“We think they’ve been trying to signal us for an hour or so. Dumbo here just thought it was a machine or something.”
Keith was taken aback when Snake called the man “Dumbo,” thinking that the name-calling was a bit harsh. After all, most young people didn’t even know what Morse Code was. Once he turned to look at the younger man and saw his huge ears, it all made sense. Keith had to fight back a grin.
Dumbo shrugged his shoulders and asked nonchalantly, “Can I go to sleep now?”
Snake nodded and the younger biker strolled out the door.
Handing Keith a flashlight, Snake pointed to the eighth floor of a nearby building where a dim flashing light could be seen.
“I walk by that place all the time on the way to the gym. It’s an office building,” Keith said. “There’s some kind of engineering firm there and a computer company. I’m not sure what else. It always seemed like a busy place so there should either be a lot of survivors or a lot of infected.”
Snake was lost in his thoughts for a moment as he looked out the window, eyes scanning the dark between the two buildings.
Turning away from the window, he said to Keith, “I’ve found one of my guys that can actually write if you need to dictate.”
A man in a leather cap smiled proudly at Keith while holding up a pen and a pad of paper.
Keith glanced at the man and said, “If you don’t mind playing secretary, that’ll work for me.”
He turned and watched the signal for a while. “That’s SOS.”
He took the flashlight and started to send back long flashes just to get the attention of those in the other building and to let them know that someone had gotten the message. After about a minute of the long flashes, there was a response. The light from the other building began to flash up and down erratically for a moment before a slight pause then a mixture of long and short flashes.
“Dot dot dot, that’s an s and dot dot dash – “u” I think,” he told the biker. “Let’s see, dot dash dot is “r” and dot dot dot dash, um, “g” I think. I don’t remember for sure. Okay, we got “i” and another “g” then o, r, s.”
“Surgigors?”
“I guess that dot dot dot dash had to be a v, not a g,” Keith said, looking at the paper. “Survivors.”
Thinking for a moment, Keith spelled out the words, “More details needed.”
“Okay, this one is going to be longer, so we’ll translate it after it’s done,” Keith said to the biker. He began slowly calling out dots and dashes as he got them. Once the message stopped, he looked the paper over, translating the message.
“Twenty trapped on eighth floor. Building overrun. No food. No water.”
Keith let out a slow breath as he glanced at the other building.
Snake was amazed that Keith had remembered the code so well after so many years. He imagined how helpless the survivors must have felt, being trapped by the infected as they watched Snake and his men quickly annihilate a parking lot full of them. He wondered why the building wasn’t lit up like the hospital, but then realized that, unlike the hospital, it probably had just an emergency backup generator, designed to only run essentials such as heat and emergency exit lighting. That would also explain the lack of water. He had heard that some older buildings had to have assist-pumps to increase the water pressure enough to reach the top floors. It was possible that the basic generator wasn’t designed to run those pumps. Regardless, a rescue operation would have to be planned.
“I could gather up a fresh set of men and take them over,” Snake said. “Glad we had them take shifts.”
“A couple of the newcomers mentioned that they wouldn’t mind helping you guys out,” Keith said. “I don’t know if they talked to you or not.”
Snake nodded. “Yeah, but I want to give them a couple days to rest and rehydrate before taking them back out there. Some of them have been through a lot and have been without food and water. I’d rather have them get healthy first then give them a chance to join us.”
He glanced at the other building again. “I wonder if we could use the fire escape. Then again, there must be a reason they aren’t using it to get out.”
“I noticed that a lot of the buildings around here don’t have fire escapes,” Keith said, unable to see much of the other building in the dim glow of the street lights. “I wonder why? Maybe there’s a second set of stairs inside instead.”
He thought about offering to go along on the rescue but the nursing staff was already spread very thin. “I can stay up here while you go if I can get Amelia to help out on the third floor,” he said. “If I have a radio here and you take one with you, I can be the go-between.”
“Well, I think I’ve caught my second wind,” Snake replied. “I stayed up for a week once in my party days. I guess it won’t kill me to miss a little more sleep.”
“A week?” Keith asked, impressed. “The longest I ever made it was 48 hours once.”
“Believe me,” Snake said about his week-long wake marathon, “I had help from several substances that I can’t even name. I think I’ll just stick to a cup of coffee, now. I’m going to need to borrow your secretary but I’ll find someone that’s awake enough to take notes for you then I’ll round up my posse.” Snake smiled as he headed to the door. “I’m going to send up a couple guys to clear the parking lot, too, but it shouldn’t take long. Not too many of those things out there this morning.”
“Yeah, I think that Helga and I made a dent in their population last night,” Keith said. “Probably not a real smart move.”
“Well, it turned out all right, so I’m not too worried about it,” Snake said. “Sorry about your wife.”
“Thanks,” Keith replied. Turning his attention back to the window, he let the people in the other building know he’d have a message in a moment. He had to write it down since it was going to be a long one, but then he sent it, telling them what the plan was and that he would be the liaison during the rescue.
Snake went to talk to Amelia then made his way to the first floor to have the bikers get ready for another run. He noticed that the lights were on in Doune’s lab and he stuck his head inside.
“You’re up bright and early today,” he said to the doctor and Autumn.
“Well, we’re not going to cure this zombie disease by sleeping all day,” Autumn said.
“I’ve got a favor to ask,” Snake said, explaining about the message they’d received from the other building. “Can Autumn go to the observation deck and take notes? I’m going to need to take a fresh crew and the others are sleeping.”
Doune glanced at Autumn and said, “We can look at the slides of the brain later. They won’t be going anywhere.”
“You mind being a secretary for a while?” Snake asked Autumn.
“Yippee,” she said with a bored look on her face. “I’m going from dissecting to dictating.”
Snake thought for a bit.
“Maybe it’s better if we find someone else,” he said, watching her out of the corner of his eye. We might be receiving some pretty gnarly messages. Might give you nightmares.”
Autumn gave him that ‘I know what you’re trying to do’ look, but she had to admit, it did sound exciting.
“Alright,” she cracked a smile. “Sign me up.”
Doune went back to his observations once the girl left. Now that he had the microscope and other equipment, he’d made some interesting discoveries. So far, he hadn’t passed on what he’d learned to any of the others since he needed to run a few more tests to be certain. If his assumptions were correct, then the culprit behind the plague was a very complex parasite, rather than a virus.
~*^*~
~34~
Snake directed Autumn to the observation room then headed back to the ER. He talked to a couple of his men who were getting ready to start work on the gate.
“Hey, Boss, this is Carmen,” Gunner said, nodding toward a young woman with spiked, red hair. Snake thought he recognized her as one of the sur
vivors that Lt. Reynolds had dropped off.
“Nice to meet you,” Snake said, offering his hand.
“She’s a welder and she’s going to give us some help with the gate,” Gunner said. “She’s done lots of iron work.”
“Awesome,” Snake told her with a grin. “Two of my guys weld, but I’m taking one of them with me. I’m sure you and Gunner can handle it.”
Gunner said, “We’re going to make sure the gates can’t be pulled off the pins, and we need to weld the metal plates onto the front of the gates so the zombies can’t see inside or reach through. That’s all, right?”
“Yep, that’s it,” Snake said.
“You know the gates are a little shorter than the wall, right?” he asked.
“Yeah, I had Moose go eight feet high on the walls to be safe.”
“Want us to make the gates a little taller?” Gunner asked.
“Sure. You guys just be careful and have someone watching your backs at all times while you’re out there.”
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Gunner said. “We cleared a spot in the ER and we’ll put the plates on in there. We’ll just be outside to do the work on the pins.”
“Um, you might want to wait and add the plates to the top after you get the doors outside,” Snake said.
“Why?” Gunner asked.
“Because the door to the hospital is only seven feet high.”
“Oh, gotcha, Boss,” Gunner laughed. “That wouldn’t have worked too well, I guess.”
“No, it could’ve been a bit of a problem,” Snake said, then added to Carmen, “Appreciate the help.”
After chugging a couple cups of strong coffee, he gathered a group of his men in the ER and let them know about the survivors in the other building and his plan to attempt a rescue. Lindsey wandered over when she heard them talking and she asked if she could go along.
“You sure?” he asked. “This one might get a little tricky. Sounds like the whole building is overrun.”
“I’m sure,” she said. “I won’t tell you that I’m not terrified to do it, but honestly, I think it’s a fear I need to face. I don’t see anything changing in the near future and I would rather learn how to deal with the infected now than to hide out and hope someone else will keep me safe. Besides, I’d rather be doing this than hanging out in the lab, watching Dr. Doune. Just give me a couple minutes.”
She hurried to her room for her sweater, knowing that it would be chilly outside. She was lucky to have it, since the weather had been hot when the outbreak had happened. The air conditioning in the hospital tended to get cold at times, though, so she had been in the habit of keeping a sweater in her locker.
Her pistol and cross bow were hidden in the truck, along with most of the other guns and ammo, but she was sure that Snake had plans to retrieve the weapons before making the rescue.
~*~
Snake went to get one of the few working flashlights from the kitchen, though Theresa protested at first.
“If the lights go out again, I’ll be cooking breakfast in the dark,” she huffed.
“I know,” he said, shrugging, “but we got some survivors to try to rescue. They’re in a dark building filled with zombies.”
“Well, in that case, take it,” she said, handing it over.
“I’ll have someone bring you a lantern in case you need it,” Snake promised.
“I’d appreciate it,” she said. “I’ll keep breakfast warm for you and the others in case you’re gone a while.”
“We have to be back by dawn. We’ll see you before then,” Snake said, winking before turning to leave with the others.
By the time Lindsey got back down to the first floor, the shooters in the Crow’s Nest had cleared the parking lot of most of the unwanted visitors. The bikers looked like they were ready to go. They had begun parking their bikes inside the hospital since the undead had a habit of knocking them over, domino style, when they were left outside. The two first floor hallways were usually lined with bikes on both sides and the ER waiting room had them all along the walls, too. Once the gate was in place, the plan was to add a small garage in the parking lot if enough materials could be found.
“We’re just taking bikes this time,” Snake told Lindsey. “It took too long to get the truck in place last night, so if we can manage to get the survivors back with just the bikes, that’ll be best. If not, we’ll come back and get it.”
Wolf motioned for Lindsey to join him, so she hopped onto the back of his motorcycle once he had rolled it outside. They started their engines and once they were ready, the bikes raced through the gap in the wall where the gate would soon be installed. More of the undead were already starting to wander toward the hospital while the bodies from the previous night’s rampage still smoldered in a pile.
Once the bikes were out of the way, the two large gate panels were placed on the floor of the ER so that Gunner and Carmen could start working on them. The gates weren’t quite wide enough to fit the gap in the wall, so the welders had to add a couple inches to the sides of each panel before adding the steel plates to the outside.
~*~
It had rained during the night, leaving the air cool and damp. Oppressive dark clouds hung low in the sky and kept the moon well-hidden. The ominous feeling was compounded by the echoes of voices and engines and made so much worse by the moans of the undead. Lindsey shuddered, telling herself that the chills running through her were due to the unusually cool morning.
A quick detour was made to pick up weapons at the truck then the bikes roared down the street, spraying water from the wet pavement along the way. It was only a half a block away, but there was a park between them that was dense with trees and shrubs. They knew that anything could be lurking in wait. In their new world, it didn’t take a vivid imagination to visualize the worst. They were already living it.
When the group arrived at the parking lot, they found it almost zombie-free except for a few at the entrance of the building. Gathering at the far end of the lot, they parked the bikes in such a way as to light up the area well.
As with much of the city, the electricity went on and off sporadically and there was no guarantee that the street lights would stay on for long.
As Snake and a few others surveyed the building for easiest access, Lindsey watched the shadows for signs of the dead.
“Keith was right,” Snake observed. “No fire escape.” There were two glass doors directly in front that had been shattered and several metal doors on either side of the building. The back had a row of windows, mostly broken, and one door marked ‘Fire.’
“Suppose that’s some kind of inside fire escape?” Snake suggested. “The way Keith described it, the bottom floors are swarming with the dead. I’d rather try to find a way around them, or at least most of them, instead of trying to plow through. A building this size could have hundreds of them.”
A young, long-haired biker in the back spoke up. “I think that’s a riser room, Boss. You know, where the fire department goes to connect their hoses and stuff. Probably no access to the inside.”
Snake looked at him sideways. The biker smiled sheepishly.
“I’m a plumber, or I was a plumber.”
“Well, so much for going through there,” Snake replied. “I wonder if they said anything to Keith about getting into this place and where the majority of these goons are gathered.”
Snake radioed Keith with his inquiry.
~*~
Chuck sat on the side of his bed and yawned, trying to rub the last of a good night’s sleep out of his eyes. Although he was just twelve floors up from the carnage below him in the streets, he might as well have been in another world. His penthouse suite offered all the luxuries a man could want. Chuck had prepared for Y2K, the collapse of the dollar, and several other calamities that had been predicted by various fringe groups. When the apocalypse had hit, he had been ready by default. The solar collectors on the roof provided the penthouse with electricity, supplemented by a
backup generator for those cloudy days. The north side of the apartment had all been converted to storage rooms, taking away 180 degrees of his view, but for a good cause. The rooms were filled floor to ceiling with all sorts of provisions packed in boxes as well as a full walk-in freezer. He figured he had enough to keep him alive for a year or more if he rationed his supplies.
Standing and stretching, he walked over to the window and pushed the button that raised the blinds, revealing the city below. Something had caused him to wake early and he wondered what it might be. It was early and still dark outside, but since many of the street lights were functioning, they lit the city well enough for him to see several figures wandering aimlessly in the dark of the early morning. Seeing nothing unusual, at least for the post-apocalyptic world he now inhabited, he watched a moment longer before going to make a pot of coffee. Once inside the kitchen, he closed the door and turned on the light. He was always careful not to turn on the lights near the windows, knowing it might alert someone as to his presence.
While the glass pot began to fill with the rich brew, he cooked an omelet from his dehydrated food stash. Not quite as enjoyable as it would have been had he used fresh eggs, but it was still palatable.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee, he took it and his omelet to sit in the recliner by the window so that he could watch the streets below while he ate. It had been a while since he had seen another living being, although he knew there were survivors on the eighth floor. He and the others also shared the building with countless undead.
The survivors had contacted him by shouting through the ventilation system. It had begun after a bottle of tequila had urged him to blast Jimmy Buffet’s Margaritaville much louder than he should have. When he had come to his senses and cut the music, he had heard the banging on the ductwork. Not wanting to give away his presence, he had sat quietly until a woman’s voice had broken the silence. Still buzzing from the alcohol, he had replied. Their conversation had only gone on for a few minutes before his mind had tried to come up with a plan to bring her to his suite. When a man’s voice had chimed in, Chuck’s heart had sunk. When they had told him how many people were stranded on the eighth floor, he had regretted opening his big mouth, especially when they had related to him how dire their situation was. They had run out of food days earlier and their water was almost gone. Leaving had not been an option for them with all the infected roaming the halls and Chuck had certainly not been willing to attempt a rescue on his own. Sure, he had some weapons, but he was just one man against a mass of the undead. The other problem was that a year’s worth of provisions would last little more than a couple weeks when shared with twenty others. Sharing his goods wouldn’t have prolonged their lives for long, but it would have sealed Chuck’s fate.
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