by Gayle Katz
As I approach the building, it reminds me of a newsstand. Shelves for books and magazines. Slots for candy and cigarettes. And a refrigeration unit for water and sodas! The glass is broken, but I see various beverages that look untouched. They’ll be warm, but at least I won’t die from thirst.
I grab for one of the bottled waters, twist off the cap, and smell the water, just in case. There’s no smell so I take a sip. It’s not as warm as I thought it would be, but maybe it’s because I’m already overheated. My mouth is as dry as a desert. At this point, anything would seem cool in comparison. I chug the rest down, toss that bottle aside, and throw a few more bottles into my bag.
I’m still thirsty so I indulge and twist open another water when I get a strange feeling that someone is following me. I perk my head up, look around, and see three men closing in on my location. I try to remain calm.
At first glance, they’re covered in dark clothing and wearing sunglasses, which makes sense for the scorching hot weather. They then remove their sunglasses and pull down their scarves. When they do, they look alike and are quite easy on the eyes. As I scan their features, I see dark hair, tan skin, deep eyes, and nice muscled arms that almost burst from their drab, protective clothing. None of them seem over the age of 30. There’s sweat on their brows, but not as much as on mine. I must be a hot mess since I’m not used to this type of blistering weather.
I’ve yet to hear them speak, but based on looks alone, if there’s a threesome I would want to capture me, these guys are definitely them. They look at one another and then back at me. I try to keep my anxiety in check. Freaking out won’t help anyone. Needless to say, I only have a water bottle in my hand to protect myself and they have big, badass machine guns and assault rifles out and at the ready. Even if I could reach into my bag and grab my teeny revolver, it’s much too small to compete with the big boys they have in hand. It doesn’t seem like a fair fight. I hope they’re friendly.
“Hello,” I say.
They say something, but I don’t understand. Had I known where I was going more than a couple hours ahead of time I might have taken the time to learn the basics of the Arabic language. Unfortunately, I didn’t and now I’m stuck.
“Do you speak English?” I pray they do.
“Yes. We do,” the shortest of the three men says as he points his gun at me. Of course, he’s only shorter by an inch or two. “Put your hands in the air. Why are you out here?”
I do as he orders and raise my hands, one of which still holds the open water bottle. “Can you put down the gun?”
“No.”
“Please don’t point it at me. They have a way of going off and I don’t want to be in front of it when it does.”
“Answer and then I’ll consider.”
“Sure. I was thirsty. I needed something to drink. Now will you put down your weapon or at least not point it directly at me?” I ask as I continue to hold the water bottle above my head.
He instead pummels me with another question. “Are you infected?”
“She doesn’t look infected,” one of the other men says.
“Aron, let the woman answer the question,” the guy pointing the gun at me implores his comrade.
“N-No, I’m not infected,” I say.
The short one comes close, swipes the bottle from my hands, and drinks the rest of it.
“You didn’t answer my first question,” he continues as he points his gun at me again. “I’ll ask again and speak slowly. Why. Are. You. Here?”
Am I screwed? When the Rat gave me this mission he only said I need to acquire his merchandise. He didn’t say anything about talking to other people. He’s got to know I’m going to need help to be successful, right?
“U-Uh,” I mutter.
The tallest of the men steps in between us, slowly pushes the barrel of the other guy’s gun down to the ground, and steps closer to me. “Is that better?” he asks.
I nod.
“Despite how my brother is acting, we’re not your enemy and we don’t want to hurt you. It’s just that we don’t get many visitors and with those monsters running around, we like to err on the side of caution when we meet new people. Anyway, my name is Damar. And you are?”
“Jane. My name is Jane.”
“Nice to meet you, Jane. This is my youngest brother, Aron, and that’s our middle brother, Samir.”
I nod in their direction. Aron seems calm, cool, and collected. And not nearly as jumpy as Samir.
“Samir can be a little…intense,” Damar adds. “I’m sorry if he scared you.”
“It’s OK,” I reply. “These zombies have a way of getting under your skin. I understand.”
“You’ve encountered them before?”
“Yeah.” I show him my bite mark scar.
Damar jumps back and points his rifle at my head. I can’t look down the barrel of a gun, so I turn my head away in fright and hold my hands up in a defensive pose.
“They did get you,” Damar shouts. “You lied to us. We help you and you lie to us?”
“No. No. No. P-Please put down the gun. I can explain.”
“No. Explain first and then I’ll consider putting the gun down. Talk, lady.”
“I-I…”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you!”
“I-I have trouble doing that when someone is pointing a gun at my head.”
“Get over it. If you don’t start explaining, my pointing a gun at your head will be the least of your problems.”
“Fine. Th-that bite was a long time ago. Years ago. I received treatment and I’m better now. It’s just a scar. Please don’t shoot me.”
“How can I believe you?”
“I guess you can’t. You don’t know me, but think about it. If they bit me, wouldn’t I be bleeding right now? I remember when one of those monsters bit me. I was bleeding so bad I almost passed out. I could barely stand. That was a long time ago. I was treated and it’s healed. Take a look for yourself.” I hold out my shaky arm for Damar to inspect again more closely.
“If she does anything suspicious, shoot her,” he instructs Samir and Aron. He then runs his rough fingers over my scar and then signals his brothers to put down their weapons. “Sorry. I’m a bit jumpy. You can’t let even one of those things in or else you’re screwed.”
My anxiety begins to lessen a bit now that I’m no longer looking down the barrel of a gun cocked and ready to blow my head off. I try to have a normal conversation with these mystery men. “I get it. And I don’t blame you. I’ve been through this type of mess before and you’re right.”
“You were bitten and survived?” Damar asks.
“Yes.”
“I’ve never met anyone so lucky. Do you need any help? We have a safe house not far from here. You’ll be out of harm’s way there.”
Chapter 10
________________________________________
“I don’t want to be a drain on your supplies. I—”
“Shh!” Damar interrupts. “I hear something. We have to find cover.”
Damar makes a hand gesture to his brothers. Instantly, they spring into action. Samir and Aron point their guns in various directions trying to get a fix on the disturbance. Both brothers are looking in opposite directions in order to cover as wide an area as possible.
“What did you hear?” I whisper.
Damar doesn’t say anything. He just puts his finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet.
As he’s looking around, I smell that familiar odor of rotting, decaying flesh pass my nose. I know what’s coming and I get nervous. “Where should we go?” I’m looking in all directions trying to help spot where they might be coming from, but I don’t see anything yet.
Damar grabs my hand and he heads toward the adjacent two-story building. He waves to his brothers to follow. Damar tries to open the door, but it’s locked. He pulls his rifle from his side and uses the butt of the gun to smash the window at the top of the door.
I guess the nois
e of glass shattering is loud enough to give away our position because zombies instantly start streaming toward us. Not just one or two, but a whole swarm of them. There must be a horde of at least twenty. Samir gets his gun ready as he approaches the door. Aron is a little farther out but closing in on our position fast.
My attention is divided between watching Damar fiddle with the door and keeping an eye on the zombies. As the horde gets closer, I get more fearful about what’s going to happen next. Step-by-step, I can hear them making their signature snarling sounds and, no matter how many times I encounter them, it still freaks me out.
“Got it!” Damar yells as the door gives way. He then slams open the door, runs inside, and pulls me with him. “Samir! Aron! Move it!”
The two of us sprint up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” I shriek.
“As far away from those things as possible,” Damar replies. “I believe these stairs lead to the roof.”
As we circle up three flights of stairs, we come to the emergency exit door. We hear shots fired on the stairs below. Turning around, neither of Damar’s brothers are behind us.
“Samir! Aron!” Damar runs down a half flight of stairs and shouts again. “Get your asses up here! Hurry!”
Damar darts back to the emergency door and I see both brothers rushing up the stairs close behind him. As soon as the four of us are together, Damar opens the emergency door and the alarm trips on. The ringing sound is so deafening, I have to hold my ears. Not good. That alarm is serving as a beacon telling any zombie in hearing distance that dinner is ready. As we explode onto the rooftop, we all look around for something to block the door.
We each explore a section of roof and I find an old metal chair. I try to move it, but it’s too heavy. “Damar! Help me!”
Both Damar and Samir come over and take the chair from me. I watch as they jam the metal chair under the doorknob so the chair is leaning back and its front legs are in the air. They push it so it’s jammed as far back as possible and won’t move. Meanwhile Aron surveys the roof.
As I look over the ledge, I see zombies from every corner of the block descending on our building like ants to a piece of candy on the sidewalk. I fear that the chair won’t hold them off for long. We’re not safe up here.
Damar grabs my arm and pulls me toward him. “What are you doing?” he yells over the alarm. “We have to go, and we only have a few minutes. We need to get off this roof and get back to the safe house without those things following us. Follow me.”
“Look!” I point down to the street where the zombies are forming an undead mob.
“Yeah. I know. Not good. This way. Let’s go,” Damar shouts.
The roofs are flat and they’re connected because they’re all on the same block. Time and the elements have punished these buildings. Some of them look rotted out. Others are ready to collapse.
“Watch where you step,” he says.
Damar leads the way and we hop from one roof to another. As we get farther away from the original building, the alarm sounds begin to lessen and I start to hear other sounds again. As we clear each building, some roofs have barbed wire fencing, but for the most part, we’re able to easily move from one building to the next. I follow closely behind Damar and his brothers are taking up the rear. When we reach the last building in the row, Damar starts looking around.
“There!” he whispers loudly. “We have to get to our truck on the other side of the road.”
What a change. I can finally hear Damar again without him shouting at me. I look down from the three-story building we’re on with trepidation. “Um. How are we gonna get down there? I don’t think we can jump. At least, I can’t.”
“Don’t be silly. There’s a fire escape on the back of this end unit here.”
Samir signals for us to come over. He found it.
I look at the rickety, rusted fire escape and turn back to Damar. “Is this thing gonna hold? It doesn’t look…very sturdy,” I say as I touch the metal and parts of it flake off in my hand.
Damar’s gaze is drawn elsewhere. “We don’t have a choice. They’re coming, but the barbed wire should hold them off for a few minutes.” He points behind me.
I turn around and see that the massive horde broke through the door. Luckily, Damar is right. The barbed wire fencing is keeping them busy for now, but soon they’ll be headed right for us if we don’t get out of here. Damar yanks my arm. “Just step carefully and when you get down to the ground, head toward the truck. Fast!”
I carefully step onto the fire escape, but Damar insists on leading the way. “Get behind me.” Partway down the first flight of stairs, he turns around briefly. “Samir, Aron, don’t mess around this time. Shoot ’em in the head if they get close. Otherwise focus on getting down to the bottom and to the truck, OK?”
“OK. Yes. Yes. Go!” Samir replies.
Damar continues onto the fire escape and it holds. “Your turn,” he says to me.
I follow him onto the metal contraption and we begin to make our way down.
“Samir! Aron!” I hear him shout. “Come on. Let’s go. We’re leaving.”
As Damar and I zigzag down the rickety stairs and finally step onto solid ground, I’m grateful the whole thing didn’t collapse on top of us. I see Samir and Aron dashing down the stairs as fast as their feet can carry them. When I look up, I see zombies at the top of the building in the exact spot we were seconds ago.
Before Damar’s brothers reach the concrete pavement, many of the zombies take a tumble over the side of the building and make splattering sounds when they hit the asphalt. Amazingly some of them get back up and continue to pursue us.
Racing over to the truck, I can’t help but look back at the monsters following us. Some of the zombies are missing limbs. One of them is missing the whole right side of his head. He even might have left it on the ground behind him. It doesn’t seem to matter much as they keep coming. Not even a fall from the top of a three-story building stops them.
Samir gets to the bottom of the emergency escape and shoots the zombies blocking his path. Aron is still coming down the escape when a zombie falls on him and smacks him to the metal floor of the next to last level of the escape. It looks as though he fell on his head and chest, knocking the wind out of him.
The zombie attacks, biting Aron in the neck. Bleeding, he hits the zombie with the butt of his gun, crushing his attacker’s skull. He manages to get back onto his feet, but he’s clearly winded or dazed from the assault. Holding his neck as blood pours from his wound, Aron goes down the last flight of stairs, but he trips and falls.
Samir runs close to try to save him but stops short when he sees Aron is already surrounded by monsters. Samir shoots as many zombies as he can, but more and more of them gather around his fallen brother, biting and clawing at him without mercy.
Aron’s blood is gushing from their vile, unholy mouths. Samir keeps shooting the zombies who still gather around his brother, but there’s no respite in sight. He looks at Aron and then back at us.
“Samir! Let’s go!” Damar shouts as we approach the truck.
Samir doesn’t move.
“Get in the truck and stay there,” Damar says to me. “I’ll be right back. I gotta get Samir.”
“OK,” I reply.
Damar opens the truck door, and once I hop inside, Damar slams the door shut and I lock it. I then watch as he sprints over to Samir, gun in hand, shooting all of the undead bastards trying to kill them. Damar whispers something into Samir’s ear and drags him back to the truck. Samir keeps looking back.
I unlock the doors for them as soon as they reach the truck. They get inside fast. Damar is quick on the draw and already has his key off of the carabiner and in the ignition. I make sure to lock the doors again, while Samir continues to stare at the zombies who killed Aron.
“Snap out of it, Samir. We need you here,” Damar says.
“Yeah. OK. I’m good,” he chokes out, as tears start to well up in his eyes
.
“Turn it on!” I say. I see a couple zombies start climbing on the hood of the truck.
“Give me a minute,” Damar replies. “I’m trying, but it’s not starting!”
The zombies are now pounding on the windshield. After a few more seconds, more of them are banging against the doors and windows. We hear something shatter. We turn around and see something broke the back window. They’re starting to climb onto the back.
“Got it!” Damar says as he turns the key a third time and finally starts the ignition. “Buckle up!”
He stomps on the gas and the zombies fly into the windshield with a thud. As he speeds up, they either hit the ground or roll onto the roof. After a few seconds of flying forward, Damar punches the brakes and the zombies on the truck fly off. Feeling confident we’re secure in the cab, Damar relaxes his driving style after rolling over the zombie speed bumps in front of us.
Damar looks over at Samir and me. “We’re good now. We just need to keep moving and we’ll be fine.”
“That was close,” I reply and then instantly regret my words. “I’m sorry.”
Samir doesn’t say anything.
Damar looks away, trying to compose himself. “Aron knew the risks. Everybody here does. We’ll mourn for him later. Right now we have to get out of here.” He clears his throat. “So tell me, why are you roaming around out here alone? A woman could get hurt doing that.”
“I have my reasons,” I reply, unwilling to release the details of my assignment or my bag.
“They must be good reasons to be out here all alone. I don’t know why else you’d be risking your life. If you tell us, maybe we could help yo—”
Damar doesn’t even finish his sentence before the passenger window next to Samir is shattered.
A zombie arm punches through the glass and reaches in to grab us. The zombie is holding onto the side of the truck and trying to invade the cab. It sticks its head inside and is making those horrible moaning, biting, and screeching sounds.
“It’s Aron!” I yell.
Samir can’t get to his gun. Still driving, Damar pulls out his weapon from his shoulder holster and the truck swerves.