MZS: New York: A Metropolitan Zombie Survivors Novella

by McAdams, K. D.

I notice her version of armor. She took the time to run different strips of tape vertically and horizontally. The effect makes it look like her armor depicts a shower of kittens falling onto a bed of flowers occasionally interrupted by an umbrella floating in the sky. How did she think of that, and how did she do it so quickly?

  “Maya’s a little scared and won’t come out,” Isaiah says as he returns to the room.

  “Give her a some time. It’s okay,” McLean says reassuringly.

  “Can I get you some water or another drink?” he offers. The kid’s polite, even under these insane circumstances.

  “Water would be great, for all three of us,” I reply. I’m not really that thirsty, but I know we could all use the hydration. Plus I want to help the kid feel like he’s doing a good job.

  When he disappears into the kitchen, I think about what it must be like for him. I’m twice his age and I am totally freaking out. This kid is calm, cool and collected. I think he might be the best nominee to be our leader.

  “Here you go.” Isaiah returns from the kitchen with three glasses full of water. The ice cubes floating on top are large; he added them after he filled the glass.

  Before we can say thank you, he’s back to the kitchen on a new errand.

  When he comes back, he’s carrying another glass of water and heading for the bedroom door. There might be a cookie or a piece of candy in the kitchen that could help to lure the little girl out.

  “Isaiah, are Jaden and Maya your brother and sister?” Cupcake asks before the young man disappears through the door.

  “No. They’re my mom’s friend’s kids. I hang out with them all the time though, so they know me pretty well,” Isaiah explains. He comes back to the room and takes a long sip from the water, looking at us, waiting for another question.

  Please Cupcake; don’t ask him where their parents are. If they are not here, it doesn’t matter. Don’t make a sixteen-year-old who is holding his shit together think about his mother or the kids’ mother.

  “Well, you’re doing a great job. You should be very proud of yourself,” I say, before Cupcake can speak and ruin things. I almost said “your mother would be proud of you,” but that would have been no better than asking him where she is.

  McLean

  Chapter 9

  Isaiah has been gone for only a few minutes but it feels too long. I’m also worried about Jaden and Todd. They have not reappeared from the kitchen since they went for a beer.

  “Would it be awful if I said I could use a beer?” I ask. I don’t want them to think that I’m checking on Todd.

  “I was just thinking we should check on Todd, too,” Patrick says, and smiles at me.

  “Can you seriously carry that, little man?” Todd’s voice spills into the living room.

  “I’m strong for a six-year-old. I can even pick up my whole toy box,” Jaden says.

  “Dude, you’re blowing my mind with those muscles. I don’t think I could carry something that heavy until I was, like, twenty,” Todd replies.

  The two guys come from the kitchen. Jaden is carrying a cooler bag that probably has a six-pack in it. Todd glows with pride while he holds the door open.

  “Look at this big man,” Patrick says, acting very impressed.

  I guess guy culture gets ingrained early. Jaden didn’t seem to need any cajoling; he’s totally into it. I cringe when I think about all the little boys that would rather draw or write but get railroaded into “guy world.”

  “Hey, could I lighten your load a little bit? I could really use one of whatever you’ve got in there,” Cupcake says as he stoops down to Jaden’s eye level.

  How did these three become so good with kids?

  I didn’t really want a beer, but when Cupcakes makes the cracking sound of an opening can, I suddenly need one. The thought of that zombie crashing over the railing and down to the first floor floods back into my mind. Even if it’s not healthy to need a beer, I think I deserve one.

  “I would like one too, please,” I say. I can still be ladylike and make Jaden feel important.

  Patrick does not have a beer, and I am a little surprised and a lot impressed. Along with the nice guy feedback, Patrick’s other key attribute was his ability to drink.

  The familiar tone of an incoming text message stops all conversation. All four adults reach into our pockets and pull out our phones.

  This one wasn’t for me.

  Patrick types slowly and I can see his mouth move with each word.

  “Terri and Tucker just wanted to see how we’re doing. The street is still clear except for a couple of stragglers,” he says after a few more exchanges.

  “We should plan on leaving soon, though. The street may not stay clear for long,” Cupcake says. He can’t seem to use a tone of authority; when he speaks, it sounds like a question.

  “What about sending someone down to keep an eye on the door?” Todd suggests.

  “Splitting up just feels like a mistake.” Patrick looks around the room sheepishly. “Maybe Laney can work her magic on the little girl and we can all get moving together?”

  I haven’t spoken with him about being in charge, but he reacts like he is. That’s not a bad thing, but he’ll have to be consistent about it.

  The buzzing fills my chest and then travels into my ears. I’ve heard or felt this before, but I try so hard to remember where that I draw a blank.

  There is a growl from the bedroom where Isaiah and Maya are. Oh god, I hope her mother wasn’t bitten and they were trying to take care of her.

  Another fierce growl fills the room and it’s follow by a SLAM! It sounds like furniture is being tossed around in there.

  The door that had been cracked open flies wide and adorable little Maya stands a few steps back. Her face is covered in blood and her eyes appear to be filled with milk.

  Patrick is closest to her, but his back is turned. When he sees my face he spins quickly to face the little monster.

  She starts running and he instinctively reaches his arms out to catch her. Unlike your average seven-year-old who jumps into your arms for a hug, this thing dives face-first. Its streamlined body creates a lethal spear of teeth.

  Completely caught off-guard by the attack, Patrick uses a wine-box-clad arm to deflect the mouth and deadly teeth at the last minute. Off-balance, he falls to the side opposite the undead child now lying prone on the ground.

  “Maya!” Jaden screams at the top of his lungs.

  Todd rushes across to the bedroom door, which seems an odd direction until I see why. The thing that used to be Isaiah is trying to find us.

  The former teen Isaiah is missing his nose and one of his ears. There is a massive chunk of flesh gone from his neck. Dark blood covers his clothes and his eyes have the same milky look as Maya’s.

  The buzzing is growing more intense and it doesn’t seem to be coming from just these two.

  Patrick is scrambling to find his hockey stick. It’s not far from his reach, but watching Maya is making it hard for him to locate it.

  Cupcake and I are frozen; what can I do to help?

  When Patrick finally connects with his weapon and Todd has raised his tire iron, I spring into action.

  Dashing across the room, I scoop little Jaden into my arms and spin his face away from the battle. Unfortunately, this gives me the perfect view of the carnage unfolding.

  Todd’s tire iron splurts into Isaiah’s eye and the lanky teen crumbles to the floor. As Todd turns to pull his tool out of the young man’s skull, I can see the pained look on his face and perhaps even a tear in his eye. Once he’s free, he immediately scans the room to find Jaden.

  After our eyes connect, we both turn to check on Patrick. He’s rolled little Maya over to her back and is standing over her motionless. At first I think he’s already killed her and I’m grateful to have missed that revolting event. Then I see her tiny brown fingers clawing at the silver duct tape protecting his lower leg. Patrick’s other foot is on her chest, pinning her—it—to
the floor.

  Patrick looks back at me with tears streaming down his face.

  Cupcake finally comes around and walks to the door. He opens it and steps out onto the landing. With the door open, I can now hear moaning, over and in addition to the buzzing.

  “I think we’d better get going,” Cupcake says casually, directing his voice back into the apartment.

  Todd takes a step toward Patrick and flexes his grip on the tire iron.

  “Pat-O,” is all he says.

  The hockey stick plunges down, and while I cannot hear anything, I see the child’s talons release their death-grip from his leg. Maya is at peace, though she may haunt our dreams forever.

  Todd’s next steps are toward the door and me. After he disappears from my sight, I hear him as he speaks softly to Jaden. “Hold on buddy. Let me put this over your eyes. It’ll help you be invisible to the monsters,” he says. The little boy just clings to me.

  “Todd, you’ve got point,” Patrick says. It’s a statement, not a command, but it’s better than a question.

  “Yeah. Me, Cupcake, precious cargo, and you,” Todd says. “Don’t stop to think, man, do what has to be done, and then move.”

  Todd hurries through the door and Patrick pushes me to follow.

  When I step on the landing, Cupcake is halfway down the next flight of stairs. A zombie goes flying past in a blur. Its body folds over the railing, falling onto the stairs a few steps below Cupcake. Immediately, the head turns toward Cupcake and arms stretch out, seeking flesh.

  I walk slowly so that Cupcake can deal with the obstruction. He stabs at the creature’s head, but not with enough force to penetrate the skull. A chunk of hair and flesh peels off and falls away. Changing his grip, Cupcake drives the knife upwards toward the face of the zombie.

  My pace increases as the undead falls backward off the railing.

  We make it down two more flights before the onslaught really starts. Another two bodies sail past on the express route to the ground floor. A third slams into the railing behind me and I can hear Patrick grunt as he deals with it.

  With each step it seems like another undead projectile is launched at us.

  “How many fucking people lived on the top floor!” Cupcake yells as he slams his knife into one clinging to the railing.

  It’s a rhetorical question, but seriously.

  “Let’s go!” Todd yells from below us. He sounds strained.

  I hear the door open and can see the light from outside streaming through. After a few more turns of stairs, I have only one flight left to the ground.

  Or should I call it the bottom? There is no ground to see. Todd is standing on a bloody pile of meat. He slams his tire iron down into the pile and splashes of blood fly up into the air. Another body slams into the pile from above and Todd shifts his blows to the new addition.

  When my foot hits the pile of gore it slides forward, out of control. I hadn’t noticed Jaden’s mass before this, but now it dramatically affects my balance. I’m headed backwards, sliding wildly, and preparing for the impact on my ass.

  A strong hand lands square in my back. It steadies me for a beat and then nearly throws me out the door.

  “Go,” Todd insists.

  In the street, Cupcake is engaged with a zombie off to our right.

  Looking left toward the entrance to my building, I can see the horde still mulling about. If we can get across the street quietly, we may be able to keep it clear.

  My legs are on fire.

  I’m in the lead and running as fast as I can. With each step, I can feel Jaden squeeze harder. He’s not making a sound, but I can imagine that he’s screaming on the inside.

  Rounding the Humvee that’s illegally parked up on the sidewalk brings me steps from safety. “Run through the finish,” I tell myself. One season of track and field taught me the little I know of running, but now is a good time to remember.

  The view to my left is blocked by Jaden’s head, with most of his weight being supported by my left hand. It leaves my right available to pull the door open.

  With a few steps left, I start to slow down. At the pace of a fast walk, I bump into something out of view and bounce off to my right. I’m cross-footed and I slam into the door heavily with my right shoulder.

  The turn allows me to see the massive zombie coming toward me. If I step to get through the door, I’ll be going right into his grasp.

  Patrick and his hockey stick come flying into the picture. The sharp end of the stick hits the zombie in the throat, causing blood to leak out down the front of its shirt. Patrick pulls back and thrusts forward, three, then four times, before finding the eye socket.

  The former mountain of a man falls backward and slams onto the sidewalk.

  Patrick pushes me to the correct side of the door and pulls it open. I walk through and from out of nowhere Todd and Cupcake pile in behind me.

  When Patrick steps into the vestibule and closes the door, the silence overwhelms me. We’re safe.

  And then the buzzing starts again.

  This time it’s the security door. It’s just Terri, buzzing us up.

  Patrick

  Chapter 10

  Holy fuck, that was terrifying. Zombies are frightening enough, but when they fly down at you from above it’s over the top.

  If I was telling myself I wasn’t counting kills before, now it’s definitely true. There is no way I can figure out how many of those things I just killed. Only one of them mattered anyway.

  Thinking of that poor little girl makes me want to vomit. Why don’t I?

  Todd made sure our stairway and hall were clear before we headed up. No sense in all of us expending the energy to go up only to have to race back down.

  We’re only across the street, but it feels like we’re in a different world. There is no buzzing and no moaning. I’ll go so far as to say it feels safe.

  The bloodstains in the hall between McLean and Terri’s apartment remind me that it is not safe. Nothing is.

  We have to wait outside Terri’s door while it is unlocked from the inside. This kind of shit needs to be coordinated better. I’m sure they’re scared, but we are physically and mentally spent. Standing here exposed only adds to the strain.

  “Hey,” Tucker greets us, smiling.

  I want to punch him in the face.

  Todd rakes a hand down his face and draws in a long breath through pursed lips. His eyes squeeze tight as he exhales. “Little dude, you get all-star honors.” He’s talking to Jaden as he slowly removes the bandana he had tied over the boys’ eyes. “Man, there was one time I thought you were going to slip right out of her hands, but you held so tight! You definitely are stronger than any six-year-old I’ve ever heard of.”

  This man is so different than the one I have been watching. It gives me hope but also sustains my fear. How can anyone flip a switch this dramatically? Someday the switch will break, and I’m afraid of which side it will be stuck on.

  Cupcake disappears to the kitchen and returns with four beers. Without asking, he hands one to each of us who had been outside. There are no thank you’s or acknowledgements; we simply crack open our cans and pour the amber liquid into out mouths.

  I can’t speak for the others, but I don’t taste a thing. Stress, adrenaline and fear have overloaded my senses. Collapsing or shaking would be reasonable, but I don’t, I just stand and drink my beer.

  “I’ll get my own. Don’t worry about me,” Tucker jokes as he walks toward the kitchen.

  One of us may kill him if he doesn’t shut the fuck up. He doesn’t know what we just went through.

  But he does. He cleared that area in front of the creperie back in Boston. Based on the number of kills he reported, it had to have been something like one every five minutes, for a couple of hours.

  As the beer takes effect and my heart rate slows, I notice the sound of Terri’s fingers flying across the keyboard. She’s not looking at us or engaging with us, and it seems like a conscious effort. When
I pay attention to the others in the room, I can imagine why.

  We are disgusting. Mostly we’re covered in blood, but there is hair and dirt and pieces of flesh stuck randomly over our bodies. My senses are returning and I notice the smell wafting off our bodies.

  Terri would have every right to ask us to change or shower, but she doesn’t. She employs a tact that Tucker could learn from.

  “I’m going to go shower,” McLean says. She squeezes the empty can in her hand and numbly walks toward the door, back toward her room.

  A small bark stops her dead in her tracks.

  “Bark, bark.” The dog’s call floats faintly through the apartment again.

  “Fucking neighbor,” Terri mutters.

  Is it loud enough to attract the undead? If it’s loud enough for us to hear, it may be. McLean better not go into the hall alone.

  “I’ll take a shower with you,” I say without thinking.

  All eyes look at me. That’s not what I meant.

  “I don’t think so,” McLean says flatly.

  Cupcake intercedes on my behalf. “I think what he means is that you shouldn’t go alone. We could all use a shower.”

  “Someone can use my shower,” Terri announces, now that we are all past the awkward stage.

  “I’m first down here,” Todd declares and doesn’t hesitate to listen for an objection. He heads to the bathroom and disappears.

  “Cupcake, why don’t you come to my place? You can shower when I’m done,“ McLean says, taking care of dividing the group.

  Always the gentleman, Cupcake brushes past McLean and grasps the door handle. He pokes his head into the hallway and then steps out. McLean follows close behind and the door closes silently.

  We’ve split up, and again it feels like a mistake.

  “Are you interested in what I’ve learned?” Terri asks me from her comfy-looking workstation.

  I forgot that we have problems in our future. My brain is so focused on the right now I can’t even think ten minutes into the future and relaxing in the shower.