I grabbed the side of the door and pulled, making absolutely no progress at all. Tommy and Duncan took aim at a couple of faster zombies that were going to be on us in about fifteen seconds if I didn’t get this damn door open. The good news was there was a pathway that funneled the zombies into smaller groups. The bad news was the pathway still allowed for zombies to march four across, which was way too many for comfort.
“Anytime, John,” Tommy said as he took aim at the nearest Z.
“One thing to try and then we’re just busting in,” I said, pulling off my pickaxe and jamming the broad end into the space between the frame and the door. I worked it like a crowbar and managed to pop the lock, just enough to open the stupid door.
“Got it! In!” I shouted to Tommy who was trying to hold his fire to the last, but in a couple of steps the first zombie was going to be within reach. Tommy spun and followed Duncan, who was already sprinting through the door. I held it open for them then slipped inside, pulling it shut as several Z’s slammed against the glass. I wasn’t worried about the glass breaking, since I noticed when I opened it that it was at least a half-inch thick. It wouldn’t stop a rifle bullet, but it could hold off the zombies with relative ease.
We moved past the screening station and carefully checked the area for more zombies and more importantly, Thorton and his men. We found neither and held a powwow in the Archives Shop, under busts of Jefferson and resin molds of the sights of D.C..
“Okay, guys, we need to make a guess and hope to hell it’s the right one. When the shit hit the fan, did the documents stay on display, or were they sent down for storage in the lower vaults?” I asked.
Duncan put down the Madison bust he was picking the nose of before replying. “Tough call. If things happened here fast enough, did anyone have the presence of mind to properly store them? Or were they more concerned about the collapse of society and the rising wave of Z’s?”
“I guess we’re going to have to find out either way and deal with whatever tries to stop us,” Tommy said, checking his rifle’s magazine.
“All right. Here’s how we work it. I’m going to head to the workrooms downstairs and see if I can find the documents. If I can, I’ll bring them back here. You two check the rotunda and if the documents are there, radio me and I’ll hightail it topside. We’ll use this as our rendezvous point, otherwise,” I said.
“What are we doing?” Duncan asked, checking his own magazine and indicating himself and Tommy. He obviously hadn’t been listening.
“Making sure we don’t have any more surprises,” I said. “These men declared war on us. They attacked our home and have tried to kill us once already. Finish them.”
“What about Thorton?” Tommy asked.
“Dead is dead,” I said, although I have to admit I was hoping to be the one to put a bullet in that son of a bitch. “Let’s be back here in less than an hour, one way or the other. We’re going to need daylight to get ourselves back to the Smithsonian.”
“We still taking those people out?” asked Duncan.
“I said I would, so yes.” I hadn’t considered not taking them, but we’d have to burn that bridge when we got to it. “Thorton is probably going to get in on the north side, where the employees usually get in. They will likely make straight for the rotunda, so stay sharp.”
“Mind yourself,” Tommy said. “We’ve been here before.”
I shook my head at him. “I’m not losing any more friends. You two take care of yourselves.” I shook hands with both, hoping desperately I would see them again.
We split up at the stairwell, with me going down and the two of them heading up. With luck, they would hit the rotunda before Thorton. If the documents weren’t there, I imagined they would probably set up an ambush. That’s what I’d do.
I went down the stairs, passing signs that indicated Charters Café and the William McGowan Theater. I went past the ropes that still said ‘Employees Only’, tunneling deeper into the Archives. I had never been down here before, so I was running blind. Hopefully, I would find something.
I reasoned that the best place to start was the bottom and work my way up, figuring that was the most logical way not to miss anything. Contrary to the level of importance of the country’s founding documents, the National Archives Building was relatively small, by D.C. standards, anyway.
I passed through a security door that was unlocked and found myself in a storeroom filled with documents and boxes. The whole place smelled like dust and I knew this was storage for lesser documents. Still, some important things were there if you wanted to look. I remember someone finding a document with Lincoln’s signature on it just hanging out with the rest of the notes, once upon a time. Maybe in the future we’d have the time to go through this stuff, but unless some dope lit a match, it was safe enough where it is.
The whole floor seemed devoted to storage, so I climbed up the other stairwell to the next flight up. A quick look and I saw that this floor was devoted to storage as well. I headed up the stairs again, only to duck down as a bullet zipped by my cheek.
“Get him?” yelled a voice.
“Not sure. Couldn’t see too well. Maybe.”
I cursed and waited for a sound to be made. I had doused my light after the shot, but then I realized I could use it as a lure. I turned it back on, hiding the light with my hand, then dropped it out in the open where it could be seen, groaning slightly, then exhaling deeply. I was hoping they would think I was down and had dropped the light.
I didn’t hear anything for a bit and I waited for what seemed to be a long time. But I soon began to hear slow footsteps, like someone was trying to move quietly in the dark, using the light from my fallen flashlight to show them the way. They couldn’t see a body, which was making them cautious. I eased my rifle back quietly and pulled my SIG. This was going to be close in work and my M1A was too big.
I waited on the stairs with my gun pointing upwards. They wouldn’t able to see me until they were on top of me, but I would be able to take a shot as soon as they cleared the landing. I just hoped they came together and not one at a time.
After an eternity and much sweating on my part, a head finally peeked around the corner. Resisting the urge to shoot, I waited until I could see another head materialize next to it. It was still very dark and the ambient light from my flashlight wasn’t very helpful, but it kept me in the dark and allowed me to see, albeit poorly.
Right before they reached the landing with my flashlight, I fired upward at them. Years of fighting zombies leaves an impression on your skills and I fired instinctively at their heads. The first one died on the stairs, the top of his head erupting in blood and brains as the forty caliber bullet added a skylight to his skull. I shifted to the other man who ducked and before he could get his bearings, I fired again. This time, the bullet entered his face and blew out the back of his head, dropping him down on top of his friend.
I grabbed up my flashlight and didn’t look back, sprinting up the stairs to the next level. Just as I reached the door, my radio crackled.
“John. Duncan. They’re not in the rotunda. Over.”
I grabbed my radio and spoke quickly. “Roger that. Downed two of our friends. Watch yourself. Over.”
“Will do. Tommy got three, I got two. Over.”
“Then there’s three left. Good hunting. Out.” I turned the radio down and made my way through the security door. This area was a hallway with several offices located on it, so I figured I was moving in the right direction.
About midway down the hall, I saw a side hallway that led to another doorway. This doorway had some fairly sophisticated mechanisms for security, but with all power turned off long ago, I reached for the door and walked right in. It was funny, because a simple padlock would have kept me out for a while, but all this electronic hardware was useless.
Inside was a large room with several tables off to the side. On pegs along one wall were several environmental suits, presumably for handling the historic do
cuments. There were a lot of tubes and air hoses and such and a large glass walled room over to the side. On the back wall of the glass room were four large cases and in each case was what appeared to be a sheet of parchment.
I moved over quickly and was inside the room without a hassle. I walked over to the documents and looked them over. Each one was in a large case, protected by a thick pane of greenish glass. They looked heavy and I was not looking forward to carrying them across a field of zombies, if it came to that.
I went to the Declaration of Independence and removed the case from the rack which took it up to the display room. It weighed about thirty pounds, so it was manageable, but it was awkward as hell.
I took the document and made my way back to the stairs, heading up to the rendezvous point. I didn’t encounter any more of Thorton’s men, although I thought I heard firing when I was in the Archives Shop. I put down the Declaration of Independence and went back for the Bill of Rights. After retrieving the Bill of Rights I went back for part one of the Constitution.
It was when I was returning for part two of the Constitution when I ran into Thorton. He and another man were in the glass chamber, inspecting the spots where the other documents were, looking up to see if they had gotten stuck in the tunnels to the rotunda. The second part of the Constitution was sitting on the table. They had their backs to me and I was in the process of bringing up my rifle when Thorton turned around and saw me.
His eyes went wide as they connected with mine and I was nearly firing my rifle when he started firing from the hip. The big forty-four slugs punched through the glass like it was paper, scattering shards all over the floor.
I returned fired with my rifle, the heavy caliber bullets ramming through the air. I got lucky with my shots, one of the slugs connected with the man with Thorton and he went down screaming, holding his bloody hands against a hole in his abdomen.
I ducked around the corner and when I peeked out I saw that Thorton had taken cover behind the heavy table. The man I had shot writhed in agony for a few seconds, then went still as he died.
It was a long moment, then Thorton spoke.
“John Talon, I presume?” The voice was deep, but I could easily detect the contempt hidden behind the baritone. It was instantly mocking and condescending
In my former life, I called people who sounded like this bullies. I hated bullies.
I stayed quiet, figuring it would annoy Thorton not to be acknowledged. I waited, sure he would speak again. I didn’t have long to wait.
“Figured it was you. You’re a long way from home. Too bad, they probably could have used you at Starved Rock.” The tone was reproachful and touched a sore point. I answered in a way I was sure he could understand.
I shifted away from the corner and fired the remainder of my magazine at the table Thorton was hiding behind. The .308 bullets shredded the metal and skipped sparks off the equipment. I didn’t even aim.
I saw the bolt lock back, so I ducked around the corner, and reloaded the rifle. The smell of primer and cordite was heavy in the air and my firing had created a small gunpowder fog.
I waited to hear if I had connected and much to my dismay, Thorton spoke again and he didn’t seem to be hurt.
“Well, well. That was quite the tantrum. You know, you have to be careful. You might have shot the Constitution.”
I heard a shifting sound and figured he was trying to get out of the corner he was in. There was only one exit and I was in the way. I could wait him out, but if there was another man here somewhere, he would be able to come up behind me while I was entertaining Thorton. This had to end and quickly.
“Tell you what, Thorton. Step out, drop your weapons and surrender,” I said, getting down on one knee and aiming my M1A at the corner.
“You’ll let me go? How noble.”
I replied honestly. “Actually, no. I was just wanting to shoot you without the risk of getting shot in return.”
Thorton was quiet as he digested this little tidbit. I needed him off balance and out of his comfort zone and having an opponent readily admit they were willing to lie to kill you would throw off anyone.
In reply his gun roared, the bullet’ ripping through the walls above my head. Had I been standing, I would have been killed instantly. The second he stopped, I rolled out and fired back, causing him to dive for cover behind the vacuuming equipment.
“Son of a bitch!” Thorton cursed at me. “You’re a pain in the ass to kill, you know that?”
“Likewise, shithead,” I said. “Why don’t you save me some ammo and just shoot yourself? You’re not going to live with me blocking the exit.”
Thorton said nothing and I moved cautiously around the corner, my rifle leading the way. Just as I cleared the corner, Thorton fired from a new position, striking the forearm of my rifle and knocking it clean out of my hands. I dropped quickly and drew my SIG as I swung back around my cover. I looked down at my rifle and saw the bullet had ruined the forearm, but seemed to have missed the barrel and the gas tube. It should still work, but there was no way I could get it now. It looked worse than it was, which was probably why Thorton hadn’t shot it again to render it useless.
“So much for your advantage,” Thorton taunted. “Why don’t you come and get me? Is it too dark? Maybe I’ll have a fire. Let’s see, where can I get some paper? I know, I saw a big piece right here.”
I fell out of my position onto my right shoulder with my SIG already pointed. I saw Thorton standing by the Constitution with his gun up waiting for me to come out. It took a half second for him to realize I was out but on the ground. I fired once and Thorton threw his left arm back, his handgun flying off to the corner. I jumped up, covering him as he knelt down, holding onto his arm. My bullet had struck him in the left forearm, travelled down the bone and exited near his elbow. It was a nasty wound and his left arm wasn’t going to be very useful for a while. He held his arms close, his eyes burning with hatred at being bested.
“I think that should just about wrap things up,” I said, aiming my SIG at his face. I was in the process of pulling the trigger when suddenly Thorton struck out with his right hand, holding a huge curved knife which struck the side of my SIG and sent it spinning out of my hands.
Thorton lunged after me with his knife, trying to disembowel me, but I jumped back, pulling my own knife in the process. Somehow, I knew it was going to come down to this. Nothing is ever easy.
“Cute little toothpick.” Thorton taunted, waving his blade in front of himself.
I shifted my grip. “Come closer and I’ll pick out your fucking eye with it,” I snarled. I had seen how agile this man was, so I was not going to take things lightly. If he was even remotely decent with that knife, I could get seriously hurt.
Thorton lunged suddenly, a low stab that turned into a high slash. I had turned to the side to avoid the thrust, but the slash nicked my pack strap and drew a thin red line on my cheek, under my eye.
The major danced back, grinning at his first attempt. “Sure you want to play, Talon? Remember, mine’s bigger than yours.” He slashed again, cutting the air between us.
This time I was ready and as his arm swung out, I struck, flicking my wrist and cutting a two inch gash on the back of his hand as it passed by.
“Try that again with your neck, if you please,” I said, waggling my black blade at him. I needed him angry and unfocused. He was too strong to try and face squarely.
Thorton bared his teeth and I readied for the rush, figuring he would try to barrel into me and use his size to an advantage. He didn’t disappoint and I ducked under his cut, which probably would have sliced me in half had it connected. I reached out with my knife and stabbed him about an inch worth in the calf, pulling the blade out as I avoided a reverse stabbing move that missed me by a fraction. He was fast, but not as fast as Charlie, who would have pounded me with that move.
I kicked back and managed to connect with his thigh, barreling him into the table with a large crash. I had to kee
p up the pressure, otherwise this was not going to go well. I followed him to the table, my blade held a little back behind me, to maximize thrusting ability.
Thorton roared and spun quickly around, his knife raised to stab. My knife was suddenly too far away to do any good, so I struck out with my left fist, mashing his nose and stopping his forward rush as pain exploded in his face. His hands reflexively came up and his knife connected with mine, blocking the thrust which would have ended the fight right there. The major backed up and struck out blindly, missing my head by a fraction. I rammed my knife forward and stabbed him deeply in the leg. I stepped back and let him fall.
As he went down, Thorton slashed downward, slicing my arm open. I recoiled and whipped out my bandanna, wrapping up my wound to be treated later.
“Fucker. I’ll kill you for that!” Major slashed my way again, but I danced out of reach. I must have cut something useful in that stab; when Thorton tried to stand, using the table as a crutch, he crashed back to the ground. I had to give him credit, he kept his knife between us and I wasn’t going to try to finish him off. Not now, anyway.
I left him bleeding and retrieved my SIG. There was a deep scratch on the slide, but nothing that affected function. I was relieved, since that SIG had been with me at the beginning and I was so used to it I wouldn’t know what to do with another gun.
Thorton eyed me as I rearmed myself. I’m sure he figured I was just going to shoot him, but I had another idea, one that was worthy of his level of depravity. I skirted wide around him and removed the second part of the Constitution from it’s cradle and carried it over to the doorway.
Major Thorton scoffed as I turned back. “Couldn’t finish me hand to hand, huh? Gonna do it the easy way, right? Go ahead, gutless. At least I died a man.” He tried to look tough, but like any beaten bully, he was just noise.
United States of the Dead - 04 Page 22