by Bryan James
But lions? Lions were new.
“Everyone stay tight,” I said, “It’s moving around up here somewhere, but it’s moving away. We might be scaring it.”
“Ky!” Kate yelled, watching as Ky shot away from the group and to the body at the pool. She winced at the gore and the smell, but grabbed the heavy boots of the large man and started dragging the body.
“What do, girl?” Artan rasped.
“If we give them an appetizer, maybe they’ll slow down,” she said, the sound of bodies slamming into one another behind us was heavy in the small space. They were only thirty feet away, and Rhodes was trying to place shots carefully into the fastest ones.
Kate flew to Ky’s side and grabbed the feet, throwing the body handily into the small space. It landed with a loud noise, and the first of the creatures fell on it instantly.
“Move!” I said, and started forward.
As my eyes adjusted to the increasing light, Artan spoke again.
“Up left,” he said. Only twenty meters to the door.
I nodded, eyes still scanning.
My hand raised my blade quickly as I saw a flash of brown and gray near the now-visible ladder up to what must be a hatch above.
“Ears!” I shouted, and pulled the trigger on my pistol in quick succession. The sharp crack of the gun was loud in the small space, and I heard a massive up swell in the hungry moans from behind us, activated by the noise. Many continued to feast, but many more stumbled past, falling and slipping in blood and water as they moved toward us steadily.
I watched another flash of brown as the animal moved away from the ladder, further into the tunnel ahead. I ran to the bottom of the ladder, gun pointed into the murky tunnel, eyes scanning for movement.
“Go!” I yelled, and heard the rush of feet as the group pounded up the ladder. I heard the frightened yip of Romeo as Kate virtually tossed him up to Rhodes and her feet stopped near my head.
“Come on,” she said, eyes glued to the tunnel.
But it was too late.
I was lost in the eyes of the hungry predator.
I couldn’t move now. He was watching. If I turned, he’d take me in the back.
I was strong, and I healed quickly. But I didn’t want to test my body’s resistance to a six hundred pound man-eater with a bad attitude.
His eyes were two glowing yellow orbs, teeth visible under the snarl of hunger and thinly veiled malice.
In the passage behind, the creatures were approaching, the tide slowed by the body and the meal, but not stopped. Never stopped.
“Go. I have an idea,” I said softly, backing into the ladder and lowering the gun.
“Like hell,” she said, starting back down, but I grabbed her foot without even looking.
“No,” I said, “Go. It’ll be fine.”
With that, I holstered the pistol and put the machete into the sheath and stepped out into the tunnel, toward the zombies, turning my back to the massive lion crouched in the dark tunnel.
“What the —” her voice was drowned out by the massive roar from the lion and a unified moan of triumph as the creatures reached out for me.
Hands brushed my legs as I pushed off from the ground with as much force as I could, my gauntleted hands reaching for the iron bars crisscrossing the ceiling above me, girders and supports exposed by time and construction.
The massive lion, a huge male with a thick, dark mane, flashed past me below, unable to adjust its course before barreling into the crowd of zombies, their mouths and hands thrusting and searching.
But this prey was no easy meal, and the ruse had the desired effect. I dropped to the ground seconds later, narrowly avoiding the thrashing bodies, and rushed up the ladder several rungs at a time. Below, a confused lion met with a group of very disappointed undead; the former and the latter both robbed of what they both desired—fresh blood. The lion had no taste for undead flesh, and it knew that these things—these objects that appeared human but were so far from it—were not to be consumed. The undead recognized this creature as a living being, but they had no taste for this sort.
But the lion wasn’t happy.
Claws and teeth shredded the disinterested group of rotting humans.
Sharp feline claws and razor teeth flashed in the dank space in a shocking display of ferocity, as bodies were pushed to either side, torn from the middle, and rent to pieces as the large cat, feeling angry and trapped, whirled in a razor-sharp melee of destruction.
Those creatures that hadn’t been stopped by the body in the hallway, were now compelled to slow as one very angry kitty beat the shit out of their friends.
It was purely awesome to watch—nature at its best.
And I didn’t mind having someone else do my work for me.
“What the hell?” Kate whispered harshly as she flipped onto the street above, the ladder emerging into a small recess along a sidewalk. Rhodes knelt on one knee, scanning the distance for movement, and Artan paced silently, a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. Ky and Romeo were behind Rhodes, and Ky breathed out loudly when we emerged. I looked around for a hatch or a doorway or something to close the hole behind us. That cat was going to be really hungry after this.
“What? Win-win, right? They both wanted us for dinner, now nobody’s happy. Except for us.”
I spotted the thick metal plate that fit the hatch, and pulled it over, listening as the moans and the cat’s cries continued below, then slamming it shut over the entrance. A small plaque next to the ladder announced the entrance as part of the underground tours, and I kissed my hand and pressed it to the cold metal. Just one more reason to love the touristy shtick.
“You have a messed up definition of win-win,” she said, “But definitely some style.” I smiled as she grinned at me suddenly and turned away.
Across the street, a large sign read “Westlake Center” and Artan gestured us forward. The street was clear here, and I looked up to the large concrete overpass that stretched from above our heads, three floors up, over the street and toward where I knew the Space Needle extended into the night sky.
The monorail station was on the third floor of the building, and was accessible through the main promenade of another mall. Several large stores were scattered throughout the Center, and we passed their embossed signs, some cardboard displays inside the sealed doors still advertising sales with large red lettering.
“What’s the play, Artan?” Rhodes asked as we reached the double doors leading into the mall. A large chain was looped around the handles inside the entrance leading to the main escalators. The open, seemingly empty lobby was barely visible, even to my enhanced eyesight.
“Station on third level. We in go, then up escalator there. To right, then up some stair. Then, boom, like eagle we will fly on rail line. Easy peezy.”
Easy peezy?
This guy was like a cross between Balki Bartokomous and the Beav.
“Doors?” I asked.
“We make big sound. So need be ready,” he shrugged and took the last draw from his cigarette, crushing it under a boot. His dark eyes were truly unconcerned, as if he made a trip like this every day.
Perhaps he did.
“Okay, Rhodes, you got it?”
“Yep,” he said, taking a small, bubble gum sized wad of plastic explosive from a small pouch and sticking a thin rod into the gummy substance. He placed it on the handle and we stepped back.
“Go boom now,” he said, almost disinterestedly mimicking Artan.
With a loud pop, and a small flash, the reinforced glass near the handle shattered, and he pulled the metal and chain away, forcing the door open to the inside. Artan went in first, scanning the interior quickly with his goggles down, slowly panning from one side to the next.
“Okay,” he said, turning toward us as Rhodes stepped through the doorway to follow, “Is all—”
A hand pulled his head back in the middle of the sentence, and I jumped forward, pushing aside the shattered glass that sti
ll hung from the frame. He turned his head to the side, struggling against the grip. Another hand shot out and grabbed him by the thick hair. His hand moved quickly with his pistol, firing blindly, as the body pulled itself up from the large collection of potted plants near the door.
Rhodes swung his weapon around, and I dove for the body, my hand reaching the large arms of the decaying security guard too late, as the head shot forward and the teeth tore into Artan’s neck. Blood sprayed out as if from a hose, as I pulled the creature down, flesh still jammed between its teeth, jaws working slowly and concentrating on the meal.
Artan screamed loudly, his pain echoing in the cavernous chamber, bouncing from the tile floor to the glass walls, and out amongst the shuttered stores.
I fell to the ground, arms wrapped around the wretched ghoul, who chewed hungrily even as it lashed its head out to try to bite me. Slamming my head forward in a vicious head butt, I didn’t bother with the machete, activating the long blades in the sleeves and pushing one into each eye quickly. I needed the chewing to stop.
The body convulsed once and lay still.
Ky and Kate were through the doors, and Rhodes was applying a compress to the neck wound, but it failed to stop the flow of thick, red blood. The man was cursing, his hand repeatedly slamming against the floor in pain and anger. Outside, the first zed was poking a curious head around the corner of the adjoining building, letting out a vaguely serpentine hiss as it stared into the broken door.
“We have to move,” said Rhodes, his hands working quickly to secure the compress.
“Artan, you need to stand up,” I said, but he simply waved me off. His hand flew to the floor next to him, searching for his pistol.
“I go no place,” he said, finding the grip and pulling it in. “I make sons of bitches cry for mothers before I die.”
Rhodes looked up at me and I nodded.
He was already dead. We all knew that.
Ky started to cry softly in anger as she raised her crossbow, taking the creature that was crossing in front of the shattered doors through the head with a thick bolt. It passed cleanly through the temple, and the zed fell silently to the ground, as it someone had cut the cord connecting it to the sky.
I stood, collecting her and ushering Romeo toward the escalator.
Artan stood shakily, an extra clip in his hand. Rhodes slid a large umbrella stand from the doorway over, putting it under Artan’s free hand for support, then taking three more zeds as they pushed toward the door before joining us on the escalator.
“I take care,” he rasped, voice weak. Blood was pooling at his neck and his face was pale. “They will pass not me.”
I nodded once.
“Thank you, my friend.”
“Go, man,” he said, turning to the door.
We ran up the slatted metal steps, hitting the second floor before he started to fire. Bodies were jammed into the doorway, and his voice carried into the large space.
“Come for Artan, mother fuckers,” he shouted, anger animating his weakened body.
“I show you where to eat me, you shits of mothers of goat asses!” The gun popped steadily, and I turned once, etching the picture of a man standing alone, supported by a rack of umbrellas, cursing in broken English as he died.
“You come for me, shitheads, I show you what to eat. You eat my bullet. And you too, and you! You like? Eat, bitch!”
I turned away as the press of bodies got thicker, and I knew what was coming. Ahead, Rhodes’ gun whispered twice as two bodies rose from a reclined position near a metal bench.
One last shot echoed below, and the hall was silent, but for the footfalls of the undead. Always behind. Always coming.
THIRTY-FOUR
The shops we passed were closed, doors shut and locked as if they knew or had had enough warning that the sky was falling. The security guard near the doorway was decent evidence of that. Only a few corpses were inside, and they were all identified with the mall or the monorail in some function. Maybe trapped inside after a quick decision to lock the doors. Maybe they came here because they thought it’d be safe.
Funny decision, that.
Coming to a mall during a zombie apocalypse because they thought it’d be safe. Personally, I’d take something a little more secure.
Like a prison.
That seemed right, somehow.
Kate took the lead when we found the last staircase, which was located opposite the escalators and which lead into an open, glass-ceilinged promenade parallel to the road we had left below. An empty ticket booth stood alone between the stairway and the empty platform and I sighed as we emerged into a breezy, lonely station. On one end, a compression bunker, designed to keep runaway trains from going off the track, was huddled against the back wall. On the other end, the tracks extended out into the night, emerging from the glass-enclosed space, a single metal rail glimmering under the light of a bright moon.
We wasted no time, and jumped across the small space between the center rail and the platform. The rail was roughly three feet wide, and narrow enough for me to want to put a rope on Ky, but Kate was there, hovering near her, close enough to count her breaths.
The zombies were moving up the stairs, but they struggled on the second floor, unable to follow us to the next flight as they didn’t know where the last staircase was. Artan had bought us the time we needed to lose them.
Rhodes took point as we started forward, away from the platform and onto the narrow concrete highway to the large tower that we could see in the light of the new moon.
“What’s the point of this thing?” Ky asked softly as we moved slowly along the fairly narrow expanse. Three floors above the streets below, we still watched for movement and avoided being seen, particularly by any herds that could home in on our location and follow us to the terminal. There were only two ways down from this highway, and if we had a thousand zeds waiting for us on either end, we weren’t going anywhere when we got there.
“It was a spectacle,” I heard Kate say.
“Why? It’s just a train on one track instead of two.”
“Back in the early 60’s, that was a big deal. It was thought of as the future. The people then thought that we would all be in flying cars and using robots to cook dinner.”
Ky scoffed, head bent over as she watched her footfalls, Romeo’s tail wagging back and forth as he made his way confidently along the narrow track.
“Not much of a future, is it?”
Kate spoke softly, seriously. “No, kid. I guess it’s not.”
“Quiet,” said Rhodes, motioning to the street.
We were passing above 5th Avenue, which ran beneath the rails all the way to the Needle, and the convention center at the foot of it. A small pack of ten or fifteen of the creatures was meandering below, moving vaguely south, weaving drunkenly between parked and destroyed cars and trucks.
Rhodes, being cautious, waved us to a crouch, watching them as they passed and waiting for them to pass us before rising slowly. Only a hint of a limp remained in his walk after the injury in the crash, and I marveled at his resilience. Some of us had help healing. Others just had to man up.
The parallel tracks high above the city streets afforded a perfect and quick avenue over many blocks of rambling creatures and empty-looking buildings that could very well be full of dormant creatures, like the hotel from before.
Ahead, I could make out the outline of the oddly shaped museum at the foot of the Space Needle. The monorail ran to the building—a massive, reflective metal building with smooth, riveted sides intended to be a representational monument to the music scene—to a platform three stories above the ground, not directly to the Space Needle. If I remembered my tourist lessons well enough, the monorail was designed to get people to the Needle in style, so they could attend the World’s Fair in the sixties. I remember being unimpressed by the somewhat defunct area attached to the museum when I visited. It was full of shops and unappealing food stands at the time.
Of
course, I’m sure it was in much better shape now.
Rhodes stopped again, and motioned to the ground, his night vision goggles glowing red.
At an intersection below, a large group—not quite a herd, but large enough to be a concern—was wandering past. Again, we hugged the concrete and stayed quiet. Even Romeo knew to lay down and put his head on the cool cement until told to rise. And because he was a dog, he took a nap while he was doing it.
Rhodes watched them as they moved past, and motioned again when they were out from beneath us and moving away, unlikely to look back up and see our profiles against the moonlit evening horizon.
As I rose, I heard a small scuffle and a muted gasp, then saw Ky’s leg slip off the side of the railing, her foot disappearing to the side. Kate’s hand lashed out and grabbed her outstretched arm, but not before a small piece of metal—no more than a foot long—was dislodged from the ledge beneath Ky’s flailing foot, and fell to the ground.
Unfortunately, a car was beneath the ledge.
Unfortunately, the metal hit the windshield.
And of course, because we had that kind of luck, the metal shattered the windshield and set off a bloody car alarm.
Kate yanked Ky up quickly, and we flattened ourselves against the rail, as the group below looked around, searching in the poor light for the source of the noise. They moved as one, surging back to the intersection, arms coming up, legs pulling slowly but steadily, surrounding the car beneath us and beginning to pound on the hood and the doors, mindlessly searching for the food that might be inside.
I pressed the transmit button on my comms, and softly spoke.
“How long you think they can keep this up?”
Rhodes was succinct.
“How long you got?”
I put my head on the concrete and sighed again.
Then, in the distance, I heard something new.
An engine.
A large, very noisy, very human engine.
I raised my head long enough to look down, and saw the group of creatures below turn toward the sound. The noise of a heavy machine gun cut through the air, and the creatures below were mowed down systematically, their bodies exploding outward in a spray of bone and flesh. The final round of ammunition spat into the blaring car, silencing the alarm.