His Name Was Zach | Book 3 | Their Names Were Many

by Martuneac, Peter

  “The fuck was that!” Edmund yelled.

  Before Abby could say anything, yet another barrage of missiles hit the hotel. The helicopter that had brought down the other one was apparently piloted by a man fond of overkill, and he had either wanted to ensure the pilots of the downed chopper were dead or cause as much destruction as he could.

  The entire top third of the building began to rock and sway. Abby gingerly stepped over to the windows and chanced a look outside. Below her she could see several floors of the hotel on fire, the smoke already obscuring her view of the ground. Suddenly, the floor began to tilt upwards, and the room felt like it was on rollers.

  The building was falling.

  “Fuck! We’re fuckin’ dead!” Edmund yelled.

  Abby opened her mouth to reply, but at that moment she found a chance for survival: an open-air bar on a low rooftop of the building next to them.

  “We gotta jump!” Abby yelled as she ran back to Edmund and prepared for a desperate leap.

  “Are you fucking crazy?!” Edmund shouted.

  “Yeah, a little! Come on!”

  Abby was already running up the rapidly inclining floor, towards the shattered windows. Edmund cursed and followed her as fast as he could. The floor shifted, shaking the room and causing Abby and Edmund to stumble, but they pressed on.

  We’re gonna die, Abby thought as she raced to reach the windows before the building collapsed beneath her. She reached the edge and pushed off with all the strength her legs could muster just as the top of the hotel building she had been in broke completely off.

  “Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!” she cried as she plummeted through the cold morning air.

  Looking down, Abby watched the rooftop bar below rush up to meet her. If she had jumped far enough, she could probably land without killing herself.

  Probably.

  Abby hit the top of the building below her and rolled forward. She had just barely cleared the low glass barrier that ran around the roof, though a few sections appeared to be missing, exposing the edge of the building.

  A moment after Abby landed, Edmund crashed onto the building top, performing a slightly less graceful roll. They both quickly stood, and turned around to watch the building collapse. The incredible noise of shattered glass and broken steel momentarily drowned out the sounds of the battle raging below, and dust and smoke was blown for several blocks in all directions.

  Abby and Edmund looked at each other for a moment, and both awkwardly chuckled. But Edmund shoved Abby then and put his hands up, apparently willing to fight until he won. Abby sighed inwardly, tiring of this fight. They’d just jumped out of a freakin’ collapsing building, and Edmund still couldn’t just stop.

  Both Abby and Edmund were exhausted by this point as they continued to trade blow for blow, moving around the tables and chairs strewn all about the rooftop bar. As they approached the bar itself, Edmund grabbed Abby by the hair again and threw her into it.

  That pissed Abby off, and she put her hands out to stop herself, then spun around and hit Edmund with a hammerfist. She grabbed his arm and threw him into the bar, but he did not react as quickly as Abby and slammed into the bar chest first. Abby pushed his head down to the marble counter and, still holding his arm, proceeded to drag Edmund’s face down the bar, smashing into various bottles of alcohol that had been left there.

  “You fuckin’ little shit!” Edmund muttered. He grabbed an empty bottle, reached back, and smashed it onto Abby’s head. Abby grunted and released Edmund, who fell to the floor. He spun around as Abby was still clutching her head, and cut her across the outside of her left thigh with the piece of the broken bottle he still held.

  Caught completely off guard by Edmund’s improvised edged weapon, Abby yelped and jumped back. Edmund moved forward with blistering speed, slashing again at Abby, this time cutting her across the chest just below her collarbone on her right side. He faked another slash, making Abby lift her arms a bit, but then went low and thrust the broken bottle into Abby’s side.

  “Agh!” Abby cried. She trapped Edmund’s arm with her own and landed a hard uppercut on him, knocking him back. Abby pulled the broken bottle shard out of her side and tossed it away.

  “Really?! You’re stabbing me?!” Abby shouted, annoyed and angry at Edmund. He said nothing in response but shrugged his shoulders.

  Abby came at Edmund quickly, now determined to finish the fight. She kicked him high in his chest, knocking him back. She punched him twice, and when he put his arms up to defend himself, Abby kneed him in the groin as hard as she could. Edmund doubled over in pain, and Abby took this opportunity to grab Edmund’s arm. She turned into him and threw him over her shoulder, slamming him down on top of a table.

  Abby moved to the side of the table and pushed down on Edmund’s chest with her left hand while she hit him in the face as hard as she could with her right. “Just. Stop. Fighting!” she said, as she hit him three more times. Edmund seemed barely conscious, and Abby was beginning to wonder if she should even hit him anymore. She looked up for a moment, back down to Edmund, then snapped her head back up again.

  There was a zombie on the rooftop.

  “Oh crap,” Abby whispered. To her relief, the zombie was not running. In fact, it was barely stumbling towards her. It’s skin was ashy grey and falling off in places, and it was missing its lower jaw. It must have been infected a long time ago and got stuck up here, slowly withering away.

  While Abby took this moment to wonder if she should be overly concerned about the zombie, Edmund suddenly grabbed her by the neck of her tanktop, pulled her down, and smashed his head into the side of her face. The pain blinded Abby and she reeled back. Still on the table, Edmund kicked her hard in the chest. Abby stumbled over a chair that had been knocked onto its side and she fell backwards…

  …right over the exposed edge of the building!

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Abby grabbed onto the ledge with her right hand and barely saved herself from plummeting several stories down to the street. She reached up her left arm and started to pull herself up, but dropped back down as a bottle thrown by Edmund narrowly missed her face. Abby gasped as a chill ran down her spine.

  He was trying to kill her.

  “You know, Abby,” Edmund said as he walked towards her, “I really didn’t want to kill you when I woke up this morning.”

  “Edmund, wait, there’s a—“ Abby started to say, but she cried out in pain as Edmund stomped on her left hand, forcing her to hold herself up with only her right.

  “But now, I kinda do,” Edmund said as he stood over Abby. He stepped on Abby’s right hand but did not yet put too much pressure on it.

  “Listen to me! There’s a zombie right there!” she said, but Edmund completely ignored her. She could hear a very faint, low moan growing nearer, but apparently Edmund was too focused on Abby to notice.

  “Do me a favor, will ya? Tell Zach I said ‘hello’,” Edmund said.

  Abby could see the zombie at this point, right behind Edmund. She breathed in and said, “Tell him yourself, asshole!”

  Edmund noticed Abby’s gaze flick away from him and to his side. He turned around and found himself face to face with a zombie.

  It grabbed his arm and tried to pull him into its jaw as Edmund backed away. He tried to throw it to the side, but the zombie fell awkwardly, and as it fell it sunk its top row of teeth into Edmund’s lower back on his right side. Edmund kicked the zombie off, and then stomped on its head as hard as he could, crushing its soft, deteriorated skull.

  “FUCK!!” Edmund yelled, putting both his hands on top of his head as he paced back and forth. He kicked a chair and cursed loudly again.

  By now Abby had pulled herself back up onto the rooftop. She drew her pistol and leveled it at Edmund, slowly approaching him, her shoulders heaving as she tried to calm herself and steady her breathing. She honestly had not expected Edmund to actually try to kill her, so now she was taking no chances. She continued to creep up
towards him as he paced back and forth, but she stopped about fifteen feet away, keeping a table between the two of them.

  Edmund finally saw Abby pointing her gun at him and scoffed. “For Christ’s sake lass, put your fuckin’ gun down,” he said in an annoyed voice. “Fight’s over, I’m fuckin’ dead. I’m not gonna try to hurt ya.”

  Abby hesitated a moment, so Edmund said, “Look, have I ever fuckin’ lied to you?” He looked around, like he was trying to find something, and then slowly walked over to the bar. “Just…have a drink with me, will ya Abby?” he said, and then he bent over behind the bar, looking at the assortment of bottles left there.

  She was still weary of Edmund, but Abby believed that he was being genuine. She holstered her gun and limped over to the bar, dropping her gloves into her cargo pocket as she went. She picked up a fallen bar stool on which to sit and said, “Got any whiskey back there?”

  “Aye, a bottle of Jameson, but I’m the Irish one so I get the Irish drink,” Edmund replied without looking up. “There’s some red wine here,” he remarked.

  “Do I really look like a girl who drinks red wine, Edmund?” Abby asked as she sat down and propped herself up on the bar with her elbows, holding her aching head in her hands.

  “Whatever,” said Edmund. “How about some Pyrat rum?” he asked, holding up a short, fat bottle filled with an amber liquid.

  “Oh gimme,” Abby said, lifting her head up and stretching out her hand. Edmund handed her the bottle as he walked around the bar and sat on a stool next to Abby.

  “Cheers, eh?” he said, clanking his bottle against hers.

  “Cheers,” Abby replied before both she and Edmund took a long pull from their respective drinks. An intriguing portrait they must have made, Abby thought. Two people who moments ago were about to kill each other now sitting like old friends and having a drink at a dilapidated bar that was probably once considered high class.

  Their war-torn appearance only added to the comedy of this scene. Blood oozed from one corner of Abby’s mouth, staining a trail down to her chin. A dark bruise covered her cheek, from where Edmund had headbutted her. Just below her right collarbone was another long laceration from the broken bottle Edmund had used against her. Her tanktop hung by only one strap thanks to him, and had been shredded in several places from the burst hotel windows. Her pants were in similar condition, and several tiny cuts crisscrossed down her arms. And to top it all off, her right side ached from having been pummeled by Edmund.

  And he was in no better condition. His face had been severely pulverized by Abby and the Kevlar knuckles of her gloves, and his nose was likely broken. Gashes and cuts covered his cheeks and forehead, and he had lost a couple teeth. Like Abby, his fully inked upper body had taken dozens of tiny lacerations from the glass shards of the hotel windows, and he had even more bruises around his sides.

  “I think you bruised my ribs,” Abby finally said after a long minute of silence, holding her hand to her right side.

  “Well you definitely broke my nose,” Edmund replied. And then they were silent again for a moment.

  “I’m sorry I tried to kill ya,” Edmund said, looking straight ahead as he took another drink of whiskey. “You really pissed me off, and I know this may come as a surprise to you but I happen to have some anger management issues.”

  “You don’t say,” Abby replied.

  “Aye. Everything went white for a minute, and I…I guess I lost control. So I’m sorry.”

  “Mm.”

  “And I know I have a weird way of showing it, but…I love you, Abby.”

  Abby stopped herself from taking another drink after Edmund said this and looked at him in disbelief.

  “Not romantically. Certainly not sexually, I promise,” he said, looking into Abby’s eyes. “But I really do love you, lass. In…like a soulful way, if you take my meaning. I don’t understand why, but ever since I first laid eyes on you I felt some kind of connection to you. That’s why I took you into my tent all those years ago at the prison, I knew what those other fellas would have done to ya. Normally I wouldn’t care much, but for some reason I didn’t want that to happen to you. I felt…responsible for you. I don’t fuckin’ know, this is something that I don’t understand at all. Figured I’d tell ya since I’m dying now.”

  Abby took her time before replying. Both she and Edmund sipped from their drinks and listened as the sounds of the battle continued to rage on the streets below them. After another moment, she took a deep breath and said, “I don’t love you, Edmund. I don’t even like you. But…I don’t hate you. If it’s any consolation, I feel a weird and illogical connection to you, too. Maybe because you knew my dad, but I don’t know. I just feel it. That’s why I came here. I did want to stop this battle from happening, but I really was hoping to save your life.”

  Edmund chuckled and said, “Lotta good that did me. I mean, of all the ways to fuckin’ die, look at me. Bit in the arse by a zombie.”

  They both laughed quietly together. “But I’m not going out like this. I need you to kill me,” Edmund said. “If there’s anyone who is worthy to take the life of Edmund McGinn, it’s you.”

  “Edmund...” Abby started to say.

  “Oh aye, I know. Your stupid little vow of pacifism,” Edmund said in a sarcastic tone. “But seriously what’s up with that? What’s next, you become a nun and take a vow of celibacy too?”

  Abby chuckled and said, “Uh, hell no. Definitely not giving up that.”

  Edmund laughed and said, “That was quite a ‘no’! Sounds like you’ve got a special someone, eh? Who’s the lucky lad? Or lass. Whichever way you swing, I won’t judge.”

  Abby shook her head and replied, “Yes, it’s a ‘lad’. His name is Hiamovi.”

  “Hiamovi,” Edmund muttered as he thoughtfully nodded his head, as if he was tasting an exotic cuisine and was trying to discern the different spices used. “Well, whoever Hiamovi is, just make sure he deserves your love, aye? Because you’re a special girl, and he should treat you like you’re his to lose, like he needs to win your love anew every day or someone else will. Don’t settle for anything less than you deserve Abby, and you deserve a whole fuckin’ lot.”

  “So you’re giving me relationship advice now?” Abby asked with a smirk.

  “Hey, believe it or not, I had a girlfriend once!” Edmund replied. “She was a real sweet young girl. I met her back when I lived in Texas.”

  “Texas?” Abby asked. “How long ago was this?”

  “Shit,” Edmund muttered. “Twenty or twenty-five years ago, somewhere in that range. It’s hard to remember exactly. Don’t do drugs, kid. It really fucks your mind.”

  Edmund took another drink from his nearly empty bottle, but Abby had frozen with her bottle halfway up towards her mouth. Texas. Twenty or twenty-five years ago. No, it’s not possible.

  “Was it a…serious relationship?” Abby asked, her voice breaking slightly.

  “I don’t remember much about it, to be honest,” Edmund conceded. “It was serious, I guess. I do remember actually feeling something for her, but she must have realized how much of a piece of shit I am. Everything was fine one day, and the next I go to her place to find it empty. Poof, she vanished and left me nothing but a note that begged me not to try to find her. Never talked to her again, and now I can’t even remember her name.”

  Abby’s face paled. Her mouth went dry and a cold chill stabbed her up and down her spine. Edmund was apparently in the right place at the right time, and he had a girlfriend that suddenly left him and to whom he never again spoke. And then there was this whole weird connection they admitted to sharing...

  Edmund, Abby realized, could be her father.

  Should she bring it up? Would Edmund even know? Would he believe her? Was there even a point to asking? Abby had always wondered who her real father was and secretly dreamed of one day finding him. But if it was Edmund…

  “You okay?” Edmund asked, noting the change in Abby’s demeanor.

&
nbsp; “Yeah,” Abby said quietly, and then again, louder, she said, “Yeah. I’m good. Just…in a little pain.”

  “You and me both, lass,” Edmund replied.

  The only noise to be heard for a few moments was the sound of battle in the streets below as Abby debated with herself. Should she try to ask Edmund if he might be her father? Or is this something that she would be better off not bringing up?

  “Edmund,” she said slowly, and he turned towards her. “I think…I think you might be…my…”

  “What? Fuckin’ spit it out,” Edmund said.

  Abby hesitated for another moment, the ‘F-word’ word weighing heavily on her. She then sighed and said, “Friend. I think one day, when I remember this time of my life, I’ll think of you as a friend.”

  Edmund scoffed and said, “Come on, don’t fuckin’ patronize me.”

  Abby sighed again and took a long drink of rum. I don’t want to know, she decided. If there was a chance that a man as horrible as Edmund was her true father, then she did not want to know.

  “So, you gonna kill me or what? In my condition it’d be more of a mercy anyway,” Edmund said.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll…send you off,” Abby said slowly.

  “Very well,” said Edmund, and he finished the last of his whiskey. He set the bottle down on the bar and slowly rose from the stool, now feeling very stiff and sore from their fight. He grunted and said, “Christ All-mighty, you fucked me up. Last person to beat the shite out of me like that was your dad.”

  “My…dad,” Abby repeated under her breath as she also stood up slowly, wincing in discomfort. But she shook these thoughts away and asked, “How do you want it? Gunshot to the head?”