by Bryan James
“We need your help, Eddy. What do you say? Wanna help save humanity?”
He stared at her for a moment, then turned to Justine.
“You are gonna owe me so big.” He stood up, turning and walking away with Justine giving us a quick smile as she took his arm.
“I want your peaches,” I heard him say as they walked away.
“That’s a steep price, Eddy. Those are fresh in the can. I’ll give you half…” Her voice trailed off as she followed the angry man and negotiated the price of his silence.
The large machine was kept in an alley outside the building. They accessed it through a second story fire escape from which they had removed the stairs. Only through the open top of the vehicle could you access the fire escape, and since the creatures rarely followed them back, the exposure wasn’t so serious as to warrant a concern.
Whenever they did get too close, they had devised a system involving a flare gun and a remote controlled, battery operated radio that could lure the creatures away, while the people inside remained silent. They had used a small radio-controlled helicopter for several weeks before the rechargeable battery was lost in a crash.
Much like the drone sound herding theory, in fact.
As we were waiting for Eddy and Jorge—they always worked together, and it had only taken a look from Justine to rouse the latter to action—we sat with Rhodes and watched Ky throw the ball to Romeo.
“You think this is gonna pan out?” said the large man quietly, as he watched the ball soar past an old soda machine, and the dog snatched the ball athletically from the air.
Somewhat stunned by him offering conversation, I sat up straight, taking a moment to formulate an answer.
In truth, I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t truly sure of much right now, other than the desire to have it all be over. To be normal again. To not have to fear the sunlight, or dread the shadow of a human form in the half-light. No more death and no more fear. No stinking corpses and rotting flesh.
What I could offer to Rhodes in response was much less, but still the truth.
“I think it has a chance,” I said softly. Beside me, Kate lifted her head and looked at both of us.
“It doesn’t just have a chance,” she said, “It is the chance. The only one. Whether it does work, or whether the new government continues to inoculate everyone to keep us from turning into zombies, just so we can all die of coronaries months later, it is the chance. Right now. It’s the only one we have.”
Rhodes grunted once, cocking his head and spitting to the side.
“So what you’re saying is that something is better than nothing,” he offered.
“It is,” she replied, conviction strong in her voice.
He looked up, meeting her eyes. They flashed with dedication and fervor. With love and courage.
He nodded once, and pushed away from the wall.
“I’m gonna see if they’ll let me check that fifty cal—those bastards have a way of jamming something fierce if they’re not maintained right, and if they picked it out of a busted up Humvee like they said, it might have some issues.”
His large form ghosted away.
Below us, in the main gallery, children and parents had drifted back to their quarters, trying to steal a few more moments’ sleep. Our arrival had roused the whole community, and only those that were involved in getting us back out the door were up and moving.
“Mike,” said Ky, holding the decrepit ball in one small hand.
“Yeah, kid?” Her voice was smaller, somehow. More vulnerable.
“What do you… Do you really think that someday, it might all be normal?”
Kate’s hand found my own and I sighed.
“I think it can be. It’s going to take some time. And it’s never going to be the same, but I think it can be better. I think we can win.”
She looked up, the sadness of her face contrasting sharply with the rapidly moving tail on the dog behind her with only one focus—the ball in her hand. She wiped her nose suddenly, and turned away, tossing the ball as the dog turned into a red blur.
“You folks ready?” said a voice behind us, and I turned to the man who had been the last to join us. Oscar was a vet of Iraq and Afghanistan. Honorable discharge and working as a farm hand when it all went down. He was in the Space Needle with his family when the attacks started and they made it down in time to get inside with Justine and a few others before it got worse.
He carried a police issue Remington shotgun, enough for stopping power, but he was low on shells. Kate still had her Pathfinder, but her weapon took a different load, so he was also sporting a sidearm. I had lost my shotgun in the city, but had plenty of rounds for the pistol. I had taken the time to affix the laser sight from my bag, so the headshots were a little easier.
“Yeah, thanks Oscar,” we rose quickly, sparing one more glance for the quieting scene of domesticity below as mothers and fathers and children and real people settled down to sleep. We climbed a set of metal stairs onto a walkway that circled the outer wall of the building. The thin metal seemed scant protection from what I knew to be outside, and I renewed my commitment again to seeing this through.
As if reading my mind, Kate glanced at me and smiled, her warmth and love clear in the milliseconds of connection.
That.
That was what made living a life in this world gone to hell worth it.
The external door was marked with bright red paint, a large “X” painted from corner to corner, and even a line of police tape pulled across the walkway. I ducked under the yellow line and Oscar shrugged as if answering an unspoken question.
“Kids, you know? We keep someone on guard up here, but we need to reinforce the message. They’re not supposed to come up here, but…”
“Hey, I hear ya. Kids. Can’t live with ‘em and too stringy to bother eating.”
I saw Ky make a face, and I looked at her. She caught my eye and I slowly extended my tongue and puffed up my cheeks. Startled, she jumped slightly before laughing.
“Okay, your friend is already out there with Eddy and Jorge. Eddy drives, Jorge mans the fifty cal. Your friend Rhodes is going to provide close-in cover fire and we’ll be riders unless they get close. We’re not a silent ride, but we move quickly, and usually lose them at the water’s edge. That’s the trick with this taxi, right?”
“Copy that,” I said, and he nodded and opened the door.
Cool night air slipped into the opening, and I took a deep breath unconsciously. Untainted by any smoke or rot, it was cool and dry and fresh. It carried the hint of a coming morning and a vague smell of pine and evergreen.
The throaty roar of the ancient engine caught me off guard, and I jumped out quickly, scrambling over the ledge of the doorway into the open back of the large machine.
During the second World War, the allies had used vehicles like this one for amphibious assaults in both theaters. Long and thin, almost like a school bus, it sat on large wheels high above the ground. An open top with a canvas cover over a metal frame made it accessible from our perch, and a jerry-rigged fifty cal emplacement welded to the frame close to the front, where the driver sat behind an old plate glass windshield on collapsible frame, was slightly out of place in the bright yellow machine imprinted with cartoonish ducks.
It sat idling in the alleyway like a huge, sleeping beast, waiting to jump into the jungle of concrete and walking dead bodies. Kate and I sat down in two weathered seats, normally reserved for tourists looking for a different view of the city. In the seat pocket in front of mine, a pale, sun and rain-tortured pamphlet wilted sadly down from the small enclosure, the only visible image the glossy depiction of the Space Needle.
Oscar closed the hatch behind him, knocking twice to the woman who waited inside to seal it from within, and the metal bar inside slid into place as he hopped down. Jorge stood near the front of the machine, several feet behind where Eddy was easing the wheel to the side and stepping on the gas, the fifty cal swiveling slowly.
We pulled out slowly into the road, passing in front of the oddly shaped metal shelter, and veered sharply to the right before turning back to the left again, zigzagging toward the lake. I stood shakily, navigating the awkward floor and walking to the front of the machine for a better view ahead. The large, hilarious nose of the incredibly awkward machine protruded into my field of vision, and I chuckled to myself.
Riding to the end of the world in a giant duck. A giant duck with a fifty cal on the back, and a bunch of assholes inside, hoping that they can find a way to keep their super strength from killing them before herds of the living dead has a chance to floss their teeth with their hides.
What an exotic life.
We passed the first grouping of creatures right outside of the Needle, and Jorge swiveled to track them, but didn’t fire. It was an odd assortment, but they all groups of the dead were mismatched—collections of humanity pressed together by fate and an absent God. There was a kid in a baseball cap, no more than seven years old. One hand was covered in a batting glove, torn slightly and matted with blood. A young woman wearing only a bra straggled behind, her arms limp at her sides as if they wouldn’t move, her hair still managing to come through as blond, despite the grime and dirt matted in.
They turned from where they clustered, huddled around the carcass of a long forgotten body, picking it clean of rotting tendrils of flesh and stringy tendons. Eyes, vacant and lifeless, pivoted in torn and broken heads.
As one, they lifted from the ground, and they followed the noise as we passed.
I stared forward into the darkness, down a street littered with debris. In the far distance, the barest hint of light was struggling to be seen behind the far-off mountain peaks, and I checked my watch.
We only had two hours until daylight.
The vehicle shuddered once as a shambler stumbled in front of the large wheels.
We swerved between a grouping of smashed cars and Eddy muttered something under his breath as we passed a looted Army-Navy surplus store.
“That was his brother’s,” said Jorge as he scanned the horizon for movement. I knew he was looking for large groupings that he would need to thin out. The smaller corpses that were now hitting the sides of the vehicle with some regularity weren’t a concern to him.
“His brother. Did he—”
“Oh yeah. Real bad, too. They got him while he was sleeping. He never had a chance. Eddy found him the next day. Not even enough left of him to put down. Just bones.”
Lovely.
The road dipped down gradually, and more of them were coming from between the buildings and behind the parked and shattered cars. I heard the whisper of Rhodes’ carbine several times, as several creatures made it close enough to warrant dispatch. Ahead, I could make out the calm surface of the lake, and behind it, the hills upon which I knew the university sat.
“Jorge,” said Eddy, a note of warning in his voice.
“Got it,” he said, swiveling the large weapon toward the front of the vehicle.
Kate joined me in the front row of seats as the vehicle slowed slightly, long enough for Eddy to evaluate the terrain.
The access to the water was a well-worn road lined with small homes and evergreen trees, down a steep hill to our left, then through a chain-link enclosed boat yard, and down a boat ramp to the water. Muddy tracks to and from the location indicated that it had been used in similar ways before.
In front of the narrow entrance to the boat ramp, a large herd of creatures was simply standing. They stared up at us, as if surprised that we had appeared.
“This normal?” I asked, slightly concerned. There were enough to cause a problem.
“No,” said Eddy, as Jorge answered as well. “There usually aren’t many at all. But there’s a big residential area up there, up that other hill from the marina—we always see our biggest groupings up there. We avoid it. There’s been a herd picking it over for a month. They never leave. Until today, that is.”
I unconsciously looked over my shoulder, back to the SeaTac camp.
It was as if they knew. As if they couldn’t stop themselves from merging with the others to converge on the fort.
We trundled forward, toward the large group. We had no choice.
Behind us, the smaller groups had joined together, shambling toward us and after us slowly, but with purpose. Our advantage was size and speed. Without the latter, the former meant nothing. We had to keep moving to stay alive.
“Rhodes,” I said, gesturing him forward. He whistled softly as the herd ahead surged forward.
“Got any explosives left?” I asked, staring as the moonlight highlighted the lifelessness of the hundreds of eyes ahead.
“Nope,” he said softly, pulling the magazine from his rifle and peering into the small metal space, checking his rounds.
The large machine moved slowly down the hill, passing several brightly painted colonials, their whitewashed window frames still bright in the moonlight. Out of place in a neighborhood street that seemed almost peaceful, a car was wrapped around a fire hydrant, its hood open and engine exposed to the night air. A fire truck was parked neatly on the other side of the road, a hose laying forgotten on the black roadway amidst a litter of helmets and a smear of effluent near the driver’s door.
I looked around worriedly, watching as the herd ahead grew closer.
Jorge threw down from his perch.
“We don’t have enough ammo for this many, man. We need to figure something out.”
My life was charmed.
No side streets.
No alleys.
No exits.
Just forward, or back.
Ky’s face was suddenly at my shoulder.
“I’ve got an idea,” she said shortly, and started speaking quickly.
I smiled, despite the low probability of success. It was worth a shot.
“Stop the bus,” I said loudly, tapping Eddy on the shoulder.
Jorge’s voice was frantic.
“My ass we’re stopping! Those things are a minute away!”
“It won’t take more than a minute. It’s our only shot.”
Rhodes leaned forward and caught Eddy’s eye. Cursing, the older man slammed on the brakes.
“You got ‘til those assholes are tapping on the back, then we’re leaving.”
I nodded and Ky moved to leave the vehicle with me. I looked over her shoulder and Kate shrugged.
What the hell. Might as well.
We jumped down and bolted across the street. Normally, it was a job for two men, but I picked up the slack with ease, dragging it across the street and slamming it through the windows of the broken car, positioning it firmly in the broken metal, facing the oncoming herd that was struggling up the crest of the steep hill merely fifty feet away. Rhodes stood near the door of the huge beast of a vehicle, carbine spitting erratically as he picked off the faster creatures.
Kate was standing near the truck, Ky’s eyes slightly wild but intent as she stared at the machine.
“I don’t know how this goddamned thing works,” Kate yelled, and Ky reached forward.
“This one, right?” Her hand flipped a switch and a small motor began to hum inside the fire engine.
“Then this one, ‘cause you need to adjust the pressure,” her eyes were glued to the panel now and Kate stepped back. I spared a glance over my shoulder and pulled the pistol loose from my hip.
“That should do it,” said Ky, frowning. The pumps were humming, the batteries in the large engine showing an impressive staying power.
“How the hell did you know how to do that?” asked Kate, voi
ce incredulous.
“Video games,” she responded. “How you like me now, Mike?”
“Nothing’s happening,” I said, turning to the tide of undead cresting the hill. I moved toward them, feeling the pulse in my neck quicken. My veins were coursing with energy, and I nearly put the gun away and pulled the blade from its sheath.
“But it should be… oh, wait.”
Kate yelled, and I laughed loudly as a torrential surge of water shot from the fire hose we had positioned in the nearby car, the stream knocking corpses from their feet and making the steep slope too slippery for traction. Those that weren’t knocked from their rotting feet by the jet of water fell as bodies slammed into their legs, and as water flowed in a torrent down the hill.
Still laughing, I took the rear as Kate and Ky sprinted to the duck-mobile. Rhodes even spared a smile as we mounted the steps of the old machine and started forward, the crowd ahead now thinned, and scattered.
The fifty cal spat in short staccato bursts, taking larger clusters and firing only ahead, sparing ammo for only the larger groups. Heads and torsos crumbled in the onslaught of lead and steel, and I cringed at the noise as the heady weapon made its presence known.
Then we made our turn, trundling through the marina’s parking lot, and onto the ramp leading into the water. Stopping at the water’s edge, Eddy pulled several switches and we heard the whirring sounds of machinery in motion as the vehicle prepared to go from land to sea.
I looked out the front window, where the orange nose of the machine was nearly touching the water. The surface was like glass, the slight breeze stronger near the water, but the liquid seemingly untouched by the air’s movement. Eddy’s movements were quick, and Jorge swiveled above the driver’s seat, the modified turret moving haltingly as he spun around. Rhodes had joined Oscar at the back, watching the crowd turn from the hill to follow us, bodies still falling and stumbling over one another, clumsy but determined.
“Avast, maties. Let’s hit the open seas,” Eddy screamed, and plunged the bus-like relic of wars gone by into the lake, slowly steaming us away from the approaching undead.