by Dana Fredsti
Now, however, the park had transformed into a horror maze. The lush foliage and pathways held fleeing refugees, rotting, walking corpses, and their victims. It hurt my heart to see the bloodied, maimed figures of zombies inhabiting a place that once had held such joy. It was kind of like seeing Aslan from The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe start mauling Lucy.
Just plain wrong.
As we moved I wondered what time it was. I’d lost all sense of real time once the sun had set. It felt late. My eyes were scratchy with fatigue, and the short catnap had just made me crave more sleep.
We passed tennis courts, statues, a soccer field, and the carousel of my childhood, passing the back end of Kezar Stadium, ending up behind some sort of recycling center. A chain-link fence hung with dark netting separated it from the street and the chaos. It was a weirdly peaceful place, where the sounds of screams, sirens, and the oh-so-familiar moans of the undead seemed far away.
Dense shrubbery lined the fence on the other side, affording us good cover but allowing us to observe the street beyond. The street itself was oddly empty of people, living or otherwise. Most of the block was taken up by relatively new townhouses—three rows of them—built somewhere around the seventies. They were set on terraced ground, so that the doorways stood above the street, at the top of steep staircases. There were courtyards between the rows of buildings, and a driveway ran uphill and disappeared over the top, serving the entire row of houses. The second story of each townhouse boasted a balcony with wrought-iron railings. The ground floor of each had a cement patio fenced with the same wrought iron, effectively cutting them off from their neighbors.
The builders had obviously tried to echo the neighborhood’s existing architecture, but the townhouses were sterile and looked cheap, with none of the charm or quality found in the older originals.
On either side of them stood two matching structures that looked like art deco had met a medieval church, and made babies. They both were several stories high, and I could see a plaque on the front of the one closest to us. It read “Circus Center.”
I nudged Gentry and Tony, pointing to the sign.
“The possibility of zombie clowns just increased.”
Tony hefted Thor’s Wee Hammer.
“I’m ready.”
There were lights on in some of the units, which may or may not have meant that people were still inside.
“What do you think?” Nathan said quietly, standing side by side with Gabriel as a lone zombie stumbled aimlessly down one of the stairways toward the street. I found it interesting that he deferred to Gabriel’s leadership without any apparent damage to his ego, even though he had a decade or two more experience. At the same time, Gabriel didn’t seem threatened by the older man’s expertise, perhaps seeing it as an asset, instead of a threat. Two mature men instead of a clash of male egos accompanied by the Anvil Chorus.
“Seems like a good choice,” Gabriel replied. “Considering we’re only two blocks from the UCSF medical center, it seems pretty quiet, too.”
Nathan nodded.
“Probably less chance of being noticed if we take one of the middle units.” He glanced at his wristwatch, a fancy hi-tech thing, black and chrome with assorted gears and shit. “It’s almost four. The sun comes up around seven these days, so that gives us a little time to rest.
“We need it,” he added.
“I’ll take the watch,” Nicks said, nodding. “Don’t think Hicks is gonna be up for it, though.” She glanced at her woozy partner. He was practically unconscious, leaning against the fence. Dr. Albert cast a quick look at the injured sniper, and frowned.
“I’ll see what I can do for him when we get inside.” For some reason, that surprised me.
Guess a little of the Hippocratic oath stuck to you after all.
“After all,” he added, “we need everyone moving under their own steam, or we won’t make it.”
Or maybe it didn’t.
He was right, though. No way we were going to be able to drag an unconscious man through Zombie Central. I hoped Dr. Albert could do something for him, though, because I didn’t think Nicks would be open to leaving her partner behind.
Suddenly Gentry held up a hand, and pointed down the street to our left. The sound of uneven footsteps crunching on fallen leaves could be heard as several shadowy figures moved slowly in our direction. The smell left no doubt.
We all fell silent, moving well behind the concealing bushes as two zombies made their shambling way down the sidewalk, past our hiding place. Both had been older teenage boys, wearing baggy shorts and black T-shirts with marijuana leaves boldly stenciled on the front. Even without the giveaway of the shirts, I could smell the skunky odor of old pot lingering on their clothes, combined with the smell of decomposition.
The one in front looked like he’d died of Walker’s, whereas his pal was missing great chunks of flesh from his face, arms, and legs. Odds were good they’d been roommates and the one in front had died, reanimated, and been hit with a bad case of the munchies.
We waited until, moving slowly down the street, Bill and Ted were far enough away on their Excellent Undead Adventure for us to continue our planning.
“We need to find our best point of entry,” Gabriel said in an undertone.
“I can just blow the lock off one of the front doors,” Nicks volunteered.
“Better if we can gain access from either the driveway or window, then unlock the door from the inside,” Gabriel said. “If there are still people inside, we don’t want to compromise their safety by leaving one of the main access points unsecured.”
Nicks’ face reddened.
“Didn’t think of that, sir.”
“No worries, soldier.” Gabriel then turned to me. “Ash, are you up for scouting the driveway with Nathan? It means getting over the gate.” He pointed toward one of the darkened townhouses, and gave me a challenging look. Whatever “hackles” are, I felt mine rise.
I raised one eyebrow.
“Child’s play,” I said.
Competitive? Who, me?
Then I thought about it.
Yeah, okay, it’s a fair cop.
I quickly shed my knapsack and left both rifles. My blades would do well enough for this, and I didn’t need the extra bulk while shimmying over fences.
Watching me, Gabriel actually grinned, then nodded towards the townhouses.
“Tony, you and Gentry take the courtyard between the units, and see if you can find a way in without compromising security. Davis, Jones, you cover them. Nicks, you clear any zoms you see coming from the park. I’ll stay here with Dr. Albert.”
Surprisingly, Lil didn’t argue at being left out of the action.
Thank goodness for Mack.
We moved toward the recycling center entrance, and were met by a latched gate—also chain-link—that was secured with a heavy-duty padlock. Nathan took one look at it and shook his head. Whipping out a Leatherman from one of his pockets, he proceeded to quickly snip away a section of the fence itself, large enough to allow me, Tony, and Gentry to squeeze through, one at a time.
Nathan followed, bending the section back into place.
The four of us looked both ways down the street. It seemed clear. Nathan nodded, and we took off, threading our way between cars and trotting to the other side. Tony and Gentry split off into the courtyard, while Nathan hoisted himself over the driveway gate with effortless ease.
I followed, not quite so effortlessly, but I managed to get my butt over the top, dropping down to the pavement with less than catlike grace.
“You check up top,” Nathan said, pointing to the peak of the driveway, “and I’ll check down here.” Without waiting for an answer, he headed into the shadows.
I threw a semi-sarcastic salute to his retreating back and trotted up the slope. As I did so, the noise level increased—a mixture of car horns, people shouting in several different languages, and the ever-present moans of the undead. The incline was steep enough that I h
ad to reach the top before I could see that the driveway ran back down the hill, to the next street over. It ended there with the same sort of gate we’d just navigated, also shut.
Which was good luck for us, since the gate was all that separated us from a sidewalk and street jam-packed with zombies—and yet more cars.
As predicted, the streets around and outside of the medical center were Ground Zero for mayhem. All the bite victims and people suffering from Walker’s had flocked there, and those who had died were reanimating to spread the joy. With the appearance of each new zombie, the chaos increased, until it was like the Zombocalypse in Sensurround.
A female zom slammed up against the gate, a petite Japanese teenager looking like something straight out of an anime with its yellow tights, neon pink mini skirt, and matching go-go boots. It was missing pieces of its cheek and jaw, blood splattering the multicolored layers of shirts. It saw me and opened what was left of its mouth, letting loose an ululating moan which was then echoed tenfold by the other zombies in the immediate area.
Time to get inside, and out of sight.
I quickly retreated downhill, out of Anime Zombie’s field of vision and looked for easy access to the townhouse. The only open door I found was the entrance to a laundry room. There were no other doors in the carports—just stairs with gates at the top leading to a courtyard.
Well, crap.
Heading back down, I met Nathan in the middle.
“No luck,” he said. I nodded, indicating the same.
We quickly and quietly hopped back over the gate. Nathan kindly gave me a leg up this time, before once again making it look as easy as stepping off a curb.
“Showoff,” I grumbled.
SAN FRANCISCO
He watched them from the shadows, paying particular attention to the tricked out babe he’d first noticed on Marina Boulevard. He was perched comfortably on the roof of the same recycling center they’d taken shelter in, and as far as he could tell, they still hadn’t seen him.
Interesting group of people, especially the one he’d seen taking down the three dicks on Marina Boulevard. He’d watched her progress into the Presidio, seen her join up with her group, and decided to follow. They had weapons and they seemed to have a destination in mind.
They had to be some sort of paramilitary unit—either that or LARPers who were taking things to a ridiculously realistic degree. Role-playing, he supposed, was one way to deal with a genuine zombie apocalypse, but somehow he doubted an amateur could have pulled off her moves.
He’d never really been interested in the zombie scenario, although a butt-load of his friends would go on for hours about how they’d fortify their residences or where they’d go to hole up when the undead rose. Some even had bug-out bags, and considering the possibility of a major quake or even a tsunami wiping out half of San Francisco, that in and of itself wasn’t such a bad idea.
He didn’t figure he’d need any of that shit, though. He could move—move fast and cover terrain few others could manage. It was a damned useful skill to have about now, considering how fast the streets of San Francisco had become impossible to negotiate. Within hours of the evacuation announcements, things had gone straight to hell.
This is some fucked up shit right here.
He’d left his car parked on the Golden Gate Bridge, radiator blown after it overheated. Heading out on foot, he’d moved with the crowds of near-panicked people massing up against a seriously scary military barricade at the north side of the bridge. Then he heard little explosions, and if those weren’t gunshots, he’d pull down his pants and ask for a spanking.
About then he’d decided to take his chances in the city.
Once he’d made the decision, it took a matter of minutes to navigate the same distance that had taken him two hours in his car. He’d kept a safe distance from what he had to admit was an epic battle at the Conservatory of Flowers, and that’s where he’d seen the babe really go to town. She had been like a human Cuisinart with those cool-ass Japanese-style swords. The little chick with her pickaxe and the tall dude with the sledgehammer weren’t exactly slouches, either.
He hadn’t been close enough to eavesdrop on any of the conversations, but he’d seen enough to figure out that they were probably the good guys. So he’d decided his best bet was to follow them at a safe distance—they had a couple of kick-ass snipers, and he didn’t want to be mistaken for a zombie.
Zombies. It still seemed like bullshit. But this shit, as they say, just got real.
So he’d trailed them to the recycle buildings, where he’d managed to pick up something about their intended destination. Then he’d watched as four of them went across the street—two of them, including Sexy Katana Babe, climbing over the driveway gate.
He shook his head at that. Poor use of energy, all that hoisting and scrabbling. Total waste of upper body strength. He’d show them how it was done... once he had a chance to properly introduce himself.
For now, he settled back to watch and wait.
CHAPTER THIRTY
* * *
We ran into Tony and Gentry on the street. Tony wore an expression of quiet satisfaction, while Gentry’s grin spread from ear to ear as he gave us a thumbs up.
We had to wait for the good news, however, as more zombies turned the corner on our side of the street, shuffling with painful slowness in our direction. I started to unsheathe my katana while Tony hefted his hammer, but Nathan shook his head and motioned us back toward the courtyard.
The four of us melted into the shadows, crouching under one of the staircases. I wished it was possible to speed up their progress, like time-lapse photography, because those damn zombies moved at a more glacial pace than... well, than a glacier. Finally they passed the courtyard without detecting us.
“Why are we not just killing them?” I whispered, my thigh muscles seizing up from crouching for however many minutes it’d taken the world’s slowest zombies to go away.
“To avoid detection.” Nathan rubbed his own legs to restore circulation. “One of ’em sees us, it’ll start with the moaning, and that increases the chance that more of them will show up before we have a chance to get inside and get some rest.”
“Your logic is sound,” I said.
“Glad you approve, Saavik.”
I flashed him a quick Vulcan salute, and turned to Gentry.
“So what’s the good news?” I asked.
Gentry grinned again.
“Our boy X-Box here got onto one of the patios and jimmied a sliding glass door open in less time than it takes you to decapitate a zombie. He came through, and now the front door’s unlocked.”
I gave Tony a considering look.
“You have a lot of experience with breaking and entering, Tony?” I was only half-kidding.
“My parents used to use a security chain to lock me out if I came home past curfew,” Tony said with a nonchalant shrug. “I don’t think they ever figured out how I got inside.”
“Well done,” Nathan said. He clapped him on one shoulder, and gave him an approving smile.
Tony turned red, pleasure mixing with self-conscious embarrassment. Nathan didn’t hand out compliments lightly, and this was the first time Tony had been on the receiving end. It was good to see him happy.
“Show ’em which townhouse it is, X-Box,” Gentry said. “I’ll alert the media.” With that, he bounded across the street, slipping in between cars like a particularly enthusiastic ninja, and then ducking back through the opening Nathan had made in the chain-link fence.
“Um, it’s over here,” Tony said, gesturing. He scratched his neck self-consciously and pointed toward the second townhouse on the right. The front door was propped open, and from its silhouette, it looked like he’d used your basic garden gnome, but without the peaked hat.
I raised an eyebrow. Upon closer inspection, it proved to be a garden Batman gnome, complete with painted six-pack costumed abs.
“You found this here?” I asked Tony.
“Yup,” he said. “On the patio, along with a Heath Ledger Joker gnome, and a really lame Robin the Boy Wonder gnome.” He shook his head sadly. “With nipples.”
It should have disturbed me that I knew exactly what he was talking about, but it didn’t.
Which disturbed me more.
“Was anyone inside?” Nathan sensibly didn’t address the gnome issue.
Tony looked embarrassed.
“I didn’t see anyone, but I didn’t really look. I thought I should get the front door open and let you guys know as quick as I could.”
“Good call,” Nathan said, and relief flashed across Tony’s face.
Maybe our boy is growing up. A week ago he would’ve been all sullen defensiveness. It just sucked that it took Kai’s death to kick-start the process.
“I’ll check out the upstairs,” I offered, anxious to take this party inside.
Nathan nodded his approval.
“I’ll check downstairs. Tony, hang out just inside the door, and keep your eye out for the rest of the team.” He drew one of the handguns he always carried—there were times I suspected that he showered with them. I had no idea what model it was—Nathan had his own special toys, doncha know—but I was obscurely proud of the fact that I recognized a suppressor on the barrel, so it was an automatic.
Put me on the cover of the next Girls with Guns. I grinned to myself, unsheathed my tanto, nudged Batgnome out of the way with my booted foot, and slipped inside.
* * *
SAN FRANCISCO
Something scraped against the faux granite flooring in the entryway.
“Did you hear that?” Becky clutched G’s arm, long, lacquered fingernails digging tightly into his bare flesh.
G winced, as much at the unwanted contact as from the fact it kind of hurt. He didn’t say anything, though—just held a finger up to his mouth in the universal gesture of “shut the hell up.” He had heard the sound, and it scared him with a near paralyzing fear that filled him with self-loathing.
The Dark Knight wouldn’t be afraid. He wouldn’t be hiding in a bedroom closet with some woman he’d just met, either. The Dark Knight would be outside facing the chaos, saving the helpless, and dispensing justice.
