The Drumhead

by Richard Correll

  The spinal column, inside she felt almost drunk to the world. Come inside, sweety. You look so cold……..

  “NO!” Her fists slammed into the horn and her expletive was followed by a roar of anger. The blare of the car horn reverberated like a long, loud air raid siren. Why can’t I feel anything? She was almost desperate to push back the bitter ice of her insides. For a second Maggie gagged and then tasted acid in her throat. She screamed a second time and tried to orient herself to the things around her. Her wild eyes took in hands, faces and blood. Is this what it feels like? Maggie stared straight ahead through the cold of her senses. Is this what revenge feels like?

  It feels like………nothing. She was numb. Cold, heartless nothing.

  The things around the Limousine paid her little attention. They were completely transfixed on their kill. Was there a pecking order? Maggie dismissed it as her imagination. Still, they were all so similar in their actions. They would bend over with an almost ecstatic look in their eyes and feed quickly, trying to bite as large a piece of muscle or flesh they could find. Then, almost on cue they would rise up and move on for the next member of the pack. As soon as they had left the corpse they would choose a spot and finish consuming their share of the bloody spoils. Maggie watched the girl in the argyle skirt lick blood off the face of a thirtyish woman who was seated on the curb. It seemed strangely in tune, one animal to another. Is that what they are? Animals? Another violent shiver of cold made her hunch her shoulders. Cold, it was the only sensation she had.

  It occurred to Maggie in a startled moment that the engine was still running. She took a deep breath and slowly moved her fingers to put the black beast in drive. Blood still trickled slowly down the windshield. It was mixed with clumps of flesh, making the progress slow. The windshield wipers did their best to clear her visibility. The vehicle lurched ahead slowly. Maggie’s instincts had taken over now as her thoughts lay huddled in shock. It seemed strange that her overwhelming instinct was to move slowly and carefully among the feeding forms. She took special care to make sure she didn’t run over any of them. Why? She wondered. It just feels like the right thing to do. It was the only answer she could find. She carefully nudged the woman in the hijab that had first bitten Springs. She was feeding on tattered chunks of flesh between her fingers. She stepped slowly out of Maggie’s way when the vehicle brushed past her hip. Several others performed the same steps without even looking up. Why don’t you just run the fucking things over? A voice within her asked without emotion. The pungent smell of spilled blood wafted through the air conditioning filter and filled her nostrils. No, she decided. Not this time. A young man was bumped by the grill and hissed in hollow affrontment before making room.

  He had been staring at her for some time. Maggie looked slightly to her right through the crimson stained windshield and their eyes met. He was tall, distinguished and handsome. He had grey hair that was manicured carefully. Long tracks of blood ran down his neck from an invisible wound in the back of his head. The man was wearing a cardigan jacket and shirt. The eyes betrayed no ferocity. Instead, they seemed almost contemplative, perhaps even a touch reflective. As she slowly drove by their eyes remained locked on another. He regarded her with an almost detached interest. As they got closer, Maggie could not look away. His mouth was a thin line, devoid of emotion. The cheekbones were high on his intellectually masculine face. The nose was thin, aquiline. The yellow eyes had depth and a hint of acumen. For a second, Maggie longed to look into his soul.

  “Who are you?” Maggie whispered uncontrollably. “What has happened to you? Where do we go from here?”

  He remained unblinking as the moment lingered between them. Did he say something? Did he just speak? Maggie could feel a message formulate in the ice of her stomach.

  What has happened to me? Maggie thought in astonishment. Who am I now? She looked to the man for an answer but he had nothing to offer but the questions between them. She turned on to Racine and drove through the tattered remnants of lives. We’re both dead now, aren’t we? Maggie shivered again as the wipers pushed aside the slowly congealing blood on the windshield.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  He seemed like a good guy.” Joel Anderson kept his eyes on the track. But a slight turn of the head let his voice carry to the rest of the room. “You did the right thing.”

  Pinder nodded his head but he was miles away. He thought about Brett and his moment of instability. Can anyone blame him? There was a sense of apprehensive finality everywhere. The world was starting to turn on a new axis. He had walked through the passenger compartment and had a chance to watch a few faces. They were alone now with their thoughts and memories. There was little conversation or tears. Just faces that almost reminded him of the mannequins back at Macy’s. They had become flat lines like the kind you see on heart monitors. There was not even the slightest hint of an arc, completely one dimensional. They put ear buds in and listened to their phones drone on. To some, it was scrolling through newsfeeds to find anything current. But, when it became clear that these were not being updated they checked for news sights. A few actually were listening to music. Perhaps hoping a few siren songs of a fading world would bring it all back

  What kind of facial expression would sum up the end of all things? Pinder walked slowly down the aisle and saw it again and again. Flat line mouth, dead inside. One man was only listening with one earpiece while the other blurted out a warning from a U Tube channel.

  “DON’T LET THEM IN!!! DON’T FUCKING LET THEM IN!!!”

  The eyes seemed to be turned inwards or to some invisible place. They had receded in color and clarity. It was like looking at a home that seemed deserted but you knew the owner was hiding in the basement. It struck Pinder as strange that no one seemed to be praying. Perhaps that had gone out of style with the arrival of the new digital pulpit. The phones played on.

  “Yes, thank you.” Pinder finally nodded. He hoped his tone was respectful of Brett’s memory and would bury the topic forever. He felt ashamed for his lack of answers. He had been crushed between duty and reality. There were so many on board. There was no time to look for a man who clearly had cut a new path for himself and might not want to be found.

  We never leave anyone behind, he had heard someone brag. Yes, we do. His thoughts were a solemn bell tolling the truth. Yes, we do. Sometimes we do.

  “What the hell?” Anderson spoke aloud. It was just lying on the tracks. A glowing orb interrupted the precise ribbon of wood and rail before them. Ever so slightly, he turned the lever to the left and they began to slow down a bit.

  “A flare.” Bradley offered and then spoke louder. “Is that a flare?”

  Something else was in the distance, another ruby red fire. This one moved back and forth with the precision of a metronome. The closer they got, the clearer the picture became. Distance surrendered to clarity and Pinder finally saw a thin form holding the flare in the air and waving it back and forth.

  “Maggie.” Pinder sounded like he had just seen a ghost.

  “Damn…..” There was wonder in Anderson’s voice as he slowed the train further.

  “Mr. Bradley,” Pinder tried to stay calm but his voice betrayed his relief at the final arrival of good news. “Let’s welcome back our CO.”

  “Yes sir.” Bradley’s voiced complete, almost falsetto agreement.

  Pinder gave the private a sideways glance of a smile and spared one more look out the windshield of the engine. Thin, short red hair peeking out of the corners of her helmet. A nose that looked like it might have been broken once or twice. Wide, fiery green eyes and a crooked, grim smile. Holy fuck, it really was Miss Hell on Wheels.

  Pinder walked away from the window down the narrow hall that led to the first set of stairs he could find. As he was about to clamber down he saw Moshood appear from the passenger compartment, ax in hand.

  “Problem, sir?” He had his sleeves rolled up. Moshood’s face was the color of grim determination.

  “Lieutenan
t Hunter has decided to grace us with her presence.” Pinder couldn’t resist the stab at humor. He studied Moshood’s face for a reaction. He got one.

  “You are kidding me.” A smile of relief broke out on his face. He paused and added: “Sir.”

  “Lets’ be careful stepping off the train.” Pinder paused the celebration for a second. “Like the Lieutenant says, we gotta do this by the book.”

  “Yes sir.” A pause, yes, we are still on dangerous ground. The pace slowed down the stairs. Animal instinct returned. The train’s lumbering bulk fought back physics and the brakes slowed the monster to a jerky stop. Pinder’s eyes probed the sunshine for threats and came up empty. He jumped off the final step and landed on the gravel surface. A half second later, he pivoted and took a careful look under the wheels of the train. He beckoned Moshood and Bradley forward. We’re safe. For now…..

  Maggie watched the train slow down as it approached. It was like looking at a road sign that announced you had arrived at your destination. Surges of adrenalin kept Maggie on her feet while she started to stride toward the train.It had been so easy to find, grinding steel wheels on train tracks could be heard for miles in this city of silence. As soon as she heard it, it had to be them. It was a weird new level of paranoia now to be in the open after hiding for so long. That sense of feeling un-safe, exposed. Maggie carefully tore her eyes away from the train and did a perfect 360 of her surroundings. Figures several hundred yards away on Racine had yet to pick up their scent. They still had time.

  Time….

  It flashed past her quickly. Gunfire, the man in black wearing the cap, a Limousine driver’s uniform. Her fingers finding the keys in his pocket and holding them up to her own widening eyes. They felt like a flash drive in her fingers, downloading information to a waiting, desperate server. Yes, we have a plan. Her legs suddenly found speed at the sensation of salvation. The row of black limousines lined up like coffins at a crematorium on LaSalle. A flick of her finger on the circular fob and one of them comes to life. The door obediently opens and she slides into the leather and wood finished world. A turn of the key and the engine growls like a pet beast.

  BAM!

  Two grey hands claw at the windshield. Maggie checks the locks and pulls out of the parking spot. For a second, she makes eye contact with the middle aged woman in a business suit and shredded face. The thing bangs her hands against the tinted glass and howls in frustration as the limousine begins to pull away.

  “Bitch, please.” Maggie mutters as she hits the gas and begins to familiarize herself with the new wheels. The woman is in her rear view standing in the centre of LaSalle, howling in defiance at the intruder. Downtown Chicago now belonged to her and her kind. Other shadows and shapes came to life and stood beside her, curious at the commotion.

  The ominous voice over the radio in the limousine. Murphy, a demand from a distant nightmare. You knew right then didn’t you? Maggie felt a hot flash as she inhaled slowly. When you heard Murphy’s voice asking to be picked up you knew right away what your next step would be. You weren’t going to bring him back for a trial. Maggie watched the events flash past her. Her right hand tightened in ……guilt perhaps?

  Fuck off. She almost spoke aloud. The internal narration continued, relishing every painful moment. You clicked the radio twice in response and then pulled up to have a front row seat to their slaughter. You enjoyed it.

  “No, I didn’t.” Maggie whispered as she watched them get off the train and carefully survey their surroundings.

  Yes, you did. How does revenge feel, Maggie? How does it feel when you watch bloody justice vetted out in front of you? You, judge and jury all rolled into one. Look at Alice’s eyes. The voice felt close by and omnipresent at the same time. Look into her eyes. You saw the last few minutes of her life. How did it feel? Justice was served on a silver platter, Maggie. The blood is on your hands. The pre meditated murderous blood is on your hands. How does it feel?

  “What’s done is done.” She carefully tossed the flare on to some gravel. No sense starting a fire and adding to the carnage by burning down Chicago. “Its’ over now.”

  It’s called premeditated murder, Maggie. The voice concluded. They are going to execute you and you’re going to burn in hell.

  “Good,” She muttered as they approached. I can’t feel anything. I’m dead inside…… She felt removed from the world. Welcome to revenge, bitch. Her conscience couldn’t resist one last shot.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “God damnit Maggie,” Pinder ‘s smile was genuine. “How are you?”

  “I’m okay.” She lied.

  “Great to see you, Ma’am.” Bradley couldn’t help but salute as Moshood broke out in a grin and followed suit.

  “Why Mr. Bradley, that’s the best salute I’ve ever seen you do.” Maggie hid behind humor. “Absence does make the heart grow fonder.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Have we heard from Chalmers and Brenda?’ She asked hopefully.

  “No, Ma’am.” The smile on Bradley’s face withered and died.

  “Did we lose anyone else?” Maggie felt her soul curl up in a ball. Don’t let them see. Don’t let them see.

  There was a pause in the air. . Moshood swallowed slowly and looked at his feet. Pinder cleared his throat and tried to speak. He paused and then tried again.

  “Esterhaus.” Pinder finally managed to get the name out. Let’s start there and try and make this easier.

  “No,” a whisper escaped her mouth like she’s taken a punch. His kids, oh my god, his kids. “How?”

  “He was bitten and stayed behind to buy us some time.” Pinder had found himself now and tried to fill in the blanks. “He saved us, Maggie.”

  “Holy fuck, Baltimore!” It was Bestoni. He was off the train and couldn’t help himself. “It’s great to see you, lady.”

  “You too, Chicago!” Maggie managed a brave smile. When he got close enough her voice changed to a lower timber. “We were just talking about casualties.”

  “I’m sorry about that Symons guy.” Bestoni’s face was suddenly regret and sadness.

  Maggie felt herself lose balance. The gravel became nothing and she felt a falling sensation. Her mouth began to drop open. “What happened?” She whispered.

  “He thought you were dead.” Bestoni was in reporter mode now. The facts came out in a monotone, Pinder, Moshood and Bradley bowed their heads to listen. Perhaps even in respectful silence.

  “Dead?”

  “It looks like he tried to call your phone and….” Bestoni sighed for a minute and tried to start up again. “He just said that you were dead and just stepped off the moving train. I’m sorry, I tried to grab him….I just…”

  Maggie paused for a minute and reached out to touch his shoulder. She could feel Brett all around her now. Maggie felt her vision lose clarity and start to turn inwards. The feel, the touch, the things he was. She looked up and the grip on Bestoni suddenly became tight. “Did you see him land okay?”

  “Yeah,” Bestoni nodded quickly, eager to give some good news. “He was fine, he just walked away.”

  “Okay,” Maggie nodded. She was suddenly aware of a rising tide of anxiety It felt like time was trapped in an hour glass that was running out. The longer you’re in the open the more dangerous it’s going to get…..forever. “Maybe we should get back on the train.” She offered to Pinder, her voice camouflaging the rising panic.

  “The Lieutenant and I will join you in a minute.” Three sets of eyes looked over to Maggie and she gave a slight nod. Reluctantly, they moved back to the train. The euphoria of finding Maggie had faded in the harsh sunlight of morning.

  “It’s your call, Maggie.” Pinder turned to walk slowly back to the train with his arms crossed.

  “Tell me why you didn’t.” She took a deep breath and felt like she was going to trip over something. Maggie felt clumsy, slow as the icicles returned. “Maybe we can find Brenda and Chalmers and……”

  “Mag
gie,” Pinder cleared his voice and spoke. “The train we have has a busted fuel gauge. It’s why it was left behind.”

  Maggie instinctively turned and 360’d a second time. The figures on Racine seemed to have picked up the scent, maybe it was the train. They were moving slowly in their direction in that clumsy death dance they perform that always gave them away.

  “I didn’t turn around because we have a lot of people on this train.” Pinder paused and waited for Maggie to resume walking with him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You made the right decision.” Maggie listened to her own voice like a spectator. How the fuck can you sound so calm? “We can’t go back.”