by M. Lorrox
She can feel every healing wound. My abs—they cut me deep. My legs... My arms. This one is broken. Why didn’t these doctors set it while I was out? She looks at it and grabs around the crooked break with her other hand. She grits her teeth and pulls out along her arm, pulling the skin around the bone and pulling the broken bone out from its crooked position.
The pain she allows to flow through her isn’t a lightning bolt like before—it’s a thunderous crashing wave—stallions tearing down a track—an avalanche at midnight. She rides the pain, and when she feels she’s at the top of it, she slams the bones back together in line.
The pain is a supernova that silences everything else in her world, but she doesn’t scream. She doesn’t blink, nor grimace. She only stares at her image in the mirror and snarls. Her eyes grow dry, but she continues her unflinching stare at the ghost of the person she used to be. Is there any of me even left?
Her eyes find the beaded necklace her grandfather gave her, long ago, hanging at her neck. She reaches up and touches it, feels the familiar smoothness and ridges between her fingers, then glances back at her face in the mirror.
She shakes her head at what she sees. First my eyes… Now, I’ve lost everything else.
I’m not me anymore. But I am, me... I’m new.
Nothing will ever be the same, ever again.
Her pain and sadness swirls inside her. As she stares beyond the point of needing to blink, she thinks about the person she used to be—the way she used to look.
She sees the holes they drilled into her body diminish, her cheeks regain their softness, her hair flowing over her shoulders, and her eyes—her eyes stay the same green-and-silver. Brown. My eyes should be brown!
She smashes the mirror with a hand. She pulls the bloody paw back and inspects the arm. Those holes are back. She looks into the shattered mirror and sees fragments of her true image. She opens the door and walks back to the bed. She sits on it and looks at the door because there’s a doctor in the hallway approaching.
She waits until he is just outside the door and raising his hand to knock. “Come in.”
Wren twists her body to watch the Chinook helicopter fly overhead. She turns back to Jackson, who is still rolling. Still live. “A very large helicopter—I’m not sure what kind, but it had two sets of rotors—”
“It was a Chinook.”
Wren nods. “What my cameraman recognizes as a Chinook helicopter just flew overhead toward downtown. We have to remember that while we wait, pray, and hope, there are brave men and women in our nation’s military that are risking their lives to protect us.”
Up in the Chinook’s cockpit, Charlie scans out the windshield more than he assists Danny with the flight controls.
“See anything?”
Charlie points. “Is that it? You said it had a big dome on top?”
Danny nods. “That’s the Natural History museum.” He approaches and they slow. “That their bus down there?”
“Yeah, has to be.” Charlie watches a zombie crawl out of one of the bus’s broken windows. It lands on the ground awkwardly, but it quickly gets up and runs off. Charlie swallows. “Let’s loop around to the other side.”
Danny pushes the cyclic and presses on the foot pedals, and the giant helicopter leans and turns. On the other side—the north side of the museum—is Constitution Avenue. It’s overflowing with stopped cars. “What a shit show.”
Charlie bites his lip. “Maybe we can land on the roof? It looked flat.”
Danny spins the aircraft and points it south. “This is a big bird. I could pinnacle, but we probably can’t set down.”
Charlie scans the ground for a place to land, but the only option he sees is on the zombie-swarmed grasses of the National Mall—hundreds of feet from the museum. We’d be wide open. Can’t lead kids through that… “What’s a pinnacle?”
Danny switches his left hand to the cyclic so he can illustrate the technique with his right hand. He holds his free hand flat, then he tilts his fingers upward. “It’s where you set the ass-end down and drop trough, but the nose stays up, lifted by the front rotors. I hear it’s a real badass maneuver, but it’s real tricky, and I’ve never done it... Are you even listening to me?”
“Barely. Circle around the museum again, will ya? Get in as low as you can; they need to hear us.”
Danny scoffs. “Believe me, they hear us.” He circles the building, once, then pauses. The nose of the helicopter points south. “What’s the plan, Colonel?”
“Hold on.” Charlie squints through the windshield, past the National Mall, to the building on the other side: to the Smithsonian Institution Building. Why would the top of that little tower be on fire, while the big tower below it isn’t…? Could Korina have moved everyone? Across that whole distance? No way, that can’t be them. He sighs and glances back down to the National Museum of Natural History. “Do another loop, but slower. I’ll watch the windows. If they heard us, maybe they’ll smash one and wave or something.”
At the Downtown Command Post on top of the FAA building, General Riley shoots his arm at the Chinook hovering across the Mall while he shouts into the microwave relay transmitter, “What do you mean you have no idea who sent the Chinook? Do we even have any of them in service nearby?” His eyes flash wild, and his nostrils flare. “Rickman, tell me what the fuck is going on here!”
“I’m sorry, sir, I’ll have to ask the other bases. No one informed us about sending a Chinook.”
General Riley screams through clenched teeth. “Find out! All it takes is one idiot, and we can lose containment. We can lose everything!” The general snorts, and the two engineers in the tent with him watch him perform the classic Riley move—he tosses the handset skidding across the desk. “Goddamn motherfucker! What the hell are they doing? This quarantine will work! Goddamn it, it has to work! FUCK!” He storms out of the tent then turns back. “Yell if you receive any news!”
“Yes, sir!” The engineers reply in unison.
As General Riley turns in a circle, looking for the marine, Specialist Klein slaps a twenty into Specialist Smith’s waiting hand and whispers, “I really thought he’d slam it down. I mean, if there was ever a time for him to break, I thought this would be it.”
Smith pockets the bill and shakes his head, then whispers, “Oh, no, that was your first mistake. He’s already broke, just hasn’t fallen to pieces yet.”
Danny finishes the loop and once again holds position. “What’s the plan, Colonel?”
Charlie clenches his jaw, not because he’s angry, but because he doesn’t know what to do. “Uhh… Hmm…”
Danny sighs. “Charlie?”
He turns to face the older-looking man. “Yeah?”
“You said your daughter is trapped down there?”
He nods. “With a couple dozen kids, and chaperones…”
Danny turns to lock gaze with Charlie. “Are we turning back and leaving them?”
“What? No, of course not—”
“Then give me an order.”
Charlie frowns and glances away. Once again, the distant blaze across the Mall catches his eye. “Fly over to that castle looking building; I want to get a closer look.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Chinook circles the higher tower that Skip set the signal fire on. The people below, in the office inside the South Tower, hear the air being beaten and whipped by the large helicopter. Lance and Jambavan are fighting the zombies as they come up the spiral staircase to the office, and everyone else huddles away from the door—chaperones forming a line in the front.
More and more smoke fills the office.
Skip rushes to a window and catches a glimpse of the slight silhouette the dark-green helicopter makes against the inky sky. It has to be for us…and if it isn’t, well, we can still get noticed.
He feels eyes looking at him from inside the room, then he turns around to the opened door to the staircase. Beside it, to the left, the windows face north.
He rush
es to the windows that look out over the main section of the building, and the roof is only a few feet below. He lifts the Smithsonian Ceremonial Mace and holds it over his head, then he smashes it down against the huge window and drags it to the stone sill—breaking the window and clearing broken glass all the way down. “Get on the roof! Adults make a circle around the kids, we’re getting on that chopper!”
Jambavan punches into the skull of yet another zombie as Skip yells his plan, and he smiles for a moment. Then, a new group of zombies burst into the stairwell and growl up at him.
Sadie stands in Gerard’s and Vincent’s hospital room, and she folds her hands at her waist. “Yes, I was hiding in the room with Hamid when he interrogated Robert, but I had no idea he was going to resign, let alone appoint me to be his temporary replacement.” The remaining members of the High Council—Bruce Tittensor, James Cartwright, Vincent de Villablino, Eliza Leroux, and Philip Simonsen—are all gathered before her.
Eliza shakes her head. “Elder Costanza, you have to understand my skepticism. An hour ago, you were looking for votes to join the High Council, then you and Hamid spend some time together, and now you’re the interim prime minister? Robert and Mary, it seems, are out of the picture. Hamid steps down and is clearly damaged in some capacity, and now you are thrown into the foreground. Your husband is Commander of the Guard—our bodyguards—which is the most highly regarded group of knights in the Order.” She shakes her head. “This could easily reek of a coup.”
Sadie listens and pauses a moment to show that she feels the weight of Eliza’s words. “I hear you, and I see the possible conflict of interest with my husband overseeing your security.” She finds Vincent’s eyes. “If the War and Defense Cabinet agrees, I’d like to have my husband’s commission withdrawn.”
Vincent smirks and shakes his head while thinking of Charlie. “I’m sure he’ll be devastated to hear the news. As it stands, before Zaman resigned, I sent Charlie out on a mission and delegated his duties to his next officer in command, Major Schermer. I agree with Elder…pardon me, with Prime Minister Costanza, and I will transfer the role of Guard Commander permanently to Major Schermer.”
Sadie nods her head to him in a slight bow. Carles, you so owe me... “Councilor Leroux, may I call you Eliza?”
She nods.
“My family is well known, and indeed, has held a seat in the House of Elders since its founding. While I have held my family’s seat, I have strived to place the needs of the Order ahead of my own. I had no ambition of joining the High Council, but was asked to take a more substantial role by my friend Mary—who I hope with all my heart is safe. I will not refuse the wishes of Hamid, even though they are not my own. I intend to serve in the capacity asked of me, during this time of crisis. I hope that my performance in this position will honor the tradition of service not only of Zaman, but also of loved prime ministers past and of my family’s heritage.” She gestures with her hands out in front of her body with her palms faced-up, in asking. “I hope you will give me the opportunity to help, and that you will trust and honor the role I will play as I serve.”
Eliza glances to the eyes of the other high councilors. They’re smitten by her oratory skills. Her having helped rescue us, certainly only improves their assessment of her, but what is mine? …I can’t tell yet. “I will honor Hamid’s wishes and support you.” …For now.
Philip clears his throat. “I’d like to make a statement. It may be known by rumor that the Costanza family and I haven’t been the closest of allies since my regrettable involvement with prior War Cabinets and their actions. I have apologized publicly in the past for this, but I’d like to clear the air here today. You all know that I have also been a close friend to Robert. I had no idea he was turning his back on us, nor on me. I regret his actions more than you can know, and I affirm that I had no knowledge of them. I condemn his treachery.”
He pauses, then he steps toward Sadie. “Mrs. Prime Minister, if you feel that my presence on the High Council is an unwelcomed one—for my past history with your family, or my past friendship with Robert—then I will resign. As the prime minister, interim or not, you must feel that you can trust the High Council. I place my continuation of service on this council into your hands.”
Other high councilors bite their tongues and hold their breath.
“Thank you, Philip, for that heartfelt apology and offer. I will not ask you to resign. What we need now—in face of the treachery and dishonor that others have brought upon us—is trust and unity. Hamid trusted you, and I will continue that trust.” She scans from eye to eye across the room. “He trusted you all, and so will I. I ask that you do the same in return.”
Nods and silence fill the room.
Sadie clears her throat. “Moving on. The High Council is short two of the most important chairs: of the Foreign Affairs Cabinet, which Mary was chair of; and of the Internal Affairs Cabinet, which Robert was chair of. We could appoint elders to the High Council and into these roles, but because they are the two cabinets with the greatest responsibilities, I wonder if an experienced high councilor would better serve as their chairs.”
Of all the high councilors present, Vincent holds the office with the highest authority. He clears his throat. “In times of war, my cabinet should not feel unnecessary change. I shall continue in my position.”
Philip raises a hand to get everyone’s attention. “I’m familiar with the position Robert held, and I can volunteer to fill in as chair of Internal Affairs.”
“Vincent, I respect your decision. Philip, I approve of this change. Eliza, I believe as chair of Trade and Commerce, you would be next in order of authority. Would you like to take over Mary’s position as chair of Foreign Affairs?”
She nods. “I believe that would be wise.”
“Very well. I would now ask if Bruce, chair of the Treasury, would mind filling Eliza’s old chair. The treasury, I expect, can most easily accommodate a new chair.”
Bruce nods.
Sadie finds James, the last of the high councilors to be addressed. “Your chair on Culture and Histories is technically of lower authority than Philip’s opened chair on the Advancements and Studies Cabinet. Would you like to assume that new position?”
He shakes his head. “No, but thank you for the offer. I’m a historian at heart; I’m right where I belong.”
Sadie nods. “Very well. We need to promote two elders, and they will oversee the Treasury and the Advancement and Studies Cabinet. Does anyone have suggestions as to whom might best fit in these roles?”
“I believe it may be wise to ask for volunteers.” Vincent sniffs as he readies his hands on his wheelchair. “May I bring the elders in? They should be waiting in the hall and have likely heard everything we’ve discussed.”
“Oh yes, thank you. But please, don’t bother yourself; I’ll get the door.”
Skip leaps through the South Tower’s smashed-open, north-facing window. He runs onto the main building’s roof and waves his arms wildly up at the helicopter while he jumps up and down.
The Chinook pauses its loop, then it spins its front towards Skip. They see! Okay, now what? He glances at the South Tower, then he runs back to help the others. Harold stands at the window, scowling as Skip returns. Harold flips open a latch and opens the window Skip smashed. He extends the large window’s frame—now rimmed with broken glass—out of the way.
Skip sighs. “Whatever, c’mon!”
The roof section beside the South Tower is only as wide as the tower, and like any good roof, it’s slanted with a peak in the middle. Holding the mace in one hand, Skip offers his other hand up for people to take while climbing out.
Harold grumbles while taking the offer.
Katlyn is next to climb down. She glances at the helicopter hovering in the distance, then back at Skip. “Fingers crossed they can rescue us, and the sun has set; kids should be fine out here.”
Skip nods and squeezes her hand. “Good. Make sure the adults form a perimeter.�
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She squeezes his hand back, then moves off the narrow section of roof and onto the much larger roof of the main building.
When Skip helps Frank the bus driver down, he notices that Frank has the rifle slung over his shoulder. Korina said no shooting until the end, and this feels like it might be the end. “Frank. Let’s trade. I’m a decent shot.”
“Sure, I’m not the best. Here’s two more mags—you’ve got twenty-four shots total.”
“Thanks.” Skip slings the rifle across his back and sticks the extra magazines into the back pockets of his jeans. Frank joins Katlyn and Harold on the main section’s roof, and together, they plan the perimeter as the helicopter approaches on the east side.
Skip helps the last of the Smithsonian employees down. Next come the chaperones and kids. The adults hand the children down to Skip, then they jump down and walk with the children to the main roof. When Jennifer passes Minnie to Skip, she latches onto him and won’t let go. Skip looks up at Jennifer and shrugs. “Hold on a sec.” He turns around and yells, “Frank! Can you relieve me?”
Frank runs up and takes over for him as vampire-kid receiver. Skip steps off to the side as Frank helps Tommy down.
“I’m really scared, Mr. Skip.” Minnie squeezes Skip’s neck tightly, smashing Valentine’s face into his cheek.
He pats her back. “I’m scared too, Minnie, but right now, we have to be brave. You have to be brave for Valentine, so she won’t be scared. Can you do that?”
“I’ll try, but she’s scared too.” Minnie moves a hand off Skip’s neck, and he feels relief that she’s no longer threatening to choke him out. Then she screams in his ear, “ZOMBIES!”
Skip spins and sees zombies on an adjoining roof to the east running toward the group. “Tighten the circle! Kids in the center! Jambavan get your ass out here!” He tears Minnie from him and passes her to Jennifer.
