “Hurry. Let’s get back.” Rogers grabbed Cassiopia by the arm and pulled her back into the building. They walked briskly down the hall. Rogers kept her controller in hand. She hit the recall button and waited. The door did not appear.

  “Oh no. Not now. Try yours. Hurry.”

  Cassiopia sensed Rogers’ concern. She found her controller and hit the recall button. Nothing happened. Rogers tried her control again, repeatedly. No door.

  “Those people are here. They’re coming in. Eww!”

  Faces outside the windows were approaching. They did not look human. They were torn, and bloody, and dead, their clothes ragged and dirty. Rogers again grabbed Cassiopia by the arm and ran toward them to reach the stairwell. They swung around and up just as the doors burst open. The windows fractured with a loud crash, and glass rained down on the floor.

  The two women raced up the stairs, turning at the top of each set, climbing further upward. They could not see their pursuers following, but they could hear them.

  On the fifth floor, the stairwell ended. Winded, they found a ladder leading up to the rooftop hatchway. Without speaking, they climbed, unlatched it, and forced it open. On the roof, Rogers slammed it shut, and looked for something to block it. There was nothing. She looked around for an escape, but there were no adjoining buildings. She raced around the perimeter of the roof and found no fire escape. On the street below, the agitated crowd had grown much larger. Many were continuing to enter the building.

  Rogers called to Cassiopia. “Over here!”

  Cassiopia sprinted up beside her.

  “This is our best bet. It’s only six feet, and that’s a parking garage. We can find a car maybe.”

  “What are they?”

  “There’s no time. They’ll be up here any second. We’ve got to jump.”

  “Oh my god!”

  “Oh please, don’t start that again. That roof is gravel. It should be a safe jump. You first.”

  “Me first? I don’t want to be first!”

  “You’ve got to go first because I can’t risk you chickening out and not doing it.”

  “Who’s chicken? Okay. I’ll go.” Cassiopia peered over the edge, and then at the adjacent roof. She turned back to protest and then changed her mind. She backed up several steps and braced herself. Rogers watched the rooftop hatchway nervously and bit her lip.

  With a low grunting sound, Cassiopia ran with all her might. She reached the edge and leaped out over the alleyway, running through the air as she went. On the opposite side, one foot caught on the short wall bordering the rooftop forcing her to fall forward on her hands on the gravel and tar. She rolled in an unflattering tumbled, sat up and looked back at Rogers. Rogers wasted no time. She dashed across making the jump easily, landing on her feet and stopping short. Cassiopia climbed up and brushed herself off. Rogers cautiously surveyed the area.

  “Let’s get going. We need to find a car and get out of here.”

  They climbed down to the fifth level where dozens of cars offered a possible escape. Each took an aisle and trotted from car to car looking for keys. Cassiopia found a late model, black SUV and motioned over the car tops. The driver’s door was open, and the keys were on the ground next to it. She climbed in, fumbled to find the right key, and twisted the ignition. The engine roared to life. A moment later, Rogers climbed in. No words were necessary. Cassiopia backed out and headed for the exit ramp.

  “What are they?”

  “They’re zombies. I’m sorry. It’s my fault.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It was the TV last night. I love zombie movies. My favorite one was on, ‘Shaun of the Dead.' I fell asleep watching it. I didn’t think it would matter.”

  “I don’t know about zombies.”

  “Haven’t you ever watched TV?”

  “I’ve seen a little of that stuff flipping through channels, but I never stopped to watch. It was too gory for me.”

  “Well, all you need to know is that they only want one thing. They want to bite you. That’s really all you need to know.”

  “Why do they want to bite you?”

  “It’s usually a super epidemic that changes people into monsters. If they bite you, you could change into one, too.”

  “Ann, you may be too high caliber for this place. Clearly, you’re the one creating the Dreamland environments.”

  “Hey, I’m no more high caliber than Scott Markman. When we were working together, it seemed like he was either in a fight or in some kind of trouble every five minutes.”

  “Well, that’s true.”

  “Do you know he and I even ended up stark naked in a closet together once?”

  Cassiopia slammed on the brakes, squealing the vehicle to a stop. “What?”

>   “Oh don’t get your panties all in a wad. It was an accident.”

  “Two people end up naked in a closet together and you’re telling me it was an accident. Do you think I’m an idiot or something?”

  “No, not at all. Your IQ tests registered genius level….twice!”

  “Okay, explain to me how two people can end up naked in a closet together by accident.”

  “We were hiding…?”

  “From what?”

  “Oh boy, you’re not going to believe this part.”

  “I already don’t believe you. I’m waiting….”

  “We were hiding from zombies!”

  “Very funny. If you’re not going to tell me, I’ll just ask him when I can.” Cassiopia stomped on the gas and squealed around the turn.

  “Okay, but I’d like to be there when you do. I’d hate to miss that one.”

  Cassiopia worked the accelerator and brakes, racing around the curving exit ramp, nearly scrapping the waist-high cement walls that enclosed it. The fourth and third levels were open and easy, but as they approached the second level, a problem appeared.

  In the center of the ramp, a decrepit man in torn coveralls waited. One arm appeared to be broken and useless, the other waving erratically. The man’s black hair was wet and tangled, and his face darkened and bleeding. He made no attempt to clear the road and continued his advance toward them.

  Cassiopia slammed on the brakes and stared.

  “You are going to have to drive past or through him, Cassiopia. Don’t screw around with him. If he gets a hold of the car, he won’t let go.”

  “But.…”

  “No butts!” Rogers stepped on Cassiopia’s foot, pushing the gas pedal to the floor. Wide-eyed Cassiopia yelled something incomprehensible, and as they closed in on the man, she jerked the SUV to the left, scraping the sidewall, brushing past the staggering zombie. He bounced off, hit the sidewall and flipped out, over the wall.

  “Oh no! Why did you do that?”

  Rogers did not have to answer. As they leveled off to ground level and turned to the exit, Cassiopia stopped once more.

  There were at least a hundred of them, a colorful and morbid procession of the living dead. Tall and short, fat and thin, they swaggered their way along until spying the black SUV that had come to a stop one hundred yards away. There was no decision-making process. They immediately redirected themselves in mass toward the two non-dead.

  “I’d better drive.”

  “I think so.”

  “Do not get out, do not unlock your doors, do not roll down a window to apologize. Got it?”

  “I’m getting it.”

  With an undignified scramble, the two women worked their way into each other’s seats. Rogers did not wait. She floored the gas pedal and charged toward the oncoming crowd.

  “Maybe they’ll get out of the….”

  Before Cassiopia finished speaking, the first impacts began. It was a short distance past a tollbooth, out onto a crowded street filled with undead confusion. Rogers skillfully plowed her way through the ragged, colorful wall of diseased humans, working the gas and steering for optimum passage, a look of determination etched into her face. As they turned onto Connecticut Ave, one pursuer with a particularly mangled face managed to haul himself up against the windshield, sticking like a dead bug with his cheek flattened against the glass directly in front of Cassiopia. She stared wide-eyed, her mouth agape, until Rogers swiped the car against the trunk of a roadside tree, and wiped him away.

  As they cleared the persistent crowd, Rogers hung a hard left and accelerated still faster. When the street became blocked by two abandoned cars, she slowed and used her bumper to push one out of the way. With a safe distance behind them, she pulled into an empty parking space in front of a bed and breakfast and put the car in park.

  Looking in all directions, she asked, “The door will reappear back there where we started, right?”

  “Yes, unless my father has had to shut it down again. In that case, when he turns it back on, it could appear anywhere.”

  “Try your control.”

  Cassiopia dug her control out of her pocket and called for the door. “No. No heading or distance indication. Try yours.”

  Rogers pulled out her control and pressed it repeatedly. “The same.”

  “The door must be off. There must be a problem again.”

  Rogers looked behind nervously. “Well if we’re going to be trapped here for a while there’s only one thing to do.”

  “What?”

  “We need weapons.”

  “All-Mart has some guns.”

  “Nope. We need fancy guns. At least I know this place pretty well. There is one gun dealer on Connecticut Ave. Hold on, here we go.”

  Rogers backed out and gunned the SUV. At several points along the way, she had to cross the median to avoid wrecked cars. As they neared their destination, she found a driveway-alley intended for deliveries and pulled into it. Behind an office building, she turned the SUV around for a quick exit.

  “We can’t risk parking outside the store. It would attract attention. It’s the next building over. Let’s try not to be seen.”

  “Maybe I should wait for you.”

  “No. You shouldn’t stay here alone and wait for me. Let’s go. Close the door quietly.”

  They climbed from the car and took long looks around. Rogers went on ahead and motioned Cassiopia to follow. They crept along beside a tan, brick building, and paused before emerging onto the sidewalk. A six-lane roadway separated the two sides of the street. Trees decorated the sidewalk in both directions. There were cars everywhere, on the sidewalk, in the middle of the street, and parked all along the curb. Some had broken windows and body damage. The air smelled as if something had been overcooked and burned. There was trash blowing in the wind everywhere, but not a soul to be seen.

  Rogers spoke in a whisper. “It’s the next building on our left. It looks clear. Stay close.”

  They moved forward in a crouched position, turning to keep watch, staying close to the storefronts. At the entrance to a place called ‘The Right Way,' the locked front door did not have one bit of glass left in it. They stepped through the empty door and stood to check the area.

  There was no one. Rogers breathed a sigh of relief and began walking along the broken glass counter in search of her best weapon.

  “What can you use, Cassiopia?”

  “What? Me?”

  “Come on; this is no time to kid around. What kind of gun do you know how to use?”

  “Me? I don’t know about guns. I don’t like guns.”

  Rogers stopped and sounded patronizing. “You’ve never fired a gun?”

  “No.”

  “Well, could you?”

  “I’m not going to shoot anyone.”

  “Not even if they’re going to hurt you?”

  “I’ll run away.”

  “What if you can’t?”

  “I’ll push them away.”

  Rogers slumped her shoulders. “It’s okay. I’ll see if I can find enough firepower for both of us.”

  From within the broken glass of the display case, she pulled out a chrome Smith and Wesson handgun. She tucked it in behind her and continued searching the wall displays. At the back of the store, she found what she had been looking for.

  “Oh, I don’t believe it! Intratecs! Tec-9s! Oh, thank the Lord.” She pulled down two small black machine guns with perforated guards around the barrels. She popped out the long clips and stared down into them. “Cassiopia, come over here. You can at least help me load.”

  After pulling out drawer after drawer, Rogers assembled a tall stack of shells on the only remaining glass counter top. Next to it, she piled long rectangular boxes that contained new clips. She set up an empty clip and poured a box of shells out on the counter. Cassiopia watched intently.

  “Okay. They go in like this.” Roger inserted several shells and handed the clip over. Cassiopia reluctantly began plugging i
n bullets.

  “I’m going to go work on the Intratecs a little bit. They’re not fully automatic yet. Do you know what that means?”

  “You’re going to make them shoot faster.”

  “Yep. A whole lot faster.”

  As Cassiopia continued to load, Rogers came up behind her and began fastening little round metal containers to her belt.

  “What?”

  “They’re flash-bang grenades. They won’t hurt anyone, but they’ll help keep them back. You can do that, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  “You pull the pin and then get rid of it immediately. You need to be at least fifty feet away when it goes off and don’t look at it, and cover your ears and open your mouth wide, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Rogers packed her clips in a utility satchel and strapped it on. She slung a machine gun over each shoulder, checked the cylinder in the handgun, and went to the storefront. “I think I know just the place to hold up until we get a signal from the door. Are you ready?”

  “Yes?” replied Cassiopia, but she wasn’t ready at all.

  Chapter 17