by Dave Brown
She felt cold fingers brush against her neck and time seemed to stand still. She knew the other zombie had noticed her. She knew it was groping at her neck and that any moment she would feel its teeth first pinch, then tear into her skin. She knew she was as good as dead. When another shot rang out and the fingers disappeared, she was quite surprised.
Patty looked up and saw Jones standing next to her. “Nice goin', Pat,” he said. He was smiling, not the cocky self-assured grin but something warm and perhaps even appreciative. She worked the hammer out of where it was stuck and then took his outstretched hand, letting him help her to her feet. She looked down at the three corpses on the ground and then walked slowly to the back of the group. She could feel all their eyes on her but she didn't care. She found a wastebasket, dropped the hammer next to it, doubled over and retched. Nothing much came out but she couldn't stop herself. She heaved four or five times before her stomach finally settled. Finally she crouched on the floor and took deep breaths with both eyes closed.
A hand settled gently between her shoulders, then rubbed in a slow circle. It felt so different than the fingers at her neck just a moment ago. Warm. She started to cry.
“I miss Pablo,” she said, her voice weak and shaking.
“I know, honey,” said Anne's voice, and the rubbing on her back became an embrace. “I know you do.”
Chapter 30
They continued to make their way through the lab, clearing rooms as they went. After the incident with the three creatures coming out of the closed room, they slowed the pace a bit. Anne stayed toward the back with Patty. She would have preferred to take her friend out of there, back to the barracks, but Jones said they shouldn't split up. Instead she walked slowly with one arm around Patty's shoulders, a few paces ahead of Errol.
They came to a room where the door and the wall facing the hallway were made of clear material. The door was marked “BIOLOGICAL STORAGE” and Anne could see that the space housed several refrigerators. Each one contained dozens of little sample containers.
“Oh no,” Harry said, gazing through the window wall. He darted to the door and entered a code into the pad above the knob. The door opened with a hiss and he darted inside. “No. No no!”
“Keep your voice down,” Jones hissed at him. “What's the problem?”
“One-eight-three is gone,” Harry said.
“What?” Greg exclaimed from where he was leaning against the opposite wall. “How can that be? Everybody was in the specimen lab.”
“Not everybody,” Errol said behind Anne. She knew immediately whom he meant.
“I didn't tell her to do this,” Seung said.
“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, agitated.
Everybody was looking at Seung. He sighed heavily. “My assistant, Miss Devoux. She was keeping an eye on Mister Pelozar and was unaccounted for when we left the barracks.”
“Is one-eight-three the decomp bug that works?” Hayes asked.
Greg nodded, then hobbled over to the transparent wall and pressed his face against it. “One of the portable coolers is gone,” he said.
Anne looked at a floor-level shelf filled with small red coolers. There was a gap in the otherwise well ordered row. “At least she had the sense to keep it cold,” she said.
“Room's clear,” Jones said, “Let's keep movin'.”
“But... the work,” Harry sputtered.
“Is gone,” Seung finished, “and we are not getting any safer just standing here.”
There was no further argument. They continued along their planned route until they rounded the final corner before the specimen lab. The door was shut fast, its red “Authorized Personnel Only” legend nearly invisible in the emergency lights. There were two corpses on the floor next to it. The first was unmoving, a gun in its hand and a ragged black hole in its temple. The other was busily chewing on the dead man's legs. The red light disguised the blood for the most part, but Anne could tell it was a mess. The zombie was missing everything below the waist. She remembered what Greg had said about jumping over a Z stuck in the door. The door must have finally won.
“Hey,” Jones said, just loud enough to be heard by the creature. It raised its head and moaned, that awful cemetery sound, and then started to haul itself along the floor with its hands and elbows. Seung reached back and took Hayes' weapon, a sturdy carving knife from the barracks kitchen. Anne understood they were trying to be quiet and realized why. They had no idea how many hungry dead people were in the room ahead. One gunshot this close could have them all clamoring at the door, waiting for it to open. She supposed the shots they had already fired were just as loud, but here they had the opportunity for a quiet kill. No sense in wasting it.
The wretched thing made it down the hall faster than she would have expected, but still nowhere near the speed of a zombie on foot, let alone a live human being. Seung waited for his moment, poised in a half crouch with the knife held in his right hand. The zombie reached out to swipe at his legs, missing by less than an inch, and he struck. It was almost too fast to see, one step and a vicious downward thrust before pulling back again. The thing lay quiet, truly dead at last.
There were two more side rooms to clear but both turned out to be empty. That brought them to the final door. They all grouped together a few feet away and talked in low voices.
“How do you think we should proceed?” Seung asked, looking at Jones.
“Use the bottleneck to our advantage. Open it, get their attention, back off. We've got plenty of room to run and there can't be more than fifty of those things.” Jones turned his attention to Greg and Harry. “Does that door open into the room or into the hall?”
“The room,” Greg said. His voice sounded strained. Anne thought his leg must hurt like hell.
Jones nodded. “Yeah, that'll do fine. We pop the lock. If it won't open we know they're all over it and we gotta go another way. If it does open we just drop one and they all get in line. Easy.”
Anne doubted it would be that smooth and looking back later she couldn't decide if she had been right or not. Jones and Seung went up to the door while the rest of them waited back at the bend in the hallway. Harry called out the code to them and Seung keyed it into the lock. With Jones aiming at the door, he turned the handle and pushed. It was heavy but he got it open a crack and then backed away. Anne could see Jones twisting his head, trying to see inside. He glanced at Seung, who nodded once, and then leaned against the door. It swung slowly open as he pushed through, keeping his gun pointed into the room. Seung aimed and followed as soon as there was an angle available. The group waited breathlessly as the two men walked deeper into the room and out of sight. There were no moans, no shots, no screams. When Jones reappeared at the door and shrugged theatrically, Anne couldn't suppress a nervous giggle. “They're all dead,” he called.
A minute later they were all together inside the specimen room. All the cages were closed, half of them filled with the ravenous dead. One cage had two live people in it. They were standing eagerly at the wall that would let them out, talking to Harry. The floor of the room was littered with bodies. Anne stepped over them to get closer to the cage with the people in it. Their names were Ahmed and Xia.
“Antoine was working down here with Greg,” said Xia. “When those jackasses let the Z's out, he told us to get in here and then hit the alert button. The walls came down automatically.”
The creatures in the cages behind them pounded and scratched at the walls, trying to get at the food that was right in front of them. “Can't you get us out of here?” Ahmed said.
“Greg's working on clearing the alert. It takes time,” Harry said.
“Errol,” Jones called and Anne went over to hear what he had to say. “We counted 'em up. We're one short.”
“Are you sure?” Errol asked.
“We counted twice. It's two if you count Renee but I doubt she's even on the island anymore.”
“So who's missing?” Anne said.
�
�Nobody move!”
Everyone turned toward the voice that shouted from the back of the lab. Later Anne would think about that moment, how the voice had told them all not to move, but they all did. She wondered how often she had seen something like that in a movie and never paid attention.
Juan Pelozar was leaning out of an equipment locker in the back of the room, pointing a gun at them with his left hand. His right was clasped firmly around his stomach. He was wounded.
“Juan, you arrogant ass. Look what you've done!” Seung shouted.
“Shut up, Jin. I was trying to protect our people. They had these things locked up down here. Anything could have happened.” The man took a staggering step out of the locker.
“Were you bitten?” Greg asked.
“Yes,” said Pelozar. “Now give me that cure you developed and we'll get this mess cleaned up.”
“It doesn't work that way. It makes them decompose. It doesn't kill the virus,” said Greg
“Bullshit!” the man shouted. “I know what you've done here, Sammy.”
Sammy? Anne thought. He's delirious.
“Look! I'm bitten, too. Do you think I wouldn't take the cure if I had one?” Greg said, sounding angry.
“Give it to me or I start shooting. I've got plenty of bullets left, enough for all of you. Then I'll find it myself.”
“We don't have it, Pelozar,” said Greg.
“Uno,” said the man.
“Listen to him, Juan!” shouted Seung.
“Dos.”
A shot rang out and Anne jumped. She looked around frantically, trying to see which of her friends had been hit. They were all doing the same. She looked back at Pelozar and saw the man slumped against the locker, a tiny hole in his forehead, just above the bridge of his nose. Jones and Seung both whirled around, apparently already aware of the shot's origin. Anne followed their eyes and saw Renee Devoux sticking out of a ventilation duct near the ceiling, a tiny pistol gripped in her hands.
“Thank you, Renee,” said Seung.
“My pleasure, sir. Been waiting eight months to do that.”
Third Respite
Errol sat in his barracks room, transfixed. The light through the window was dim but growing brighter every minute. It shone down on the sleeping form in his bed. He had never sat and watched a woman sleep before. It was an amazing experience.
A glint of brighter light caught his eye and he looked at the dresser next to the bed. A pair of black slacks and a crisp shirt lay folded there, a belt coiled up on top of them. The sun had reached just the right angle to reflect off the buckle and into his eye. He shifted his head slightly and the shine disappeared, but he continued to look at the clothes. They were the nicest things anybody could find for him, much nicer than the grubby work clothes he usually wore. There was going to be a memorial later that day for the people lost in the lab the week before. The fleet had arrived only yesterday but there were a large number of New Taiwan citizens coming for the service. Pelozar may have been arrogant, but he did have his supporters.
Errol pushed the thoughts away and looked back at the bed. Her face was turned slightly away from him, so he could just see one side. Brown hair spilled away from her ear and onto the pillow. He shifted his eyes slowly away from her head, moving down her body. A blanket covered her from the shoulders down but it rose and fell with the contours of her shape. His focus reached the end of the bed, where her left foot stuck slightly out of the blanket. The big toe occasionally twitched, making him smile every time.
A folded piece of paper slid under the door to the room. Errol rose from the chair as quietly as he could and went to pick it up. It turned out to be a handwritten list of vessels that had decided to leave: Widmung, one of the former spinal ships of New Taiwan, and about a dozen smaller craft. Each entry listed an approximate population. He would need to incorporate these changes into his program. Harry O'Neil had gladly accepted his help in designing logistical models for the influx of new people.
“Good morning,” Renee said behind him. He turned around and saw she had rolled toward him and propped her head up on her left hand.
“Hi,” he said. “Did I wake you?”
“Not really. I'm a light sleeper. What are you reading?”
He waved the note lazily in the air. “Population data. Somebody just dropped it off.”
“That can wait,” she said and pulled the blanket back, revealing herself to him. “Come back to bed.”
So he did.
Part 4
The Sub, The Coast
Chapter 31
Lyla Patrice Warner, who had never gotten comfortable with her given name and been simply Patty since the age of five, lay on her bunk and flirted with the idea of coming awake. She had been up late the night before working with George on a refueling rig so the Folly could service Jimmy and Lana's plane. The sun shone through the small round window of her room but it wasn't high enough yet to fall on her face. Her right eye drifted open now and then, watching dust motes suspended in the round shaft of light.
“Patty? You awake?” came a voice from outside her door. George.
“No,” she said, but she was already sitting up and swinging her legs off the bunk.
“Having a problem with this shut-off valve. You want to take a look?”
She didn't, not really, but it was her job. “Yeah, I'll be down in a few minutes.”
His footsteps thudded away and she stared at the floor between her feet. If she closed her eyes, she would see a human head there with the skull caved in. Sometimes it would be a woman she didn't know. Sometimes it would be Pablo. She decided not to close her eyes. After changing out of her night clothes and pulling on a grease-stained coverall, she was ready to go.
On her way to the workshop where she was supposed to meet George, she was nearly bowled over by someone coming the opposite direction. “Oh, gosh, I'm sorry,” he said. He was younger than her but not by much. His sandy brown hair stuck up at odd angles and his plaid shirt was half tucked into faded blue jeans. “It's Patty, isn't it?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Albert, right?”
He nodded back. “Sorry about that. I'm still getting used to these narrow corridors.”
“No problem,” she said and pushed past him. The Folly had undergone a few changes to her crew with the fleet settling in at Midway. Bill and Emmy moved to Sand Island along with a handful of others. In addition to the departures there were also a few new arrivals. Albert and Xia from the clinic had volunteered to serve aboard, and there was little doubt Renee Devoux would be staying on as well. The combination of new and missing faces brought a fresh melancholy upon Patty. It was like the Folly was becoming just a ship again and not a home.
Her mind drifted back to that day when she first spotted the distant hulk of HMS Illustrious out the window, and even farther back when the thought that they would never find anyone else alive had nearly driven her to suicide. Now, barely four months after the day she lost Pablo, it seemed that she couldn't get away from new faces. “Be careful what you wish for,” she muttered as she neared the workshop.
The problem with the valve was one of those things that just needed a fresh pair of eyes. After pointing it out to George, she made her way to the galley to find some breakfast. Jones was there, maps spread before him on one of the tables. Patty approached him and looked down at the curling paper.
“The West Coast,” Jones said, though she could see that clearly enough. “We're leavin' as soon as y'all get the refuelin' rig finished.”
“Back to the mainland?” she asked.
He nodded. “They've been cookin' up lots of that super bug. We're gonna go spread it around.”
“You mean... we really might get rid of these things?” As she said the words she was surprised at how flat they sounded, how neutral. She pondered for a moment. Did she really not care? Jones didn't notice her introspection, his attention still focused on the map.
“That's the theory, anyway. They say if we introduce enough,
it'll spread on its own.” He looked up at her. “Five years and we might be livin' the high life in Vegas.” He put on his signature grin and she looked abruptly down at the maps. She'd seen that smile in too many disturbing settings lately.
“Well, we're almost done. Probably be ready for a real test this afternoon.”
He put a hand out on her shoulder. “Hey, Pat, you okay?”
She backed away from the table. “Just a little tired,” she said and walked out of the galley. Her appetite had left her.
Patty's prediction about the testing turned out to be accurate. Just after two o'clock she helped George run the fuel line over the side of the ship and down to the DHC-3 Otter with the Russian/Canadian maple leaf painted on the tail. Once Jimmy Hong plugged it in, they fired up the pump. Ten minutes later the plane's tanks were topped off and George was high-fiving Errol over a successful test. Patty just looked out at the ocean. She wandered toward the bow and stared at the other ships in the fleet, clustered around Midway Atoll. She had no idea how long she'd been standing there when a hand on her arm startled her.
“Oh, Lana,” she said after spinning around and taking in the little pilot.
