by Drew Brown
Chris was sitting next to her and he grinned when he saw Budd approaching. He raised his hand to his mouth and drew deeply on a cigarette.
Juliette, too, had a cigarette in her hand.
“That’s bad for your health, sweetheart.”
She offered him a thin smile. “I do not think we need to worry about our health, Monsieur Ashby.”
“That’s what my ex-wife, Sarah, used to say,” Budd said as he occupied the seat beside her. “And now she’s dead.”
Juliette’s face flashed with guilt. “Your wife died of lung cancer?”
“She was my ex-wife by then. I’d given her a choice, her smokes or me,” Budd said, shaking his head. “She chose her smokes. Anyway, from what I heard, she’d just finished making out with some young, pony-tailed, muscle-bound stud-muffin when she lit up her usual post-nookie ciggie. The two of them fell asleep and she burnt down her apartment building. I always said smoking would be the death of her.”
“You’re full of shit,” Chris said.
Budd removed his Stetson, being careful not to disturb his bandage. He placed the hat on his lap and ran his hand through his hair, sweeping it back. “You know what, buddy? I really don’t give a rat’s ass what you think, so do me a favor and shut your cake-hole.”
“Screw you.”
Budd ignored the comment and put his hat back on his head. “Anyway, sweetie, I didn’t know you smoked.”
Juliette took a final drag on her cigarette and then stubbed it out into a porcelain saucer that was being used as an ashtray. “I started very young, but when I became a professional singer I stopped. My voice was too important for me to risk. Now it does not matter.”
Budd touched Juliette’s chin, softly raising her head so she was looking into his eyes and not at the floor. “Don’t give up hope.”
A small smile formed on her lips, but there were tears on her cheeks. “It is so hard, Monsieur Ashby.”
The door from the kitchen opened and Budd turned to see Sam and Frank coming down the corridor. The Californian had the nail-pliers. Before the pair arrived, Budd turned back to Juliette and winked. “Don’t worry,” he said, “this is just my nightmare, remember?”
“You two,” Frank said, pointing his one good hand towards Budd and Chris, “can you help us to shift this barricade? Andy thinks we should send a party to the roof.”
The two men nodded at the request, rising from their seats. Juliette stood as well, adjusting her tight leather bikers’ jacket. “I can help, too,” she said.
“Thanks,” Sam replied, tucking the pliers into his jeans as he squared up to the first of the filing cabinets. When Juliette bent over to lift, Budd caught the Californian examining her slim, petite figure.
Till then, I hadn’t really thought ’bout the whole man-to-woman ratio of our merry band of apocalyptic survivors. But it was definitely something with the potential to cause problems.
Especially for me.
Let’s face it; the doctor’s wife was now Juliette’s only other female companion, which was somewhat akin to leaving a Porsche and North Korea’s favorite national car unlocked in a showroom.
There was no doubt which one would be taken for an unauthorized test drive…
To break Sam’s line of vision, Budd stepped in between them, standing so close to Juliette that their knees knocked as they heaved the cabinet onto its wheels and rolled it away from the doors.
Swiftly, working under Frank’s supervision, the four of them moved the three cabinets out of the way and then Sam used the nail-pliers to take down the tabletops, stacking them in the corner of the room. The commotion attracted the doctor and his wife, as well as Father McGee, who sat in the corner of the staff room and sipped from his flask’s lid.
Andy arrived next, and immediately pitched in with the task.
The last to arrive was Carl. He entered the room alone and solicited sad looks from around the group. Not a word was said to him. He walked to the corner of the room, his axe clasped in his hands. The bandaged stump of his bitten finger was clear to see against the shaft.
All around the room, I could see people throwing suspicious looks at Carl, glancing at him when they thought he wouldn’t notice. They eyed what was left of his missing pinky, and his paler complexion, but no one dared to challenge him.
I guess he knew what we were thinking, but he was big, and he had his own issues to deal with, so I don’t think he was that bothered by what an elderly priest or hotel porter thought of him.
Oh, and did I mention how big he was?
“Now then, we’ve restored t’other barricade. There was no sign that anyone had tried to come up in t’lifts,” Andy said. From his tool belt, he unhooked his large set of keys and then inserted one of them into the lock. He didn’t turn it, but instead stepped away from the door. “I suggest a group of four or five of us go up to t’roof, while t’rest stay here. This door stays locked until we return.”
There were nods of agreement from the group, except for Father McGee, who cleared his throat before he spoke. “Are you sure that opening the door is a good idea? We’re safe in here, my son. Why can’t we wait and see what happens?”
Juliette slipped past Budd and walked up the corridor towards the kitchen.
“To t’south there’re three other skyscrapers, almost our equals in height, an’ we’ll be able to see them properly from out on t’roof. Also, we may be able to pick up something on t’radio, which I think is worth a try.”
Father McGee took a sip from his thermal flask, no longer decanting the liquid into the lid. “All right, my son. As long as you think that it’s for the best.”
“I do,” Andy said, visibly pleased to have consent within the group. “Now, Carl an’ Frank, I suggest you stay here with t’keys an’ keep this room secure. Budd, Sam, Chris, I’d like you to come with me.”
Sam nodded.
“Yeah, I’ll come,” Budd said eventually.
Some democracy…
“So will I,” called Juliette. She arrived back in the staff room, carrying an axe and a large meat cleaver. She handed the axe to Budd.
“Does that mean I don’t need to come?” Chris asked.
Andy nodded. “Okay, Juliette, you can come instead of Chris. But why don’t t’rest of you follow her example an’ arm yourselves with items from t’kitchen?”
44
“Ready?” Andy asked. Wordless grunts of agreement came from around the room. “Carl, I’ll leave t’keys in t’door. Lock it once we’re out.”
“You got it.”
With his left hand, Andy lowered the handle and pulled open the opaque door, revealing the stairwell beyond. The landing was perfectly still, and so were all the steps that could be seen. There was no sound except for the humming of the electric ceiling lights. The maintenance man ventured out, his hammer clutched at his side.
Sam followed him through the door, carrying the axe Carl had used. Juliette was next, armed with her cleaver, and last out was Budd, his axe resting upon his shoulder.
The door closed behind him and the key turned in the lock.
Carl was taking no chances.
After the sound of the door closing had echoed away, the four of them stood still, listening to the stairwell’s hollow noises. Their clothing rustled and their breathing was eerily loud. Andy pointed to the left-hand set of stairs, the ones that went up to the next level, and then started to move. To the right were steps that led down.
Stranded at the back of the small group, Budd decided that his decision to go last had been short sighted; he didn’t like it one bit now. When he reached the first step, he leant over the sturdy metal banister and looked down the central column, which was a square ten feet across. He was shocked by how high they were. His stomach churned and he fought the urge to recoil; the flights of stairs, ten steps on each and half-landings in between, seemed to run on indefinitely, gradually reducing in size until the whole structure appeared to merge into one.
Look, I kno
w I’m a pilot, and heights should be no problem for me. But remember—airplanes are designed to fly, while humans tend to just fall. Even if they flap their arms really hard…
He looked up and breathed a sigh of relief; there was only a single half-landing and then one more flight of stairs above them. When he pulled away, he left a sweaty palm print on the black rail of the banister.
Andy didn’t stop on the half-landing but carried straight on around and up the next flight of stairs. At the top was a small corridor that led to a metal-plated door.
One by one, the four of them reached the door. There was no handle or lock, only a horizontal push-bar across the door’s center. A sign above the bar read STRICTLY EMPLOYEES ONLY in big black letters.
“Ready?” Andy said.
“Let’s just get on with it, dude.”
Andy pushed against the bar, causing it to clunk and bang as the mechanism disengaged. The door swung open and a hiss of moving air slipped into the corridor.
Grey cloud filled the view outside.
Budd watched as the others stepped out. Even after several feet, they were still easily visible. The cloud was much thinner than it had been on the previous day. He followed after them and found the cloud cold and clammy, like his exposed skin was being pawed with wet hands.
He stopped with the others a little way out onto the roof, pausing in the shadow of the stairwell’s brick enclosure. He looked around, scanning the grey gloom for signs of danger.
The door from the staircase came up onto the southern end of the roof, facing north, and the expanse of stone tiles, coupled with the waist-high brick wall that surrounded the edge of the roof, prevented Budd from seeing anything lower down on the horizon. Beyond the northern side of the wall was the massive section of glass panels that formed the roof and walls of the restaurant. He placed his hand up on his Stetson, securing it against the gusting wind.
Sam spotted a wooden wedge that he kicked under the stairwell’s door. When it was fixed he looked at Andy. “So, like, what are these buildings we’re up here to see?”
“There’re three other towers. Two of them are banks an’ t’other is some sort of scientific center.”
Did he say what I thought he said?
Yep, he did. And here was me expecting a pokey little place crammed full with sweaty geeks. I definitely should’ve been earning more money…
“TimeTech Solutions?” Budd asked.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Andy said. He unhooked the radio from his belt and switched it on. He extended the antenna and then scanned through the static-filled frequencies.
“That’s why I’m staying here; I chauffeured some egghead in for the night,” Budd said wistfully. “I wonder if he survived.”
“Dudes,” Sam said, “is it me, or is the wind, like, moving in a totally different direction to the cloud?”
“Huh?”
The Californian licked his finger and held it up. “The breeze is coming from my left, but if you look at the cloud, it’s, like, moving the opposite way.”
Budd conducted the same crude experiment and, sure enough, the sensation on his finger was not what his eyes told him to expect. The cloud was moving against the wind.
“It’s probably eddies in t’air currents,” Andy said with a shake of his head. “The wind can play all kinds of tricks up here.”
Strange eddies or not, the sight of it gave me a serious case of the willies…
“What about the radio?” Juliette said.
“Still no luck,” Andy replied. He retracted the antenna and hung the device back on his belt. “We’ll have to wait for t’cloud to clear a bit more. Maybe try again later.”
“If someone’s transmitting, they might only be doing it intermittently. You know, like, saving power.”
“That’s a possibility,” Andy said. He turned and faced the other three, and when he spoke again his voice was lower, more subdued. “While we’re away from t’rest, I want to ask what you think we should do with Carl?”
Here comes the Infection Gestapo. No one is safe…
“‘Do with Carl?’” Juliette repeated.
“He’s been totally bitten,” Sam explained. “So, soon, he’ll be a zombie.”
“Do we know that for sure?”
“The doctor thinks so.”
“He could be wrong,” Juliette said.
“He could, but what if he isn’t? We need to take precautions,” Andy said.
It’s amazing what a pretty face can do. I’m sure that if I’d had stuck up for Carl it would’ve ended with me being strip-searched for bites. But Juliette, she just smiled sweetly and they started to back down. I’d never be such a sucker for a woman. Just ask any of my ex-wives. But not about my girlfriends…
“Perhaps we should talk to him and explain our worries. He will understand.”
“But, like, what if he doesn’t?”
“He will. I will talk to him.”
“Okay. That’s settled for now,” Andy said. He pointed to the south. “Shall we go an’ take a look at these buildings?”
Before anyone could answer, a series of frantic shouts tumbled from the open door of the stairwell.
They were closely followed by screams.
45
Budd rushed back through the door and leant over the banister, staring down into the gaping void. Again, his stomach churned, but he was unsure whether the feeling was caused by the sight of all the space between him and the eventual floor, or the panicked voices that came bouncing up the stairs.
Andy made the same move, extending his torso over the banister. His eyes scanned for the source of the sounds, but he saw nothing. “We can still get back to t’others.”
Budd grabbed Juliette’s hand and took off down the first flight of stairs, three steps at a time, until he rounded the corner of the half-landing. Here, Juliette tugged at his trailing arm, attempting to slow him because she could not match his longer stride. Reluctantly, Budd reduced his pace, but in no time at all he was on the second flight of stairs, his eyes fixed on the door to the staff room.
Sam overtook him on the last step. “Open up quick, dudes,” the Californian cried as he slid to a halt against the timber door. He beat it with his free hand. “Like, today would be nice.”
While they waited for the doors to open, Budd looked over the banister again.
Fear jolted his body.
Two levels down, a mere four flights of steps, he caught a glimpse of someone running up the stairs.
In a fraction of a second, the shape vanished from view, rounding the corner onto a landing; but there was another following behind, and then another. The screams and shouts were deafening in the confines of the staircase, reverberating up the central shaft.
Budd turned to find that the door was open and Carl had pulled Sam inside. There was no time to waste, but at the back of his mind he became aware that Andy was no longer approaching the door.
The maintenance man was standing by the banister rail, his attention held by what was happening below. “They’re people,” he shouted. “We have to help them.”
Budd gave Juliette a push, sending her into the staff room so that she was absorbed into the gathering crowd. He turned back onto the landing, his eyes flicking between Andy and the bottom of the next flight of stairs. “Come on, boss. There could be those things with ’em. We’ve gotta make ourselves safe.”
I hoped the tool-monkey was gonna see sense: we needed to be behind the locked door. Only then could we weigh up the option of letting strangers in. The screaming clearly showed that something was wrong.
Personally, I’d have turned off the lights and pretended no one was home…
“Come on, buddy. Clock’s ticking,” Budd called, but before his sentence was even finished, he knew his appeal was useless.
On the half-landing below them, a woman appeared. She waved her arms hysterically and her mouth opened and closed as she fought to regain her breath. “Help us,” she managed to say between gasps f
or air. She started up the last flight of stairs.
Budd realized that the time for them to shut shop and sit it out was gone: Andy was already heading for the new arrival, ushering her to the door. Others appeared on the half-landing, pounding up the stairs. He pointed Andy towards them and then grabbed the woman by the arm to hold her back.
Frank, Sam, and Carl stormed out of the staff room, long kitchen knives clutched as weapons, all looking to Andy for instructions.
Budd shook the woman to focus her attention. She was wearing a pair of cream pants and a white blouse, both of which were creased and stained. Her blue eyes darted to meet his. “Lady, what’s going on?”
“The monsters are chasing us,” the woman said.
Budd realized that Andy was standing next to him, listening to the conversation. “How many of you are there?”
“I don’t know, not many. Some are trying to keep the door shut. They’re further down.”
“Get inside,” Budd said, releasing his grip and pushing her to the doorway. “You hear that?” he asked, turning to Andy, but the other man was already focusing his attention across the landing.
“Frank,” the maintenance man yelled, desperate to be heard above the din, “fetch some wood an’ come with me. We’ve got to seal a door.”
Budd watched as Andy charged down the stairs, passing more of the new arrivals on the way. Carl and Sam started after him, heading down the stairs. Frank reappeared on the landing, two of the wooden tabletops clamped between his right arm and his body. His knife was balanced in his left arm’s sling.
There were less shouts and screams as the newcomers made it to the relative safety of the staff room, but Budd could still see another man and a woman, perhaps in their early twenties, coming up the final flight of stairs.
