by Roach, Aaron
Kat’s guts roiled. They needed to get off the street before her fear became paralyzing.
Come on, Kat. You can do this.
She looked down at the little girl and gently grabbed her hand. They hadn’t had time to stop or exchange courtesies since they had rescued each other - she didn’t even know the kid’s name - but the girl had stuck with her and now Kat felt a responsibility towards her.
“Okay kid, listen, I live just up that way, okay?” she said, pointing. “And once we get inside my apartment, we’ll be fine. We can wait for the police, maybe try and call your parents or something. All we have to do is just cross this road, okay?”
For a moment, the girl stared up at Kat, her face revealing nothing before she turned her head for a quick peek around the corner. When the girl brought her face back around, she simply whispered, “Okay, follow me,” before letting go of her hand and stepping out into the open of the street.
Wait – no!
But the girl was already gone. She ran soundlessly on her toes towards a newsstand, where she pressed herself up against the structure and waved at Kat, urging her to follow.
This kid is going to get me killed!
Kat looked at the creatures and saw that a few had turned their dark gazes towards the newsstand, staring like owls.
There, the girl mouthed at her to hurry up.
Kat inhaled deeply and dashed as quietly as she could towards her young companion. As she ran, she threw a quick glance over her shoulder and almost stumbled at the sight of several more empty faces following her path, though none moved to give chase.
“Don’t do that again!” Kat hissed when she reached the kid, “Or at least give me some warning next time!”
The girl nodded but said nothing. Instead, she peered around the stand’s corner, out towards the middle of the road.
“There’s people in that car,” she whispered.
Kat looked at where the girl indicated, at a red SUV occupied by a family. A mother was staring back at them through the passenger-side window, her eyes pleading.
“We need to help them,” the girl continued.
Kat glanced at the building behind the SUV where, from the second and third floor window ledges, several of the creatures squatted like bone gargoyles, observing.
“That,” whispered Kat, pointing up at the creatures with her nose, “looks like a trap.”
“But…”
“We can’t do anything for them, at least not right now. Let’s get going, okay? We’re almost back at my place.”
Again, the girl turned those questioning, almost accusing eyes onto Kat.
“Hey,” Kat whispered, in what she hoped was a reassuring voice, “They’ll be alright. When we get to my place, we can call the cops and they’ll rescue them in no time.”
The girl wrinkled her nose at the thought of leaving the people behind. But after looking back at the SUV and at the creatures that sat waiting above it, she seemed to come to terms with the situation.
“I’m Sophia,” she whispered suddenly, moving the conversation away from the desperate family and holding out her hand.
“Nice to meet you, Sophia. My name’s Kathleen. Or Kat, if you want.”
Sophia nodded, unsure of what to say next. She looked up at the faceless grimaces of the dead aimed at the roof of the vehicle, appearing very much like vultures waiting for an animal to die.
“Okay, Kat. Let’s go,” said Sophia.
They moved quietly away from the newsstand, skirting far around the SUV, and trying very hard not to make eye contact with the pleading people within. They crossed the street and stepped up onto the curb.
“Almost there,” said Kat.
They ran to the stoop of Kat’s apartment building, ascending the steps quickly and stopping at the locked door. In one quick motion, Kat swung her shoulder, sliding her backpack down her arm and into her hand. She unzipped a side pocket and yanked out a set of keys.
A sudden loud thud from behind whirled them around.
One of the skeletons had leapt from a nearby fire escape, landing into a squat atop the roof of the SUV and partially caving it in. Muted cries could be heard from the occupants inside, but the creature ignored them. Instead, it faced Sophia and Kat, its head tilted like a blind gorilla. The few fibers where its nose should have been twitched as it sniffed the air.
And then the bodies littering the ground began to move.
A spasming kick of a leg. A knuckle-cracking fist. A moan.
All down the road, as far as the eye could see, corpses arose like felled dominos in reverse.
“Holy sh-” Kat muttered.
“Yeah,” said Sophia.
Kat selected a key, jammed it into the door, and yanked it open.
Behind them, they heard several more thuds as more skeletons dropped from their perches to land among the rising dead.
“What are they –”
Before Sophia could finish, the skeletons charged.
“Third floor, go, go!” screamed Kat, shoving Sophia ahead of her into the building and slamming the door closed.
Together they flew up the stairs, spiraling upwards as fast as they possibly could. Behind them, they heard the twisting of metal and clatter of bones as their pursuers broke through the door and flooded into the building.
Once on the third floor, Kat took the lead. They ran, ignoring the shaking and banging that came from inside some of the neighbors’ apartments, until Kat stopped at a door.
“317, here, here!” Again, Kat selected a key and shoved it into the keyhole. They stumbled into the apartment and slammed the door shut behind them. On the other side, the monsters came screaming into the hallway, scampering up the walls and stairs.
Kat rushed to her kitchen and reached into the cabinet beneath the sink to pull out a bottle of bleach. Without saying anything, she came back and splashed its contents all over the entranceway, filling the air with the stench of ammonia. She dumped what little remained at the bottom of the jug on herself and Sophia. On the other side, they could hear the frustrated screeching of predators in search of prey. A few moments later, the screeching was joined by a chorus of low moans, and the floor creaked under the weight of so many bodies in the hall.
“Shhhhh…” muttered Kat, unsure if it was directed at the girl or herself. For several moments, they stood there watching, praying for the door to stay still.
“Why did you do that? With the bleach?” Sophia whispered softly at her side.
“It looked like those bone things could smell us. I wanted to cover our scent,” Kat whispered back.
“Good idea.”
“Thanks.”
Eventually, the screeching of the skeleton things died away, leaving only the hungry moans of the dead out in the corridor and an occasional thump of a body against a wall.
Sophia took her eyes off the door and looked up at Kat, and for the first time took in her appearance. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but the older girl just looked…cool. She had a nose ring and the side of her head was shaved, leaving her hair looking very much like a horse’s mane. She had tears in her jeans at the knees and her black T-shirt read “Public Enemy No.1” across its front.
Sophia hoped they could be friends, despite the age difference.
“Hey, Kat?” she said, “those people, out in the car…we should call the police, like you said”.
“Yes, of course,” said Kat, though she thought it likely that they were in just as much danger trapped in her apartment as those in the SUV.
Kat turned and made her way towards the living room, passing the empty bedrooms of her roommates. She shuddered at the idea of her roommates coming home to the hallway of dead things outside.
I hope they’re somewhere safe.
In the living room, Kat picked up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
Busy.
“Any luck?” whispered Sophia, close behind.
Kat shook her head, “Sorry kid. The line’s busy.”
Sophia lowered her eyes but nodded her understanding. She turned and climbed onto the couch to peek through the curtain at the road below. She could still see the red SUV, and the mom and dad in the front seats. Thankfully, she couldn’t see to the backseat where she knew the children sat. Through their windshield, she watched as the parents talked with each other. Every now and then, the dad would point up through the ceiling, gesturing fearfully. Sophia’s eyes followed the pointed finger and saw that many of the bone creatures had resumed their places, perched on the building façade above the vehicle.
“What do you think they’re waiting for?” she asked softly.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to know.”
They stood there for a long time, peering through the curtain while trying to remain unnoticed by the monsters outside. Beyond the city, the low red orb of the setting sun dipped behind a building, a fiery Cyclops playing peek-a-boo across the sky.
-19-
Don swerved, slamming the tail of the stolen sedan into a parked taxi. He hit the accelerator, squealing the tires, and felt the vehicle jump forward into the mass of milling bodies. The day was quickly fading into night, and his headlights lit up dead sleepwalker faces moments before they were run down, thumping beneath the tires. Through the mirror, he watched as the bodies rose to their feet to stumble after him. He caught sight of his smiling reflection.
This is too much fun.
Fun, as long as he kept moving.
Earlier, Don had come up behind a long line of traffic that snaked its way through the city; and he had watched with a trickle of amusement as ghouls slowly swarmed one of those European sport cars, the type of car only the rich could afford, and pulled the driver kicking and screaming through his window. He stuck around long enough to watch them enjoy their meal before turning around and heading in the opposite direction.
Just keep moving.
Don lurched the steering wheel to the right and drove into another walking ghoul. As it tumbled up and over the car, he wondered what it, and all the others like it, were. They were dead or something akin to it, as with the blood eagles, but they didn’t seem anywhere near as intelligent. In fact, they didn’t seem smart at all, just mindless and hungry. He didn’t know if they would react to him like the blood eagles had done, and he didn’t want to find out.
They are slow and easy enough to avoid, he thought to himself as he ran two more down, feeling them thump against the bumper. Just don’t get caught while the bastards are swarming.
Almost as the thought came to mind, Don saw brake lights ahead staring at him like red cat eyes in the dark. He swerved to bring the car up onto the curb, to go around, but his path was barred by an overturned mail truck. Cursing, he slowed the vehicle and joined the traffic - just where he didn’t want to be.
Goddammit!
He needed to turn around.
Don looked to his side in preparation to do a three-point turn and saw an alley there, a dead end where a dumpster pressed up against a chain-link fence. He turned the wheel and shifted the car into reverse, and swore again as a thump, this time unexpected, came from under the back bumper. A glance in the mirror had him spitting a final curse.
The ghouls Don had driven through over the past few blocks were herding into a shambling mass and slowly closing the distance. Ahead, drivers blared their horns, unaware of the dead army gathering behind.
And Don was right between them.
A howl wrenched his attention upwards in time to see dozens of blood eagles drop from the sky, throwing themselves off the roofs of the surrounding buildings and landing amid the cars and the dead. Like the ones back at the museum, these blood eagles had made themselves sharp. Some had jagged spikes where their forearms should have been. Others, like the Burome-thing from earlier, had broken ribs, causing their torsos to reach out like talons. All had eyeless, skinless faces that marked them for what they were.
They began tearing into the vehicles, shrieking and clicking like tortured, angry dolphins.
All down the line of traffic, car doors opened as frantic drivers and passengers tried to flee. They sprinted as quickly as they could, and in their haste, some fell and were trampled underfoot. Others were tackled down onto the pavement as more blood eagles flung themselves from above onto their desperate prey.
Don watched as the riot of panicked humanity made its way down the lane of cars towards him, still unaware of the approaching army of ghouls coming up from behind. He pushed the gear into drive and slammed the car into the oncoming mob, taking out an old man who had placed himself protectively in front of his terrified family. He felt the car groan as it turned the old man’s body into a speedbump.
“Move! Get the fuck out of my way!” Don shouted while waving his hands; but the mass of people, living and dead, was too dense. The road would soon become a mosh pit of gnashing teeth. With nowhere to go, he shifted again and reversed the car into the alleyway until he heard the crunch of metal-on-metal as the rear of the vehicle rammed into the dumpster. He pressed his foot down on the gas, sandwiching the dumpster against the chain-link fence behind, trying to force his way through. It groaned, bending and straining, but the fence held fast. He was stuck.
Ahead, framed by the buildings on either side of him, Don watched as the flank of ghouls swarmed into the wall of fleeing people. A police officer fired blindly into the oncoming mass until she was dragged to the ground. Don watched as a husband pulled a corpse off his wife’s face, only for the thing to turn around and rip its teeth into the man’s neck. A few others tried to put up a fight, swinging tire irons and baseball bats, or firing guns even as they were surrounded and yanked to the ground in a struggle of bones and teeth.
In the alley, Don moved to open his door, but it stopped with a thud after a few inches. He saw that the space between the two buildings was too narrow, and he was unable to open any of the car doors fully enough to escape. Trapped, he could only watch in horror as the violence spilled into the alley, an angry tangle of limbs that crawled its way towards him. A few survivors managed to pull themselves out of the horde, their faces scratched and clothes torn as if they’d just run through a thicket of briers. They ran up onto car’s hood and escaped over the fence behind, and Don could only whine jealously as he listened to the footsteps run across the roof.
Then suddenly, the dead were there, their reaching hands smacking against the sedan, sounding like hail. They smeared bloody palm prints against the hood and windshield and stared at him through the glass with dead, glazed-over eyes.
Don did the only thing he could think to do. He crawled into the backseat and yanked down the rear-seat pass through, revealing the trunk space behind. He crawled into the darkness there and pulled the seat closed behind him. Soon after, he heard the glass of the windshield shattering inward and the moaning of the dead filled the car like a rising typhoon.
Trapped in the darkness, Don shifted his body so he could palm the underside of the trunk lid; feeling for the emergency-release latch he hoped would be hidden there. Years ago, he’d read a memoir written by a kidnap victim, and for some reason, that knowledge had stuck with him. A few heartbeats later, his fingers found what they were looking for. With a prayer, he clicked it open, cracking the hatch slightly ajar. The air from outside flooded into the small space, assaulting him with increased noise and the scent of decay.
This was the moment he was dreading.
Slowly, Don pushed his right arm out through the partially opened trunk. He tilted it upwards at an odd angle, reaching blindly. He was hyper aware of the breeze on his exposed skin, with each gust causing him to flinch as he imagined chomping teeth. When he felt his hand slide under the thick plastic lip of the dumpster lid behind, he exhaled in muzzled relief. Slowly, he hoisted himself through the trunk and dropped into the dumpster.
Behind him, the besieging dead continued to clap their hands against the car, scratching and yearning and unaware of his escape.
-20-
The creature that
had once been Burome bent low and grunted at the ground. Catching a faint odor, it tilted its head back and clicked a rattle of teeth on teeth. As the sound transmitted outward, it could ‘see’ the various surrounding structures, the angles and bends of its dark world. It spat, tasting the scent, and took off at a sprint towards the smell’s origin.
Others.
As it ran, it clicked its teeth again, sending out waves of sound that illuminated its path; the scent filling in the gaps of its vision.
Its hunt brought it to a horde of seedlings, hundreds of them packed shoulder to shoulder. They bumped into each other, moaning and restless, shuffling over the street and sidewalks. As it came close, the once-Burome stood up on two feet and walked among them. It could sense each seedling as it passed by, could feel their dull, mindless hunger. It felt its connection to them – a wisp of string that would become a rope, a leash. Soon they would be under its control.
It just had to find their alpha.
From above, on the roofs, windowsills, and balconies, a pack of Others – the shepherds to this horde – watched it approach. The once-Burome could feel their hostile gaze as it walked through their flock, but it paid them no heed. They were the pack, not the pack leader, and posed no threat. Soon, like their flock, they would follow the once-Burome too.
It just had to exert its dominance.
The once-Burome stepped out of the horde and up onto the hood of a vehicle, which crunched and bent under its weight. It returned the gaze of the spectating Others, postured its shoulders high and bellowed a challenge. Immediately the air filled with the rattle of clacking teeth as the Others began calling to each other.
Then, from one of the buildings, a howl – equally loud – replied, accepting the challenge.
The once-Burome huffed and turned towards the sound, waiting for its rival. It didn’t have to wait long. A moment later, one of the above windows shattered outwards, raining glass, and a massive Other folded itself out through the broken pane.
