Pretty soon and he’d had enough. In one smooth motion, he grabbed Koba’s rig and made a break for the building. He made it under the girders and glanced back down the road.
Nothing. He breathed a sigh of relief. He headed for the stairs, then stopped. He took one more look.
One walker heading his way. Jolo cursed under his breath, headed down the stairs and made it back to the vault.
“What took so long?” said Mac.
“Walkers.”
“Did they see you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are they coming.”
“One.”
“If one is coming they all are coming.”
“Ok. You stay here and get this set up. You seem pretty handy for a cook.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“They’ll follow if I yell, right?”
“Yes, but not a good idea. They communicate with each other somehow. Almost like they are linked somehow.”
“Can you get this set up?”
Mac looked down at the jet and the random mish-mash of parts that Koba had assembled.
“It’s a newer model but I’ll manage.”
“Use the pipe and the other bits to hold the jet up to the lock mech in the center of the door.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna lead the walkers in the other direction. I can outrun those stumbling idiots on one leg.”
“Jolo, stay. You can’t beat them!” But it was too late. Jolo ran out into the street and was surprised to see the entire herd heading his way.
Vault
The walkers filled the street, spilling off into the buildings on either side, some getting caught behind abandoned automobiles or what remained of the buildings. Jolo jumped high into the air and was amazed to see how deep the throng of walkers went. He figured there were a few hundred at least. He stood there with his hands on his hips just watching. Some had noticed him and were starting to head in his direction, but the going was slow. Jolo needed to get the whole group past the admin building so Mac could set everything up with no interference.
“Hey! Come on this way!” Jolo yelled, waving his arms. The closest few were about in Colt range but he was not the least bit concerned for his safety. Though Mac’s repeated warnings were in the back of Jolo’s mind so he kept his distance. Pretty soon he had them heading his way. He kept yelling and dancing around like a fool. He jumped up occasionally to make sure the group was moving past the admin building. There were only a few that had strayed off into the admin building front courtyard, but Jolo was satisfied that most of them would make it past. Mac could handle any stragglers if he had to.
After about thirty minutes Jolo had moved the group of humans well beyond the admin building and he was starting to ponder his escape route. He had to double back without bringing the group with him. At the next intersection he turned to the right and lured them all down a side street.
They all started to make the turn. This was far too easy. He had considered taking the hoverbike, but why? The bike was too fast and that would just waste fuel cell power. Jolo sat cross-legged in the center of the street, calling out from time to time. Then he started singing snippets of Federation fight songs. He smiled when he sang the old songs. “Federation man ain’t afraid to die…” He started laughing at that. He shook his head and watched the mass of humans heading towards him. Poor bastards.
The closest one was now twenty meters or so away, a big man with graying hair that reminded him of Barth. He had grease marks on his coverall and wore the standard issue Fed boots with his pants tucked in the way Barth used to do. He was stumbling along like the others but suddenly stopped. They all stared right through everything. Their eyes were open but he wondered what they actually saw. But this big man, his head lolling around like the others, suddenly stopped, righted himself and then stared right at Jolo, his head suddenly still.
“Help me,” he said, his voice clear and perfect, cutting through the animal grunts of the group behind him. “Help me.” He said again. “Don’t let them take me. I am not one of them.”
Jolo jumped up. “Can you understand me?”
The man shook his head, yes. He stood there wobbling like he was going to fall, like he’d run out of energy.
This was a trick. It had to be.
The man reached out for Jolo and took a few more steps in his direction. Jolo fished out his last piece of Fed green and held it up.
“Thank you,” he said. His eyes focused on the green, the horde slowly closing in behind him. “I need that,” the man said, reaching for Jolo’s last bit of food.
“We’ve got to hurry,” said Jolo. “Can you run?”
“Wait,” the man said. He reached out for the food, but instead grabbed Jolo’s arm, his other hand gripping Jolo’s jacket. The man’s eyes suddenly rolled back into his head and his face went dull and expressionless, but his hands had a deathgrip on Jolo.
We meet again, Jolo Vargas, said a voice in Jolo’s head.
The big man started pulling Jolo back with amazing strength. Jolo grabbed the Colt and put it in the man’s face, the stumbling masses a few meters away. They were mumbling and yelling, all heading for Jolo as if guided by some unseen force. They moved in unison.
Jolo had the end of the Colt on the man’s forehead. Suddenly the man focused on Jolo again. “Don’t shoot,” he yelled. “She’s got me. I won’t hurt you.” He said all of this as he continued to pull Jolo back into the crowd.
Jolo didn’t want to kill a human. A man who’d been trapped like he’d been. A man who’d lost his mind along with the rest of them.
In the end, Jolo hit him on the head with the butt of the Colt and the man’s grasp slackened just enough. Jolo kicked at him, and he stumbled back into the crowd. By then Jolo could see into the eyes of the people: blank, vacant stares. Their mouths black. Their tongues black.
Jolo jumped back and turned to run, but there was a smaller group heading back towards him. Mac was right, Jolo thought. This smaller group came from somewhere else. Suddenly Jolo was surrounded.
He looked around in a panic but there was nowhere to go. The only escape was up so he jumped to the second floor of the nearest building. His foot touched down on the crossbeam and instantly gave way. He fell back down and found firm footing on a girder on the first floor. By then the crowd was under him in all directions. The building next to him was covered in black dust so he couldn’t judge if it would hold him.
He gently moved his weight up and down and dust fell down onto the walkers below him. But it seemed sturdy enough. He figured it was only going to get worse so he jumped again, this time high into the closest building. This time the beam held his weight and he ran across it. He ran to the edge of that girder then jumped again down on to the street a few meters out of the walkers’ reach.
He sprinted away, his heart pounding, and didn’t stop until he’d looped around the block and made it back to the admin building. A few stragglers followed him and as he raced down the stairs more joined.
“Mac!” he yelled. And the old man appeared with his rifle.
“Where are they?”
“Coming.”
Jolo ran back to the stairs and there was a big group coming down. Jolo knew he had to block them somehow, but there was nothing to put in their path. He reached for a dust covered chair and it fell apart in his hands. One of the walkers got near him and Jolo pushed him back as hard as he could.
“What are you doing?” yelled Mac.
“Nothing to block them,” said Jolo.
“Shoot ‘em!” he yelled. But Jolo couldn’t pull the trigger. These were people. The closest one was young, maybe not even twenty, wearing a suit. Mac rushed up and fired his gun. The boy fell on his face but didn’t bleed. “Get back before you get us killed.”
Mac stepped back and waited for more of the walkers to get near the bottom of the steps. There was only room for one or two at a time to enter.
Mac s
hot another one and it fell right in the entrance way.
“What are you doing?” yelled Jolo. “They are human! I spoke to one.”
“No, you didn’t.” Mac shot about ten more until there was a pile of bodies blocking the entrance. They could hear the mass of walkers on the other side murmuring and mumbling something that almost sounded like words.
Jolo sat down in the hallway in front of the police building. “That ain’t right.”
“Ain’t right?” yelled Mac. “Dying ain’t right. Being here ain’t right. They aren’t human any more, Jolo.”
“A man spoke to me.”
“No. The Queen got in your head. She controls them. They been long since dead, only their body didn’t get the message. Those I killed can move on. It’s a mercy to kill those poor bastards.”
Jolo was out of breath as he entered the vault room. Mac had the mini-jet set up and aimed right at the big lock section.
“Ain’t you some kind of big time pirate?” said Mac. “You ‘bout got us killed back there. If I hadn’t’ve been here what were you gonna do? Run? That don’t work to well.”
“We never killed anyone. Just the BG.”
“Well guess what? That’s the frakkin’ BG right out there wantin’ to tear your legs off.”
Mac stood there shaking his head. Finally, he took a deep breath and started to calm down. “When we fire this thing up they’re gonna hear and they’re gonna want in,” said Mac. “You stay here and get this going. I’ll be outside in case I have to add to the barricade.”
Jolo didn’t argue.
Thirty minutes later Jolo had the mini-jet melting the main lock assembly in the middle of the vault door. There were giant hinges on the left side but Mac was insistent they not destroy the door, just break in. The mini-jet would burn at 4000c plus, and if given enough time, could cut through alacyte, so thirty centimeters of reinforced steel door didn’t stand a chance. The only problem was keeping the thing in place. Twice it started to pull back and almost flew out of Koba’s rig, but Jolo shut it down and reinforced it with a length of chain he found laying on the floor. There was an old sledge hammer and a broken chisel on the ground half buried in dust. The only damage they did was to leave a few scratch marks on the lower hinge.
The other issue was heat. Jolo had to adjust the burn rate quickly, then jump back. Ten minutes of mini-jet and the center of the big door was cherry red. The handle was gone and the long bars that extended the length of the door would be free soon.
A few minutes later Jolo ran to the end of the door and knocked the top bar with the sledge. It didn’t budge. He hit it three more times and on the third strike it moved about a centimeter. He stepped back for a moment to escape the heat. Then he turned off the jet and went back to work. The top bar slid out of the way a few minutes later. Jolo was sweaty and breathing hard, but he started immediately on the lower one.
He’d heard a few rifle shots coming from down the hall, but suddenly there were more, closer. He looked up and there was Mac firing down the hall, then turning and firing in the other direction. Jolo concentrated on the lower bar, but it wasn’t moving.
“You in yet?” yelled Mac.
“No!” Jolo yelled over the sound of Mac’s rifle. Jolo ran out to the entrance and took a peek. “Oh shite!” he yelled. Mac had a pistol in one hand and the rifle in the other. “Give me a few more minutes,” said Jolo.
“We ain’t got that much time!”
Jolo ran back to the jet and fired it up, aiming it a little lower than before. He hit the bar again and it moved. He kept banging until it fell through the other side. His clothes were scorched and his hands were burning. He grabbed the back of Koba’s rig and swung the jet around and started pushing it towards the entrance. There were walkers so close that Mac was beating them with his rifle. One got ahold of Mac’s shirt and he yelled out.
A woman in a blue dress with no shoes on had him by his other arm. She bit down on his hand and blood sprayed out. This sent the horde into a frenzy. Jolo pulled out the Colt and killed her, a big man who first grabbed Mac, and everyone within a few meters of him. Mac stumbled and Jolo pulled him with all his power and the old man slid back into the vault room near the door. His rifle was in the hallway, now swallowed up by walkers. Jolo aimed the jet at the crowd. He instantly smelled burning flesh. He kicked and pushed and fired the Colt, the horde clawing and screaming at him. One woman reached for his leg and put her head right in the path of the jet and Jolo couldn’t look. He scrambled backwards, getting a few meters distance.
In the vault room he put the sledge hammer into a vertical brace and pulled back. The door cracked open and he and Mac scrambled inside. They both pulled the door shut and fell onto the floor in total darkness.
Jolo could hear the walkers bumping up against the door. Some moaning. Some crying out. Jolo listened to them as if they might say something intelligible, but there were no words, just pounding and voices. He laid back on the cold floor of the vault catching his breath. “There gonna get in.”
“Nope. Don’t think so. They’ll slam against the door until they’re bloody but ain’t got brains to pull back. That’s why we didn’t melt the hinges off.”
Jolo sat up, the warm glow of hope in his heart. Sure enough, the pounding continued but not one got in. Jolo laid back down on the floor and smiled. His plan was still in tact. “Fire up one of your ancient Fed burners and let’s see if we got some guns.”
Guns, Part 2
Jolo and Mac set up four of the little burners for light and were surprised how far back the vault went. Near the door were rows of safety deposit boxes, but beyond that the walls were lined with assault weapons. Jolo grabbed the first one off the wall excitedly but when he took a good look at it he realized it was an early energy weapon. It was worthless against the Jaylens and worthless against anything else because the fuel cells had long since died.
Mac grabbed one that still showed a charge. “I wouldn’t trust this old piece of shite. These are old Earth tech. The fuel cells ain’t like what we are used to.”
“They gotta have some older stuff. This was a small municipal police force, not some elite government force.” In the very back of the room were several large wooden boxes sitting atop a bunch of old oil barrels. They were too heavy to put on the floor so Jolo jumped up and started trying to open them up with the sledge.
Mac looked back at the door. “Probably not a good idea to make noise.” The groans and the pounding on the door intensified.
“One more whack!” said Jolo as part of the wooden top came off nearly hitting the old man.
“Well?” said Mac.
Jolo brushed away some dust and reached inside. He felt cold metal. It was round, but too large to be a hand-held weapon. There were other metal parts inside, but no guns. He proceeded to knock the tops off the other boxes, all the way to the back of the vault. More large pipe-like pieces but no weapons.
In the end Jolo had broken off the top of every box in the back and he stood staring down at the mess of splintered wood on the floor. No guns. He hit the wall with the sledge in anger and gray dust kicked up and little bits of concrete hit him in the face. He hit it again and again. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Get the guns and go back home. That was the plan.
“Stop that you fool,” said Mac, who’d been on the other end of the room near the door. Jolo noticed his mouth was still moving after he stopped talking. He was chewing on something. Suddenly Jolo felt a dark, painful hunger in his belly. When was the last time he’d eaten? He thought back to the hotel and the old woman with the plate of food. He was a fool and should have eaten it, he thought.
“What you eatin?” he said.
“Nothin, and mind your own business. You got your rations. Eat some of that green nonsense you Fed boys like so much.”
“I gave my last bit away.”
“Gave it away! To whom?”
Jolo jumped down onto the floor and sat down. He motioned with the sledge for Mac
to do the same. “I come too far for it to end now.” He banged the sledge on the floor again.
“Ain’t over. Who’d you give your food to?”
“A walker. He talked to me.”
“Fool.” Mac put another piece of something in his mouth and started chewing again and Jolo reached out and grabbed his hand with all of his strength. The old man yelled out in pain, the bite wound from earlier wrapped with cloth and still bleeding. But Jolo squeezed until a piece of dried meat fell onto the floor. Jolo let go of his hand and the old man scampered back rubbing his wrist. Jolo held up the thin sliver of meat and brought it up to his mouth. Mac yelled, “No!”
Jolo had it up near his lips but hesitated. His last shred of self-control holding him back.
“Please, don’t. You don’t need to go where I’ve been. Where I live. There is still hope for you,” said Mac.
“What the hell are you going on about?” Jolo eyed the meat and licked his lips.
“Here. I know it ain’t great but it’ll keep you going.” The old man held out a chunk of the black and Jolo shook his head.
And then it hit him.
“You know I didn’t see no dogs in this shitehole of a city. Ain’t seen a dog since we crashed down. You lying about everything. A cook don’t say to whom? Higher ups talk like that. You got a stash somewhere.”
“No stash.” Mac ran his fingers through his white hair, his eyes on the floor.
“If there ain’t no stash and this ain’t dog, then what is it?” Jolo put the meat up to Mac’s face. “What is this shite? Huh!?” Jolo threw it at Mac and wiped his hands on his dirty pants. “Please tell me it ain’t what I think it is. Please tell me you ain’t doin’ that old man.” Jolo pulled out the Colt. “I’ll take you out of your misery right here and now. Please tell me you ain’t. That’s against our human nature. We don’t do that. That’s not right!”
The Cold Dead Earth (The Jolo Vargas Space Opera Series Book 3) Page 16