Millions more were hiding, waiting to see what was going to happen, perhaps waiting to see if someone would rescue them. But who would? They had already passed scores of abandoned police cars and fire trucks of all sizes. And the army was notorious for moving slowly, at least at the beginning of any emergency, and from what Bryce could tell, every minute counted.
The city had been turned on its head in a matter of hours. In a week there’d be nothing left but ruins. It meant Bryce would have to protect himself.
Three times he stopped to fight zombies. By necessity these were short battles. When the dead got too close, he would climb up on a car and, with his advantage in height and reach, he clubbed them to the ground. Then he would run on before the main horde caught up.
The third time there were just too many zombies all at once. He barely got onto the car before a hand ripped down his back. A high, girlish scream tore from his throat as he teetered on the verge of falling back into the grasping diseased hands of the zombies. He would’ve fallen; however, his gown ripped and he tumbled forward off the car.
His left arm took the brunt. Shrieking pain shot from his elbow and up his arm bone.
“Shiiit!” he cried. His first reaction was to curl into a ball and make whimpering noises until the pain became bearable, but there was no time. Zombies were swarming over the line of cars to get at him. With a hiss, he forced himself to his feet and began to run again. With his arm paralyzed from the pain, he couldn’t stop and fight—and the dead were getting closer.
“Griff! Agent uh, Meyers?”
The agent turned just as he was about to jog down into a subway station. Bryce was lagging fifty yards back and was just ahead of seven or eight of the faster zombies. Maddy was ten feet in front of him, running slowly, meandering back and forth in her exhaustion.
“Get down there,” Griff ordered Victoria, pushing her towards the stairs. “If a train comes, keep it from leaving the station. Tell them there are FBI agents on route. Go.”
Victoria looked down the steps and pulled back; the lights along the wall gave off a yellow hue that made everything seem, not just odd, but evil. Some station lights were like this, their glass coverings were old and covered in layers of pollution, and normally, she would’ve swallowed her fear and trotted on down the stairs, knowing there would be people down there and that everything was the way it was supposed to be, despite the odd light.
This wasn’t a normal night. She took one look down and balked. There weren’t going to be people down there, only monsters, and nothing was the way it was supposed to be.
There has to be a better alternative, she thought. Desperately, she looked around, hoping to see a free traffic lane and a taxi, or a police precinct brimming with officers.
Griff shoved her from behind. “Go! Tessa, go with your mom.” He shoved the girl, too. There was no time for fear. The moment they were headed down, he settled in behind a car, his forearms resting on the hood, his Glock aimed at the shadow creatures just behind Bryce. He couldn’t look at the mass of them further back; the street was filled with crazed creatures that were hell bent on tearing him limb from limb. He had to force his mind to ignore the screams and moans and the sickening laughter.
His entire focus had to be on his sights, his target and his breathing. He had to aim low. A head shot from this distance was chancy and with so few rounds left, he couldn’t justify taking the shot. Slowly, he squeezed the trigger until the gun went off: BANG! It seemed extra loud and the echoes raced around the buildings and ghosted up the street.
The zombie behind Bryce didn’t feel the bullet shatter its femur. It simply couldn’t run anymore and it fell. The one behind it tripped over the first and fell in a tangle of arms and legs. This set off a chain reaction among the leading pack of creatures and five of them sprawled over the sidewalk, giving Bryce an extra ten second lead. It was all Griff could afford. He waved Maddy on, hissing for her to hurry. He then turned and went down the stairs, taking them three at a time.
The 23rd Street station was no frills compared to some. To the left was a bank of machines where MTA cards could be filled. Beyond that were the turnstiles, then another short set of stairs that ran down to the platform. Victoria and Tessa were on those stairs, hunched and peeking around the corner.
Griff vaulted the turnstiles and went down the stairs. “What do we have?”
“More zombies,” whispered Victoria. Griff’s face fell. He pictured another horde, but when he looked around the corner, he saw that there were only three of them. Two on the tracks closest to their platform and another across the way, standing on the northbound platform staring at the tile walls with blank eyes.
There were also bodies splayed out in sickening poses and surrounded by drying blood. In the ugly yellow light, they didn’t look real.
Griff went to the edge of the platform and looked both ways. “You think the train’s still running?”
Before she could answer, Maddy plowed her girth into the turnstile, her mouth hanging open, her hot breath huffing in and out. She couldn’t speak and she definitely couldn’t get over the turnstile. She could only lean on it, sweat dripping from her chin. Bryce came down a second later. He stumbled right up to her, unceremoniously planted both hands on her backside, and began to push.
Even with his help, she couldn’t make it over. Griff had to hurry back up the stairs and drag her across in the least graceful manner possible.
“Thanks,” she gasped, drawing her blanket around her shoulders.
Bryce leaned against the turnstiles much as Maddy had a second before. His legs were shaking and his stomach was growling. He was hungry again, which didn’t make any sense. Behind him, zombies began tumbling down the stairs, their heads cracking against the cement. More bodies fell on these in an avalanche of horror. Hundreds of them spilled down the stairs. So many that they blotted out the ugly yellow light.
“Fuck,” Bryce muttered before he heaved himself over the turnstile. He teetered down the final flight of stairs and saw the empty station. After the frantic commotion above, it seemed abandoned, as though a train hadn’t passed that way for years. “What are we going to do?” The turnstiles wouldn’t stop so many zombies for long and it appeared like their only choice was to run endlessly onward.
For Maddy, “endlessly” meant only another few hundred yards at the most. Bryce had maybe twice that left in him.
Victoria glared at Bryce. The heat of it was a force. “You can start by giving me your gun.” She turned her glare towards Griff. “He almost shot Tessa! He’s a menace and I have a right to protect myself, too.”
“I don’t know what rights any of us have anymore,” Griff said, checking his magazine. He started to thumb bullets from his spare to fill his main. “If you want, you can take off. No one’s stopping you.” He jutted his chin down the length of the platform. There was an exit at the far end of it and no zombies between her and it.
“No. I don’t think so.” She eyed Maddy, who was too tired to shift the remnants of her gown beneath the blanket. It was a coldly calculating look that Bryce read as: I don’t have to outrun the zombies. I just have to outrun her. Victoria went on, “But we need a plan one way or the other.”
Griff walked out onto the platform. The two closer zombies immediately started to shamble towards him, while the third was still enthralled by the tiles across the station. Squatting, he looked along the tracks as they disappeared into the darkness. There was a bit of a walkway three feet above the tracks; it was black with tar, grease and muck. There was also trash strewn across it, as well as across the tracks.
“We’ll head down there,” he said.
Tessa went green at the idea. Victoria’s lips turned downward like a grouper’s. “And just hope a train doesn’t come by and crush us?”
“Yup.”
Victoria saw Griff was implacable, so she looked back and forth from Bryce to Maddy. Both wore expressions that suggested that being hit by a train wasn’t a bad plan at the m
oment. “What about them?” She meant the zombies that were even then stumbling towards the turnstiles. When they were crowded in a mass like that, they took on a grey sameness. They were no longer individuals; they were just zombies. “They aren’t going to be slowed by some stupid train tracks.”
“Yeah they will,” Maddy replied. She gestured to the two zombies on the tracks that were scrabbling uselessly, trying to climb up to eat them. “Can you kill them for us, Bryce?”
He was surprised she had asked him and not Griff. The FBI agent was the superior physical being in all regards. But he didn’t have the pipe. Bryce went to the edge, hefted the pipe and slammed it down on the first. Tank!
Tessa turned away and Victoria’s lips pulled down even further; they were practically at her jawline now.
Bryce killed the next one with equal ease. He turned exhausted eyes to Maddy. She plopped down on the platform, swung around and wiggled until her feet touched the closest railing on the tracks. “Come on. This is the only way to keep them from coming after us.”
“You want us to go down there?” Victoria was close to running away. It was the smart move. The zombies would go after the nerd and the cow, while she and Tessa ran to the end of the platform. They could make it—but they would be all alone. Being alone was bad. She hesitated, not wanting to be the next down.
“Is this the third rail we have to watch out for?” Maddy asked, pointing at a separate and thicker line of metal that ran parallel to the two normal tracks.
Bryce grinned and climbed down next to her. “I get it. Smart. Come on guys. Hop down. It’ll be okay.”
Griff actually chuckled. “I hope this works.” He turned and put his hands out for Tessa.
“What works,” the little girl asked. “What are we going to do?”
Maddy answered. “We’re going to fry some zombies.”
Chapter 14
As the five of them began to climb, slowly and with great care, over that dreaded third rail, the zombies hit the turnstiles. Some of them seemed to remember how to go through and pressed their hips against the metal poles. Other than the blood, the torn clothes, and the evil black eyes, they looked like they were hurrying off to work. However, none remembered the cards that had to be passed through a slot to activate the turnstiles.
One or two climbed over without a problem. The rest hesitated just long enough to be crashed into from behind and then trampled underfoot. A pile up ensued, but not a large one, and the turnstiles acted like nothing more than a large speed bump. In seconds, the dead were pouring over them.
They rushed at the five, dropping down onto the tracks without regard to safety. Legs were broken and skulls cracked. Those that fell first became a cushion for the hundreds that came next. They raced at Griff and Bryce who were trying their best to lift Maddy over the third rail. Had it just been a normal piece of metal, she could’ve gotten over it without a problem. But with 1500 volts coursing down its length, it was death to touch.
With a steadying hand and a light boost, both Victoria and Tessa had gotten over easily enough. They were light and athletic. Maddy was neither.
Victoria saw the speed of some of the zombies and cried, “Throw her over! Just throw her!”
Two-hundred pound women did not come with hand-holds and throwing one was out of the question. Griff did the next best thing. He cupped his hands and bent his knees. “Put your foot here. Bryce, get her from behind. One, two…three!” He heaved upward while Bryce, with a hand on each soft cheek, shoved as hard as he could.
With their adrenaline pumping, she felt lighter than expected and together they sent her flying. She landed hard and groaned in pain. There was no time to ask if she was alright. Griff cupped his hands again and nodded at Bryce. Bryce hadn’t needed a boost like this since he was six and he hesitated as if it was part of an Olympic event.
“Come on!” Griff shouted.
“One second.” He grabbed the pipe he had dropped and tossed it over to the next set of tracks. Then he made the mistake of looking back at the zombies racing towards him. There were so many. And they were so close. “God,” he whispered, before he practically jumped on Griff. Thankfully, Griff caught his foot in his cupped hands and pushed him up and over.
It was Griff’s turn to come across; however, there wasn’t any time. He ran from the grey mob. Beneath his once shiny shoes, were imperfectly placed wooden railroad ties. Some had six-inch gaps, some had eight. Some were raised half an inch, some were raised an inch and a half. To make the run even more challenging, the tracks were also strewn with trash; old yellowing newspapers, dented cans and broken bottles. There were even soggy diapers flung here and there.
One misstep and he would be done.
The dead had to overcome the same obstacles, and they were less vigilant as well as less agile. Many fell and were trampled. Some fell into the third rail and seemed to get stuck to it as they twitched and jerked.
The fastest wouldn’t fall. A hideous, faceless woman dogged him for half the length of the station. It didn’t matter that she was wearing a single high-heeled shoe, she still kept up…and even began to catch up! The long night was finally wearing on Griff. He was tiring and his legs were beginning to feel like lead. He considered turning and ripping off some 9mm rounds, only he knew that if a single bullet failed to hit perfectly, she would be on him in a second.
And there were others behind her, desperate to get at him, desperate for blood or flesh or simply to kill. Griff didn’t know what made them so insane, and just then, with the woman’s foul breath on the back of his neck, he didn’t care.
He flung himself in a desperate dive through the metal columns that ran along the inner edge of the tracks. Unlike Bryce, Griff was a true athlete and he shot through without hitting one. He landed with a thud, his shin whacking hard on the closer rail. Ignoring the pain, he jumped up, ready to run again. There was no need.
The faceless woman was jitterbugging on the rail, her limbs contorted, her teeth clamped down on her tongue so hard that she was spitting blood. She was just one of many. Griff’s race down the tracks had thinned out the horde so that when they hit the third rail, there weren’t enough of them in one spot to create an insulated barrier. They tried to cross, and they cooked. Some fried in their own fat, popping and sizzling. Some were flame-broiled as their clothes caught on fire. Some slow-roasted. The stench of burning hair was sickening.
Maddy gagged, while Tessa hid her face in her coat. Griff was gasping in the vile air as he came back to the little group. He didn’t need to tell them to get moving. They stumbled south to get out of the foul haze. Bryce was the only one not effected by the odor. He kept it to himself, but the smell had only made him hungrier—there were implications to this that he didn’t want to think about.
They popped into his head, regardless. How could he find the putrid stench of roasted human flesh appealing? Was he turning into one of them? Was this how it started?
Bryce stumbled after the group to the end of the station. They stopped where the real light ended. Ahead of them was the tunnel; a great black mouth ready to swallow them. Every fifty yards down it’s length was a dim bulb that shed a tired yellow light that only truly illuminated a little half circle of wall. The tracks were dark and in that dark things scurried and squeaked.
Involuntarily, Bryce curled his toes inward which saved them from being crushed as Victoria spun and stepped right up to him. “Give me the gun.” He hesitated for half a second and she poked him in the chest. “Look, I’m sick of this shit. You aren’t using it anyways and I have a child to protect. And you have that bar.”
Realizing she was being harsh, she tried to smile as she gestured at the pole, but one end of it was tacky with black blood, and the smile sagged back into the grouper look. “Please, for Tessa.”
Griff opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. Now that things had calmed down somewhat, he realized he didn’t want to be the man who denied a mother the ability to protect her child. He would
let Bryce be that man.
But Bryce wasn’t that man, at least not right at that moment. He knew he was something of a coward. Bravery was for the big and the strong, not for the scrawny, and yet, he felt he had handled himself fairly well so far.
“Here.” He reached into the gown pocket and took out the gun. Naturally, his finger fell on the trigger.
“Hold on,” Griff said, stepping forward. Gingerly, he took the gun from Bryce. “Let’s get some ground rules in place before someone gets killed. Number one: keep your finger off the trigger until you’re ready to fire. Number two: keep the gun pointed down until you have a target. Number three: wait until they’re right on top of you to shoot. This is it for the bullets until we get downtown.”
Griff then spent a minute showing them how to load their weapons, how to aim, and how to fire.
While he did, Bryce sat on one of the rails, picking glass from his feet. He was surprised they didn’t hurt more.
Tessa watched him. She was remarkably composed for a kid standing on the edge of a dark tunnel filled with rats. Her hands were stuffed deep into her pockets. “Aren’t you cold? All you got on is that dress.”
Bryce looked down at himself and realized that the hospital gown, when worn outside a hospital, was very feminine. “Cold?” He hadn’t given it much thought, but it couldn’t be more than forty-five degrees out. He touched his cheek and found it cool, but not cold. “No. I guess all the running around has kept me warm. Look at Maddy, she still’s sweating.” She looked like a glazed ham, but he wasn’t about to mention it.
Griff was cold. He had his hands tucked up under his armpits and he was hunched in on himself as Victoria worked the slide of the pistol back and forth. He gave Bryce’s feet a quick glance. “You gonna be okay?”
Heroes of the Undead | Book 1 | The Culling Page 11
