“Sergeant Symons,“ Maggie kept her tone low and calm. “I completely agree with you. But, I need you and Private Bradley to keep your eyes on the front door.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Symons nodded to Maggie with the storm still seething in his eyes. His voice was a deeper shade of anger.
She nodded to him. Her eyes lingered on his back for a second as she pondered what Murphy had done. He’s killed me. He’s killed Pinder and all of the rest of these people. She tried to fathom the kind of logic that ran Murphy’s mind and came up blank. It was like looking into a deep pit. No matter how hard you examined the depths you could not see the bottom.
Do you love him? Maggie was surprised at the thought as she lingered on Symons for a second more. How the hell do I know? She admitted. Here I am about to drag him down with me. The pit of blackness she was staring into seemed to grow tentacles to try and ensnare her. Nobody will say anything if you just drop it. A voice reminded her. A pressure around her chest surprised Maggie for a second. She looked down at her arms crossed against her. They were wrapped so tightly around the base of Maggie’s ribcage she wasn’t breathing. Maggie’s fists were balled so tightly that she had lost circulation to her fingers.
How long have I been like this? She wondered. The information droned on from the phone.
“The evacuation centers have been clearly marked on your local news channels. GPS may help locate them in some areas but may not be one hundred per cent reliable.”
“No shit,” Maggie thought she heard someone mutter.
Maggie watched the lower part of the screen scroll by with locations like O’Hare international airport, Hammond/Whiting station in East Chicago, Fort Sheridan and others. All the locations were miles away. It was obvious to Maggie this was a huge retreat. But, what happens when they can’t hold those positions? A visual from the last days of Saigon played in front of her eyes for a second before she shook her head and walked toward the fire exit guarded by Chalmers.
“Maggie?!” The voice was Pinder’s. It was part an order and part an exclamation of surprise.
“Just want to look around a bit, sir.” Maggie looked over and lied. “Just need a second to help us plan what to do next.”
“Why not take someone with you?” Pinder offered.
“I……,” Maggie paused and turned for the door. “I do my best thinking alone, sir.” She was through the door before there was a reply.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She was up four flights of stairs without even thinking. She then slammed open the fire escape door and went charging right into the hallway. Aren’t you going to listen or check? An inquisitive voice in her head asked. Why? If anything is up here its’ just gonna do me a favor.
No one’s gonna believe you, bitch.
She turned to her left and kicked the first door she could see. It flew open with a sound that almost mimicked a gunshot in intensity. Maggie took two shallow breaths and felt rage and frustration fight it out inside her. You did the right thing. Everybody said you did the right thing.
“Good for you, ma’am.” Brenda’s voice was suddenly at her ear.
You did the right thing and now a lot of people will pay for their lives. Why? Her eyes were wide and she wanted to cry but she was way beyond that right now. All of these people, faces flashed past her and memories burrowed into her heart. She was sitting behind her desk when Esterhaus was talking about his divorce. He abruptly turned and punched a hole in the wall behind him.
“Lets’ go for a coffee before you destroy my office.” She said calmly. Esterhaus looked at her for a minute before balling his fists and crying.
Chalmers requesting a weekend pass. Maggie remembered looking at the papers on her desk insisting no leaves for the next two weeks. She studied him for a long moment and then asked: “Personal?”
“Yes, ma’am, very personal.”
Maggie made two leave requests. The one that her superior signed was for 3 months from now. The one in Chalmers pocket with the forged signature got him off base. Maggie had later learned Chalmers was driving his sister to an abortion clinic in another state. He was from a very good family. The whole thing would be a brother/sister secret forever.
Three years ago before the army on a roller coaster at Coney Island with Brett. They were seated beside each other as the screams of others echoed in their ears. All he did throughout the ride was stare intensely in her eyes with that slow smile on his face. Maggie returned the look as the thrill of gravity defied filled up inside her.
“Damn, I want you.” She heard herself say.
Now, he was going to die because you had to do the right thing. She could feel herself get cold. First, in the shoulders and then across her back. You never thought about who was going to get caught in the crossfire, did you? Maggie stood helpless in a room with posters, a single bed and scraps of someone else’s life scattered about.
Maggie heard voices and moments flash past. Each one paused long enough to cut a little deeper into her soul. She slowly started to shake her head from side to side. Here I am four floors up, staring at the streets I am going to die on. The thought almost struck her as cavalier. The window was facing east down the cavernous concrete passage that was Madison. It was still lit up here and there by neon luminosity. The turn of the century style lamps at the corner of Madison and State cut through the darkness. They illuminated the way for empty streets and the occasional shadowy figure that slowly lurched past the orange construction drums and paid them no mind.
She froze. Primitive instinct took over.
In the outline of the city, in the shadow of the glass. Someone was standing behind her. He was a tall man who had appeared out of the hallways. Whether he had caught a scent and followed her or was attracted by the noise he was right behind her. You’re okay with this, aren’t you? She turned quickly with her hand sliding down to locate her knife. The sheath was empty. You left it in that little boy’s eye remember? The voice inside her was cold and remorseless without a drop of pity.
“Maggie?” The first thing she saw was his blue eyes. The ones she lost herself in on the roller coaster. “Pinder sent me up to check on you.” Bret’s eyes softened and he asked: “Are you okay?
“Of course not.” Her mouth twisted into a snarl of self loathing. She felt so ugly and she wanted him to see it. “I’m never gonna be okay.”
“C’mon, Maggie…….” A hand reached out to touch her shoulder and Maggie shied away.
“I’m gonna get you killed.“ Her teeth flashed in the shadows. “I’m gonna get a lot of people killed.”
“That’s’ not true.” His voice was one of the many things that had attracted her to him. It was rich, calm and deep. The accent was there but not overwhelming. It was like that beautiful, mysterious taste in a glass of wine that you couldn’t identify but could not do without. His voice could calm her, excite her and entice her. But, not now.
“Why are you here?” She demanded. Maggie was suddenly angry. She was frustrated that he could not understand. Don’t you get it? Maggie wanted to grab him and shake him. Don’t you get it? Maggie wanted to kiss him and taste him. Don’t you get it?
“I’m here because I was ordered to….” It was his steady and strong tone now.
“You are here because of me.” It came out as a statement when she wanted it to sound like an apology. Damnit! She was so frustrated. How did I fuck things up so badly on you? “You are here because I just had to go and fight back.”
“Reeeeeeeepent………….”
“Maggie, the day you stop fighting things like that is the day you die.” His eyes were clear, passionate. “You are not ready to die.”
“Don’t be so sure.” She spoke the words without thinking and then realized she was telling the truth.
“Reeeeeeeeepent……….”
Brett stood for a long moment as he looked deeper into her eyes. He looked like his world had spun off its’ axis. Dismay, confusion and sadness seemed to blend themselves together int
o one expression. My god, I know you love me. Maggie wanted to say so much at once that the words caught themselves in her throat. All she could do was stare into his eyes. I am so sorry, it was all she could think of.
“Reeeeeepent!” Brett heard the voice but did not want to take his eyes away from Maggie. He looked like he wanted to just hold her forever while the world withered and died around them. He finally looked over her shoulder and through the glass to the street below.
“Reeeeeepent.” He was a man in a dark business suit and black tie. His shirt was pristine white as he walked down the center of Madison heading west toward them.
“Oh my god,” Maggie finally turned around and saw him. She examined him closer. Although he was a good city block away she could make out dried blood on the side of his face. Mute evidence that he had taken a hard blow to the head. His black rimmed glasses hung at a crazy angle on the bridge of his nose.
“He’s delirious.” Brett whispered sadly.
“Reeeeepent!” The man staggered up the street with a cardboard sign pleading the word he repeated over and over . “Reeeepent! The resurrection of both the righteous and the wicked has come!”
Shadows came to life in corners and alleyways. They at first eyed him as a curiosity, sniffing the air as they stared the man down with blank eyes. A woman in a green pencil skirt, matching jacket and shredded nylons was the first to hiss at him. Her perfectly cut shoulder length hair hung in front of her eyes and camouflaged the wounds on her face.
Vague forms that had been examining windows, doors and anything with the hint of a scent looked up and began to watch the man. It was like they were hypnotized by him. The slow walk down the center of the street was suddenly the only thing in the world. Behind the man, they began to fall in and follow.
Maggie felt her jaw tighten as the man continued up the street in a less than straight line. He would move slightly to the right and correct himself to the left. He was like a sailboat in inexperienced hands. Fifty yards away a few figures silhouetted against the night paused and turned to the sound of the man’s voice. One or two cocked their heads slowly and time stood still while they processed the information before them.
Whether it was the movement, the voice or the scent of the blood on his face that lingered in the air was not important. One by one, the mouths opened and the teeth flashed in the night as they lowered their heads and turned to follow him.
“Reeeeeeepent!”
They both walked closer to the glass and saw the wildness of his eyes. Behind him, what was a minute ago a few sinister figures had now grown into a dense, creeping blanket. As he crossed State Street, his head turned to his right and he seemed to recognize a figure coming forward. The eyes seemed to dull slightly and return to the realms of reality and logic. She was a very pretty teenage girl in a beautiful chiffon dress that complimented her perfect long blonde hair. Her mouth became a gaping wound in her face as her bloodied teeth were exposed. He shook his head once, then a second time. The black rimmed glasses fell to the ground. He started to back away from her. She followed at a faster pace, urged on by the promise of a kill.
“Repent!” It was a plea now as he looked around him and saw them gathering quickly. They seemed to close ranks like a pack of wolves. Others, they hunted alone. They stayed a few paces farther away, waiting for their chance.
I know how this ends, Maggie thought shakily. The voice inside her spoke again. The one that had reminded her about her knife, the one that seemed to remorselessly tease her now had a new message; Watch!
The man began to move faster south on State Street. The pack followed with hungry anticipation. They ignored everything but the sweetness in the air that was the taste of his skin and blood. It was an overwhelming urge. They had to follow. Her eyes unfocused for a second. She remembered a child diving after an older man on a balcony. A burning man slashing out at her, the almost viscous faces with wild eyes spattering into the front of the bus.
The movement, the scent and the sound. They had to follow.
They lost sight of him as he disappeared up the street. The crowd that had appeared out of alleyways, doorways and out of nowhere followed in an almost imperfect primal procession. She could hear them four floors up and several yards away. Maggie was sure they might be visible with the emergency lights silhouetting them in the window. But, none stopped or looked around.
“They have to follow.” She whispered.
“You saw it, too?” Symons spoke in a distant whisper. Like a voice in the other room during a dream.
“You are not thinking right.” She whispered as the plan came together in the few seconds it took to exit the room and head for the stairs. Symons followed at a slower, warier pace. He caught up by the time they reached the fire escape. He placed a firm hand on Maggie’s shoulder to slow her down. He leaned over to peer through the re-enforced glass. Maggie’s ears perked up for a second.
“Hold it.” He whispered. She nodded and held out a careful hand. He paused and slowly rotated his neck to face her. They heard it together;
It could have been a door being forced open or furniture falling. It could have been mice. It might have been five floors up or right above them. They both looked at the ceiling as if it would suddenly grow invisible and provide the answer. They heard it again. It was more distant. As if it was happening on a different part of the floor. Then, something else. The acoustics of the building were no help. It sounded like it was coming from almost everywhere.
Footsteps, slow footsteps.
“How the hell did they get up there?” Brett had instinctively crouched lower with his eyes on the ceiling.
“Someone gets bitten, feels sick and goes to bed.” Maggie’s voice was a whispered monotone as she followed Brett’s eyes on the ceiling. She was remembering what that doctor had said while being interviewed by Molly. “They wake up as one of those things.”
“They start infecting others.” Brett’s nod was slow and deliberate.
“Yup.” She nodded quietly. “we gotta get the hell outta here.”
“Maggie,” Brett spoke her name rarely. It was usually before he made a counter point to something she had said. He was careful to do it only when they were alone. “Whatever is up there. We can take them.”
“Not without a lot of gunfire.” She stopped looking at the ceiling to make eye contact. The rollercoaster at Coney Island flashed in front of her.
“I see your point.” He nodded. Brett could just imagine the swarm on the street pressing against the hotel glass. “The more we fight. The more we attract.”
“Yup,” she whispered. It was almost like Maggie was afraid they would hear.
“We could head to the bus and call for help.” He offered but his eyes betrayed that he himself had already rejected the idea.
“No one’s coming for us, Brett.” Maggie said sadly. God! Why did I get you into this!
“We’ll find a way out.” He gave that slow smile she loved. “Let’s get back to the others.”
“Feel like moving more furniture?” She followed him down the stairs and kept her voice low.
“You want one of those couches against the fire door?” Symons replied over his shoulder. “It would be a perfect fit.”
“Sounds good.”
“What about the other stairs? The elevator?” Maggie had caught up and was walking with him down the stairs. “What are we gonna put there?”
Maggie didn’t answer. The noises upstairs made her positive of what she had to say to Pinder.
CHAPTER NINE
“No.” Pinder said firmly. They were standing behind the cash register in the cafeteria. Space was about to become at a premium as Symons moved a giant love seat against the hallway fire escape. It slid perfectly into the space between the door and the opposite hallway wall.
“Sir, “ Maggie explained. “Every minute that goes by decreases our options. This works.”
“It’s suicide.” Pinder shook his head.
Begging your pardon
, sir.” Maggie persisted. “We’re about a mile to Millennium station.”
“We’re two miles.” Pinder corrected.
“I jog more than that every morning, sir.” Maggie’s voice stayed steady. “I draw them away and then you escape.”
“Escape to where, Maggie?” Pinder was unconvinced.”It’s not like we can fly or tunnel out of here.”
“Tunnel?” A familiar voice asked. Fuck, his hearing is good. Maggie turned to face the speaker.
“You guys talking about a tunnel?” The voice piped in again. Just like a journalist, nosey as hell. She added.
“Mr…..” Maggie tried to remember his name and completely blanked out.
“Bestoni,” he filled in the blank for her as he stood up and walked over to face them over the counter. “What’s this about a tunnel?”
The Drumhead Page 13
