by Steve Wands
Frankie neared the end of the bridge. He could see the railway that ran along the coast, cutting underneath the Tappan Zee. It was too high to jump down, but he was close enough to end of the bridge where he could escape it if he were alone by simply outrunning the dead. He looked back at the group. He could just barely make out Eddie and Joseph squatted behind a car. They were moving closer, but he knew he still had to draw the deaders further away.
He jumped over to another car and then another. A deader grabbed hold of his ankle in mid stride and brought Frankie down onto the hood of a car. He lost his breath and smacked his head down hard enough to disorient but he was able to kick away the deaders face as it went in to bite his ankle. Frankie broke free and scrambled up the car. He checked himself for a bite or scratch that maybe he wasn’t aware of. He found nothing. He moved to another car, and the horde of dead followed desperately.
A scream pierced the night.
Frankie turned to see what had happened but saw nothing.
Janice pulled Yussef by the arm as a deader from underneath a car grabbed at his leg, nearly pulling his sneaker off. The boy screamed again and Janice kicked the deader’s arm off and pulled the boy to safety. The dead thing grabbed at her too and she fell to the ground. Jon watched in terror as he ran over and dispatched the deader just right before it could bite down on her.
The horde that Frankie tried so desperately to lead away now splintered off. He was able to keep most of them entertained enough to stick around, but several deaders shambled in the direction of the others.
“Come and get it!” Frankie yelled, hoping to draw them back, but to no avail.
Eddie and Joseph stormed forward and went on the offensive.
“Let’s make this shit quick.”
Scott turned to the rest of the group; “I think the only way we’re getting out of here alive is if we follow Frank’s lead. We can’t fight them all. We need to move while they’re divided and while we still have the opportunity.”
“Fuck it, let’s do it,” Jon-Jon said, trying to psyche himself up and encourage the others.
He then ran toward Eddie and Joseph and hopped onto a small sedan, “Fuck them things guys, we’re gonna run for it.”
Eddie turned in disbelief as Jon-Jon jumped onto the hood of a Toyota Corolla. Following behind him was Scott, Judy, and the rest of the group.
“Holy fuck,” Joseph said, “this is nuts.”
Eddie then bashed one of the deaders in the face, knocking it back into the others, “Let’s do it. Get up there.”
Joseph cut into the line and hopped up on the sedan. Eddie swung again at the next deader, watching as Joseph helped his mother and Yussef onto the car.
“Today people, today!”
Chuck and Chung-Hee came over to Eddie and helped him take care of the first few deaders that were of immediate concern. The space was tight, but they were able to bash their heads into pulp as Joseph helped the rest of the group up the sedan.
After seeing the rest of the group hop onto the vehicles Frankie started moving away. The deaders were no longer so concerned with him and had spread out to go after the new meat that had presented itself. Scott and Judy both took off, leaping a few vehicles ahead of the rest of the group. Jon-Jon hung around to make sure the others were getting across okay, but by doing so he ended up slowing everyone down—effectively creating a bottleneck.
As the group was held up and moving slowly across the cars the deaders reached up. One grabbed Eddie by the pant leg and was able to pull him and cause him to lose his balance. The dead thing continued to pull and Eddie fell back and was pulled down and off the car. He hit his head on the hood and was pulled to the ground.
“Eddie!”
Chuck jumped down, kicking the deaders back. Chung-Hee jumped down and smashed the deader that had pulled Eddie down and was about to rend his flesh. Chung-Hee smashed its head into the ground, knocking out teeth, and pulled Eddie up to his feet.
No one else had noticed and continued moving forward. The three of them got back on the sedan and cautiously followed behind.
43 teeth and glass
(back to top)
The group had become very spread apart across the tops of vehicles. Frankie had made a break for it, jumping down off a truck and fighting off a few zombies till he was off the bridge. He was still a ways off from being off the road, but at least now he had greater mobility. He could see the others making it across the cars and wasn’t sure what to do next. He knew he couldn’t hang around. It would only make it harder for the others to get away unscathed.
The numbers of deaders was closer to two-dozen now and the majority of them were spread out trying to get the others. Frankie still had his admirers as well and he was eager to show them a good time, but bashing their brains out would only serve as a distraction. He was shaking with adrenaline as it was, so he knew he would get nothing from it either.
He started jogging down 287, trying to look ahead, hoping to find a light in the darkness. All he could see were a row of clogged tollbooths. Looming behind that and overhead was Broadway, looking as congested as the rest of the roadway. Then he saw it—the point where he knew they could get off the bridge and toward the marina—the roof of the toll offices.
He looked back, with hope glimmering in his eyes, and could see Scott and Judy not far behind now. They had made great time across the vehicles.
“Frankie, what are we doing?” Scott shouted.
“I think we can get down over here.”
“Lead the way, let’s go.”
“We can’t just go, I’m going to wait for--”
“Just go, we’ll only be getting in the way. Look how many of those fuckers are coming this way.”
“Go on then, I’ll stay here. Jump down and see if you can find us some wheels.”
Scott jumped down off a car, shouldering a deader out of the way, then turned back to offer Judy a hand but she had already jumped down on her own and was running ahead of her husband.
“Come on,” she huffed.
They ran over to Frankie who was near the guardrail overlooking the toll offices.
“It’s only a few feet down. Doesn’t look too bad over here.”
“It’s dark as shit man.”
“Yeah, but I don’t see any deaders and rows of abandoned cars do you?”
“No.”
“Scott, how about that utility truck?”
“As good as any. Let’s check it out.” Scott said as he hopped up and over the guardrail.
Judy took his hand and he pulled her over, catching her as she jumped down.
Frankie turned back to the others. Joseph and Jon-Jon were in the lead, hopping from one vehicle to the other easily and cautiously. Joseph was swatting away the deaders as Jon-Jon assisted Dawn, Alexis, and two kids whose names he couldn’t remember as they hopped over.
Several deaders had shambled closer to Frankie now. He was starting to settle down from his adrenaline rush, so charged over to one of the deaders and punched the pry bar right between its eyes. The dead thing grabbed his wrist but Frankie grunted and pushed the pry bar further in till the deader dropped to the gravel. He put his foot on its chest and pulled the bar out as black gunk dripped off of it. He then proceeded to hit it a few more times, but had to back up as the rest of the deaders drew closer.
“This is the worst…idea…I’ve ever…” Carrie couldn’t finish her thought. Her chest felt tight and she couldn’t get enough air in her lungs to catch her breath. Carrie hadn’t done this much exercise since she was a teenager and now she was wishing she’d at least made some sort of attempt. She was once a tiny peppy cheerleader, but now she looked—and felt—more like an ox.
As she was about to hop onto the next car a deader rose up and wrapped its arms around her leg. She screamed, falling forward, and smashed her face—open mouthed—into the rear windshield of the next car. Her face was cut to shreds as the window spider-webbed. She was barely conscious. Her mouth was oozin
g blood and spit. Several of her teeth lay amongst the shards of glass. She almost didn’t feel the deader gnawing on her calf.
Eddie ran to her, Chuck right at his side. He kicked the deader off the car and pulled Carrie out of the wreckage.
“Carrie?!”
She only mumbled. Her eyes were closed and she was making no attempt to wake up out of her stupor.
“Shit man, what do we do?”
Chuck shook his head. He didn’t know what do say.
“She’s as good as dead, man,” Chung-Hee said, coming up from the rear.
“You’re right.”
“So, we’re just gonna leave her?”
“I’d put her out of her misery if I could…”
The deader tried to climb up the car again, this time with a few more of its dead friends.
“No time. It sucks, Ed, but we got to go. At least she’s knocked out.”
Eddie’s eyes fill with tears, “Not quite.”
He lifted the tire iron high above his head, “Keep moving,” he told them, and then bashed her in the head enough times that when the deaders dragged her off the car and to the ground she wouldn’t feel a thing.
Another deader reached for Abdul but he stomped on its hand and then kicked it away. Chris still slept on his shoulders, jostling with every movement. Abdul didn’t know how it was possible, but he thanked Allah all the same.
44 SKIN MASK
(back to top)
Danni cradled the old man in her arms. The bleeding on his hand had pretty much stopped, not that he could really tell, but he felt a new sensation in his body. His stomach felt as if he’d taken a few shots of Wild Turkey and a bad headache was percolating just behind his eyes.
“It’s okay, Danielle, I’ll be with Lorraine again. We’ll keep an eye on you.”
“I know you will. You’ll both be happy again—it just sucks that this had to happen in here…now…you know? It’s just not fair.”
“Yeah, I know. I guess I figured I’d just die in a hospital bed. Warm sun coming through the window. A get well soon balloon tied to the foot of the bed. All the typical stuff.”
“Does it hurt?”
“My hand? No.”
“Not your hand, you know what I mean.”
“Not much.”
Davis was starting to feel guilty about the old man’s bite. His duty was to protect people. All he ever wanted to do was to protect people who couldn’t protect themselves. And for the most part he was happy with what he’d been able to do. But when he momentarily gave into despair and ignored their pleading for help he might as well have killed him himself.
He looked over at them out of the corner of his eye. He wanted to apologize, to offer some words of comfort, but he knew they would be meaningless. They were going to die in here and that was that. He resigned himself to that fate and closed his eyes, hoping he’d wake up dead.
Topher stared at the dead body in the cell. Whoever the man was in his former life kept himself in good shape. His neck was like a tree and his biceps were bigger than Topher’s head.
He stared at the gore and then to the dead. A crazy thought popped into his head and wondered if it was just plain crazy, or crazy to where it might actually work. He crawled over to the deader hesitantly. Nervous, he was afraid it would jump up and scare the shit out of him.
It didn’t. He looked over his arm, making sure he had no cuts or scrapes that he wasn’t aware of. Then he stuck his hand into the exposed cavity of the deader’s head and pulled out a handful of brain and goo that instantaneously made him want to vomit. He then began to smear it all over his arm. He reached in for more of the viscous contents and did the same—lather, repeat.
“Ohmygod, what the fuck are you doing? Are you insane?”
Davis opened his eyes.
“I have an idea.”
“Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“Possibly, but I have to give it a try.”
“Give what a try? Are you going to eat that shit?”
“What? No! I’m going to see if this can act like a camouflage.”
“Please tell me you have no intention of making a skin mask next?” Davis asked.
“A what?”
“Skin mask. Mask made out of skin. Like Ed Gein…serial killer.”
“That’s not a bad idea. But first just a trial test…if you will.”
Topher, content with the amount of gore covering his arm and hand walked over to the cell bars. He waived his hand around at the deaders seeing if they would grab it. Unsure if they were going after him or his hand he went closer. He stuck out both arms, almost mimicking the way they walk and from the looks of it, they preferred the cleaner arm. He moved closer, close enough to where they could grab him. They ignored the limb covered in human remains and tried to get his other arm.
“Ha! I think it could work.”
“You think covering yourself in bloody remains will get us out of here?”
“Well, I don’t think there’s enough to go around, but maybe. I don’t know if I want to cover my entire body in this shit. Especially my face, I can’t see a way around that without getting into my eyes and mouth, and then I’m sure that’ll get me turned into a zombie. But if you have any other ideas, please.”
“I got nothing, but if I were you, I’d clean that shit off.”
“Of course.”
Topher looked around the room. There was only the toilet.
“Detainees don’t need a sink?”
“Not in here they don’t. It’s just a holding cell for fuck’s sake.”
Giving a deep sigh he walked over to and knelt by the toilet. He reached his hands in and began to wash off the gore, flushing it down and trying to not to vomit. He wasn’t sure what was worse. Sticking his hand in a dead man’s head, or a toilet.
“I hope he doesn’t try wearing my innards after I go,” Clem joked.
Danni smiled at first and then the smile turned into a hard frown, “I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too, but we’ll see each other again I’m sure. You think they have reruns of Cheers in heaven?”
“In heaven, I would think they’d have new episodes.”
“Now yer talkin’.”
45 GOODBYE, NEW JERSEY
(back to top)
More and more people from the group were able to get to Frankie at the edge of the road. Frankie was directing them down toward the toll offices. He wanted to wait till Eddie was with him, but he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stick around. The deaders were continuing to make their way over to him, and no matter how much adrenaline was pumping through his veins he was exhausted. His blows were growing weaker and his arms burned as if he’d been lifting weights all day.
Moments later the rest of the group was visible. Eddie, Chuck, and Chung-Hee hopped from one vehicle to the other. Frankie waived his hands in the air, jumping and yelling, “Let’s go motherfuckers!”
Eddie looked up, as he jumped down from the last car before running towards Frankie and his deader admirers. He ran at him, clobbering a deader in the back of the head and knocking it forward with his tire iron as Chung-Hee ran atop of it, making sure it stayed down.
“This way. Over the side,” Frankie yelled as he straddled over the guardrail and jumped the few feet down.
Chuck didn’t even slow down to look before he leapt. He ran right up to the guardrail, planting his foot and then jumping into the air over the side.
Chung-Hee followed behind, though he and Eddie both paused before jumping off the side. Seeing it was clear and not that far down they hopped over and jumped down. Joining the others as they ran toward the toll offices.
***
Scott and Judy had found a maintenance truck parked out front. It could fit three people inside across the bench seat, and if everyone else jumped into the bed of the truck they might be able to fit. There were no keys inside the vehicle, so they went inside the building. Jon-Jon joined them and as soon as Joseph m
ade it down from the bridge he did too. Everyone else waited outside anxiously.
Scott opened the door slowly and quietly, trying to listen for any noise inside the building. On the outside it was a small building with a lot of windows, but inside it was dark and seemed cavernous.
They crept forward. Now trying to move fast, but without making much noise.
“Look for any keys,” Scott whispered.
Judy nodded, sweeping her head around the room, hoping they would just jump out at her.
“I’ll check these desks,” Jon said, skirting past them and to the side.
It looked like a receptionists desk. There was a charging station with several walkie-talkies and a telephone. An old bulky computer monitor took up most of the desk and a coffee cup full of pens sat next to it. No keys. He rummaged through the drawers—No keys.
Scott opened another door—this one leading to an office. The manager’s he figured by the looks of it. He doubted he’d find the key in there but he had to look. Judy stood by him, checking a row of cabinets as he checked out the desk.
Joseph looked around. He didn’t want to go about looking for the keys blindly. He thought about it, as if he were looking for his own keys, which he would always lose around the house. He always left them in his pockets—pants pockets, jackets, coats, things like that. If he just came in from driving the truck what would he do? Take off his coat. Get changed. Go home.
He spun around and then he saw it—a coat rack. Come on, please be in here. He rushed over to it. There were four jackets. A woman’s pea coat, a navy blue trench coat, a Carhartt, and a track jacket. He grabbed the Carhartt and rummaged through the pockets; a pack of bubblegum, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, a pen, and a set of keys.
“Yo!” He yelled, overly excited. “ I found a set of keys,” he said much quieter.
