by Roach, Aaron
“What’s at the Safety Zones?” Kat shouted.
Bill shrugged. “Not sure. I live further inland and we weren’t hit in the attack. All I know of the zones are what we see when we drop off our rescues. Federation Forces are there, hundreds of infantry, and they are setting up all sorts of chain-link fencing and barricades. It’s kind of like a pop-up camp, but the size of a city! You’ll see when we fly over.
For now, sit back, try to relax, and keep those ears covered. We are going to try and find a few more people before we head back.”
With that, the conversation ended, and Bill turned to look purposefully out the oval window at the passing rooftops below. Kat followed his gaze and was surprised to note she could still see her building. It was then she realized that they were flying in an ever-growing circle, a search and rescue pattern that spiraled outwards from her rooftop.
“They are good people.” Sophia said loudly, next to her.
“What?”
“They are good people, both of them.” Sophia repeated, nodding at Bill and Sue. “They volunteered for this; they want to be here. It’s nice seeing people being good to each other, trying to help each other; instead of, you know…”
Eating each other.
She cleared her throat and continued. “My dad always told me to look for the good people in a bad situation. The helpers. That’s them.”
Kat admired the kid’s tenacity. She had seen so much horror over the past two days, yet she still found a way to remain positive. It was something Kat could learn from. She squeezed Sophia’s hand, “You’re a tough kid, you know that?”
Sophia smiled back at her, “Yeah, I know.”
“Hey, I almost forgot, I have something for you!” Kat reached down and rummaged in her bag until her hand grasped the handle of the slingshot. “My brother gave this to me when I was a little older than you, before the Federation sent him off to go die in the Rockies,” she said, before noting the bitterness in her voice. She forced a chuckle and tried to save the moment, “He said it was so I could protect myself from the boys while he was gone. Anyways, here, I do a good enough job of that on my own. You take it, since you’re so tough.”
Sophia looked up at the older girl and smiled, taking the offering from her. “Thank you, Kat. I’ll take care of it, I promise.”
From the pilot’s seat, Sue whistled and pointed at something below. “I got a smoke flare down there Bill,” she exclaimed loudly. “Looks like two troopers and a civilian. Hold on to something, I’m bringing her down.” She leaned into her controls, and the rescued passengers felt themselves shifting in their seats as the helicopter banked into a turn and began a slow descent.
“Wait a sec, Sue!” Bill shouted suddenly. “I see something, there!”
Kat and Sophia leaned out of their seats and looked out the window to where Bill indicated below.
It was the skeletal from the water tower. It had followed them.
It was difficult to spot at first. It leapt like a jaguar, sticking to the shade of the streets and alleyways, and covering the distance with frightening speed. As it ran through the urban jungle below, it kept its skull aimed upwards at them. They had only been able to see the thing because of its movement, in contrast to all the dead things down there which were standing still.
Suddenly, a voice in Kat’s ear spat, “We can smell you!”
Kat rounded to see the glaring woman’s face less than an inch from her own. The woman hissed, saliva dribbling from clenched teeth, “We can smell the memory of the girl!”
Instinctively, Kat brought her palm up and shoved the woman hard to create some distance. The woman screeched in fury and reached down to unfasten her seatbelt. Freed, she made to lunge at Sophia before her eyes suddenly rolled backwards revealing the whites below. She collapsed to the floor, and began convulsing, her mouth frothing. At the commotion, Bill turned from the window, surprise written on his face. At the same time, the man in the disheveled business suit awoke from his doze. He began to shriek in panic at the woman’s antics. He undid his seat belt and kicked away, crying out as his retreat was blocked by the limited space of the helicopter cabin. He stared wide-eyed down at the woman whose mouth was now beginning to snap loudly, chomping at the air.
“She’s infected! She’s turning! Do something!” he yelled.
The look of surprise on Bill’s face was replaced with one of realization as the man’s words hit home. He leapt across the cabin, grabbing the woman and yanking her up by the shirt with both hands. With surprising strength that belied his short stature, Bill shoved the spasmodic woman against the door in a bid to distance her angry mouth from his passengers. As the back of her head slammed against the hard metal, the woman stilled suddenly, and Bill worried that he might have killed her.
But the businessman never stopped howling in fear, his shrieks pitched high above the roar of the engine. “Throw her out!” he cried from the farthest corner of the cabin, “Throw her out now!”
“I’m not going to throw her out of an airborne helicopter, you lunatic!” Bill roared back at the man, his arms straining from the effort of holding the limp woman. Yet he was unsure of how to proceed. His rescue training that morning had been rushed and minimal, lasting only about twenty minutes before he was sent into the sky with Sue.
What were the instructions for dealing with an infected person? He’d only been told not to let anybody with bites or open wounds aboard the aircraft.
Too late for that.
Bill cursed himself for being so damned trusting. The woman had even had a limp in her step when he pulled her aboard, yet he had believed her when she said she had just twisted her leg in a fall.
The woman stirred in Bill’s hands, the unnatural awakening surprising him and causing him to flinch backwards in fear. The woman opened her dull grey eyes and stared at the stunned Bill for a silent moment before lurching, open mawed, towards his face. He tried to duck away, but he was too slow. He felt her teeth sink into the shallow skin at his brow and he screamed at the sudden agony rippling down his face, like brain freeze coming to a boil. He kicked out, trying to blink away the warm blood that streamed into his eyes, but the teeth held fast, and his vision grew darker and redder. The woman had her grips on him, and she clawed and bit, taking away chunks.
“The door!” Sue screamed from the pilot’s seat, “Somebody get the fucking door!”
Kat unhooked her safety belt and threw herself across the cabin towards the hatch. She yanked the handle upwards and cold air rushed in as the doorway opened, the roar of the wind and engine deafening.
The helicopter heaved sideways, and Bill and the dead woman began to fall. He reached out with scrambling hands and caught himself on the doorway before he could be sent out into the sky. The dead woman made no such attempt to save herself and fell through the open space out into nothingness. He watched her descend to earth, her hands still grasping for him, before the helicopter righted itself and she was gone.
With the helicopter level and his feet back on solid ground, Bill doubled over in agony, withering into a fetal position on the floor. He choked in deep breaths, trying to smother the scream he felt rising in his throat. Despite the roar of the wind through the still open doorway, he felt the silence of the cabin. No voices asked after him and no hands came to pull him back upright or apply aid to his wounds. Instead, he felt only his passengers’ eyes as they watched, dumbstruck at his suffering, unsure if they should touch their now infected rescuer.
Bill winced, blinking away tears, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He braced his back against the wall next to the still open doorway and felt the cool rush of wind against his left cheek like a kiss. He looked across the space at his passengers. The disheveled businessman – Bill had forgotten his name – looked at him with fear and distrust in his eyes. The girls were huddled together, with the older one holding her arm protectively over the younger, creating a barrier between him and her.
Sophia’s eyes met Bill�
�s before she turned to look up at the older girl, her mouth forming words which he could not hear. Slowly, Sophia pushed the protection of Kat’s arm away and she crossed the space towards him. She bent down to his level and smiled. It was a sad smile, but sincere. She mouthed words that again went unheard, carried away by the rushing wind. Unsure of what she was trying to say, he gritted his teeth into a smile as a reply. She reached down and grabbed his hand, her little fingers becoming slippery with the blood that coated his. She leaned in and brought her words closer to his ears.
You are a good person, Bill. Thank you for helping us.
Bill’s fading mind struggled to understand the words, but it recognized the kindness in her tone. He looked at her through heavy eyelids and tried to tell her he’d been happy to help, but his voice was gone. Behind the shape of the girl, he saw the figure of the businessman arise and come over to them. His vision darkened as the man grew closer, and then Bill felt himself being moved. Slowly the kiss of the rushing wind on his cheek grew to envelop his entire body and he was swallowed whole.
-41-
The once-Burome could sense the Foul One moving through its territory like an itch across skin.
It walked unchallenged through the trap the once-Burome had set against the unchanged invaders, and in doing so, threatened the control the once-Burome had over the horde. The Foul One was currently with two other unchanged, inside a building somewhere across the city, where each time it brushed by one of the waiting seedlings it sent a ripple of taint that grew through the horde’s collective consciousness until it crashed, jolting like a wave of electricity into the once-Burome’s skull.
The once-Burome wanted to kill the Foul One, to eliminate it from its territory, but it could not.
Not that it hadn’t tried.
The first time it had tried to kill the thing, it was at the place where the once-Burome had been born. The once-Burome had tried to turn the Foul One; to take its throat and render it a seedling, but the taste of rot, rancid and impure, physically repulsed the once-Burome away from the thing’s foul presence.
The second time, the once-Burome had tried to use a seedling – a useless one, with no arms or legs and too broken to be kept in the horde – to attack the Foul One. When orders were sent through the hivemind to turn it, the seedling had disobeyed the command and its mental connection to the once-Burome had been severed. Worse, the Others of the horde had sensed it happen, a weakness revealed, and had immediately begun testing the once-Burome, straining against the reins that bound them to the horde. The once-Burome had been forced to reestablish its dominance over them by taking a few more skulls.
The Foul One’s presence was a threat to the once-Burome’s control, a threat it did not know how to challenge.
The once-Burome huffed angrily through the drop-shaped slits of where its nose should have been. For now, it had no choice but to ignore the Foul One. It tucked the thing away into the back of its mind like a tumor and brought its focus back to the trap it had set.
The invaders of unchanged continued to march deep into the once-Burome’s territory. Thousands of them, on foot and in great machines, had come for war. They came from all directions, in penetrating fragments that maneuvered through the once-Burome’s standing army. Through the horde’s consciousness, it could sense their fear and confusion, broadcasted through the hivemind by the seedlings they passed.
The time to attack was soon.
The once-Burome stood erect and basked in its own war-readiness. It had evolved, grown massive. Its legs, dense trunks of bone, had sprouted fibrous muscles that snaked their way upwards like ivy. The calloused blades of its shoulders had grown hard and jagged, and the vertebrae of its spine had transformed into double-jointed knuckles, allowing it to bend and roll unnaturally. The forward dome of its skull had grown thick, with protruding spiked antlers that it wore like a crown. Beneath the crown, its lower jaw had grown outward with broken teeth that were a fault line into its hellish maw.
Internally, mentally, the once-Burome held the reins of its army, which strained to be unleashed on the unchanged walking among them. It could feel their desire to feed and grow the horde.
Soon.
The Foul One itched at its consciousness again, and hesitantly, the once-Burome brought its focus back to it. Immediately, the once-Burome wanted to let go, so repulsive was the thought of the thing. It snorted in disgust but held on to the thought.
The Foul One was moving towards where the once-Burome kept the memory.
The memory of the girl with the pigtail on the side of her head.
Alarmed, it cast its focus out to the scout that had been tasked to follow the child, and its trepidation grew as it realized the Foul One’s path was bringing it close to her. She was elevated, somewhere high, but close enough to the Foul One to fill the once-Burome with a primordial, unnatural fear it did not understand.
Then suddenly the girl was there, sitting next to him.
Burome sat looking across the dining table at the spot where his wife had usually sat. At its emptiness, he felt such profound sorrow that he began to weep, deep racking sobs that left cramps in his stomach.
Movement to his right.
Burome looked up to see Sophia getting out of her chair, her small dangling feet reaching the floor with her toes. He watched the top of her head make its way around the table towards where he sat, and then he watched her wrap her little arms around his leg in a hug.
“It’s okay, Daddy,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “We’re going to be okay.”
“Baby girl,” he tried to mumble at her.
But the words didn’t come. Instead they were replaced with cracked and guttural noises that spilled from his mouth, terrifying him.
Panic, before the memory disappeared in freefall.
The once-Burome roared at its fading humanity. It stomped its feet and beat a clubbed fist against the shell of its ribcage. It snarled and slammed its antlered skull against the stone wall of its nest. The memory had been an intrusion, unwelcome, and it left behind unwanted images on its consciousness.
The reins of the horde were beginning to slip from its mind.
-42-
Down on the street, surrounded by the standing, waiting dead, Staff Sergeant Whitney and his cadre of soldiers watched as the helicopter suddenly halted its descent towards the nearby rooftop where Ward and Litz were waiting to evacuate the civilian. Whitney stared at the metal bird, willing it to hurry, but it simply hung there in the sky unmoving. Not for the first time that morning he cursed his superiors for including civilian evacuations into the scope of their mission. Whitney looked around at the standing corpses that surrounded them and tried not to shudder. The sooner they arrived at their designated zone, the sooner they could establish a fortified perimeter and begin clearing the city of the dead.
Until then, he wanted to be moving.
Though he did not have eyes on Ward and Litz, Whitney could see the smoke from their flares swirling through the helicopter’s blades. He was watching the swirls disappear when suddenly the helicopter tilted, and the body of a woman came tumbling out. It fell through open sky until it landed with a meaty thud on the road, a mere block and a half away from where they stood. Then, a few heartbeats later, another body was thrown from the aircraft and landed close to where the woman had impacted.
What the hell is going on up there?
Concerned, Whitney was about to shout into his radio, to order Ward and Litz to abandon the evacuation and rejoin the unit, when the helicopter restarted its descent, controlled and easy. He watched the thing come down safely until it disappeared, lost from sight by his low angle.
Whatever was going on, it seemed like the pilot had it handled.
About time.
While the soldiers waited for Ward and Litz to rejoin them, Whitney and his men moved to check on the fallen bodies. He doubted the people were alive to need help, not after a fall like that; but having his men doing something, anything but
stand there, was a welcome distraction from the stoic corpses surrounding them.
Suddenly, the piercing siren of a car alarm went off, pulling the soldiers’ attention to the right. Whitney turned in time to see a skeleton exploding out of an alleyway to land amongst his men, scattering them like bowling pins. Whitney heard his voice shouting before he could even register the words coming out of his mouth, “Open fire!”
The soldiers unloaded into the thing, who roared back, confused at the sudden onslaught to which it found itself subjected. It twitched and buckled with gunfire, stabbing outwards at the air with its broken appendages. After what felt like far too many seconds, the creature was nothing but a heap of bone fragments on the asphalt.
“What in God’s name was that?” cried one of the soldiers just after Whitney had ordered them to ceasefire. None replied, but they all knew the answer.
A skeletal, what Command had dubbed “the primary infected.”
The ones that were to be terminated on sight.
Whitney walked over and kicked at the heap of bones and tried not to think about how it had been a person once. Then, somewhere behind him, one of the standing bodies groaned.
The men froze as they always did when the dead called to each other, waiting for the silence that followed, as had been the case all morning. Now, however, the noise didn’t cease. Instead, the undead moaning was picked up by another and another until the air all around them was filled with the frightening sounds of awakening.
Whitney turned to stare at the corpses. Boston’s undead faces, which had done nothing but gape skyward all morning, were now leveled at him and his men, the dead grey of their eyes somehow full of angry intent. Though they remained unmoving, the guttural noises escaping their throats reminded Whitney of the sounds of car engines revving up before a race, or a hospital patient struggling to fight his way out of a coma.
