by A. P. Fuchs
“Under the pool table,” Rob said and went beneath it.
Joe figured might as well. If the place came down, they’d be squished, but if only part of the structure gave way, then having something above them to break the impact could mean the difference between life and death.
* * * *
Outside, a violent storm of dust erupted into the air several streets over from where Billie shot the dead. The bombers had flown their first pass and had taken two of the giants out, their enormous heads exploding in a ghastly rain of bones, black blood, and gushes of sloppy gray brain matter. Even from Billie’s distance, some of the gore had landed on her mech. It didn’t stop the undead though. Billie released the trigger and checked the ammo read-out on the console. She was down by a quarter and she must’ve fired off thousands of shots by now.
She turned the DK-14 and caught sight of a pack of zombies in the lower corner of her viewing window. Clunks and swats hit the mech as the undead tried to climb up it, bite it, grab it. Billie pressed down on the pedal and the mech started to move. Like a car, the harder she pressed the faster it went. Her legs were in it like a pair of stirrups that “rode” with the mech’s movement. Her readout said she was doing about thirty. Most of the undead had let go. A couple held on. One was on the Gatling gun. Billie raised the right arm and opened fire, shredding the creature’s legs that hung over the barrel. With the other arm, she wiped the half-torso off. The other zombie she managed to shake after running the mech a block. She backed up, stepped on its head, killing it.
She turned the DK-14 around and opened fire, marching on, back into battle.
* * * *
When an enormous crash from upstairs sent a chunk of the ceiling down and just missing the pool table, Tracy was glad at Rob’s suggestion of hiding out under here. She peeked out from beneath the side of the table and, with a chunk of the ceiling missing, was able to see into the restaurant above. Part of the front wall had come down along with one of the support beams by the main door. Already a thick cloud of dust had wafted into the restaurant and was sinking into the billiard room. If it got too dense, she and the others wouldn’t be able to breathe.
Dean already had his hand over his mouth, using it as a filter.
The chalky taste of dust settled on Tracy’s tongue. That was quick.
“We’re getting a move on,” Joe said. “There’s a back door upstairs. I’m going to quickly check and if there are no creatures, we climb and go, get some distance so we can breathe. We won’t last long down here.”
“Good thinking,” Dean said.
“I’m coming with you,” Tracy said.
Joe shot her a look that said, No, you stay here. I’ll be back in a second.
She ignored it and swatted him in the shoulder to get him moving.
The two climbed out from under the table and surveyed the damage to the room. A pile of rubble and debris from the fallen ceiling sat in a heap on the ground, but it wasn’t high enough for either of them to climb and get up to the second level.
Joe nudged her forward, gun poised. “We’ll go up on there, I’ll lift you.”
That was not a good idea. She might be rough-and-tumble around the edges, but a girl’s weight was a girl’s weight and she did not want Joe hoisting her. “Sorry,” she said.
“Too bad. I’ve lifted you before. Doesn’t matter.”
Right. Forgot. They got up on the heap. He bent down and grabbed her just above the knees and hoisted her up. She leaned her backside against his shoulder for support and was able to see into the upstairs of the restaurant. There were no rotters from what she could see, but the place was trashed so she wasn’t certain.
“Hard to tell. Everything’s everywhere,” she said. “Get closer. I might be able to climb up.”
“No.”
“Then I can’t tell you if it’s safe.”
“Fine.” He took a few steps closer, holstered his weapon, then with both hands gave her a big boost. Tracy was able to grab onto the broken corner of the ceiling, careful to take hold of where the flooring met the joists where possible for extra support. She pulled herself over the edge, rolled over once for safety, then stood. The noise from the battle outside was even louder up here, the dust worse as well. She covered her mouth; her eyes began to water. The entire restaurant was now a mess of tables and chairs. The bar up here was covered in broken booze bottles, the pictures from the walls on the seats beneath them. Even the awesome art piece of John Lennon, Bob Dylan, Mick Jagger, David Bowie and Neil Young on the wall was splattered with blood. Over her shoulder at the fore of the restaurant, through the broken wall, one of the giants lay in a heap on top of the partially-demolished parkade across the street. Its head was a giant crater of gore and bone; its huge hand was close to the front of the restaurant, its fingers still twitching.
A low rasp came from behind her.
“See anything?” Joe called from below.
“Hang on a sec.”
She walked a few steps and saw a rotter behind the bar, a short one. It climbed over the bar, looking at her the whole time. It was a kid, probably four years old. Undead children were hard to face.
“Sorry,” she said, lined up her shot, and took the young zombie down. She scanned the room again, then yelled down to Joe, “I think that’s it.”
The whistle of what had to be a missile sung through the air. The explosion and enormous crash afterward made Tracy instinctively throw her hands to her ears. The ground shook and she fell backward over a fallen chair and smacked her head on the overturned table beyond.
“Tracy?” Joe said from below.
“Fine,” she said, but wasn’t sure if it was loud enough. That bump on the head stung like the dickens.
“Tracy?”
“Coming,” she said louder.
The ground shook some more. She went to the edge to climb back down to the billiard room. Joe was facing away from her, gun aimed. She leaned over the edge enough to see along his line of sight and saw there was a big hole along the wall that buckled and cracked when the ceiling came down.
Joe fired off a shot the moment a rotter stuck its head through the hole. It went limp, but already decaying gray hands were clawing past its fallen comrade and trying to get in. Joe shouted for the others to get out from under the pool table.
Over his shoulder, he called, “Tracy, help them up.”
“I’ll try, but you’re going to have to boost Rob and Dean.”
Joe fired off another shot.
The rest of the group gathered around him.
“There’s lots,” Joe said.
Tracy looked up to the broken wall toward the front. Fortunately, the main restaurant was a good ten feet above street level so at least the dead didn’t have direct access to it. It wouldn’t be long until they started climbing, though.
“Hurry it up,” she said.
Rob lifted Jessica and Tracy pulled her over the edge. Below, Rob told Joe to just keep an eye on the hole and he’d lift Dean. He did and Tracy had to dig in with her legs and back up as she held onto Dean’s wrists and pulled him up.
Rob turned around and Tracy thought he was going to tell Joe it was time to go, but instead the big man spun Joe around and started lifting him to the edge.
“What are you doing?” Joe asked.
“You go first.”
“Stop it.” But it was too late. Joe was already in position to grab the ceiling. With a grunt, he pulled himself over the edge and then got on his haunches and reached down to Rob. “Grab on!”
“You go,” Rob said.
“What’s the matter with you?” Tracy said. “This is no time to be a hero.”
“I’ll run interference. You guys go.”
Undead faces started popping up near the open front wall.
Joe said, “We’re running out of time. Grab on. Don’t be a—”
“Go!” Rob disappeared from view.
Tracy called down, “We’re going around the back.”
; Rob didn’t reply.
Joe dropped onto his side and peered down into the hole. “Crap,” he said and drew his gun and fired off a shot. “Idiot,” he said quietly. He stood, took Tracy by the arm, and they started toward the back.
“Is he . . . ?” she asked.
“They grabbed him. I shot one. Was too late for the other.”
“That’s too bad. I liked him, from what I knew of him.”
“Sorry, Tracy.”
The back door was already open, probably having been kicked in at one point prior when the looters had their heyday. They went through. The back alley was clear. They headed straight across the alleyway and into the parking lot beyond. The dust on the air was so thick that Tracy couldn’t wait to finally find a clearing.
After they traversed the lot, they hit the street beyond.
“Head down to the river,” Dean said. “We’ll follow that.”
Tracy agreed. It was a safer route unless there was something there she wasn’t expecting.
* * * *
31
It’s About Time
The DK-14 had been crowded by a horde of the dead again, nearly knocking it over. Billie had been able to shake most of them loose and shoot the others. For a short while there she let a few hang on and bite at the metallic hull, letting their rotted teeth crack and break until she was able to smash them against a wall or parked car.
The comm. had been quiet for the last ten minutes or so. She tried raising people on it, but was met with silence, even from the squad leader. As for Sven, her heart ached to think of what might have become of him. She was truly looking forward to getting to know him more and, maybe, dating him. Ignoring the forming tears, she motored on, shooting down every creature she set her eyes on.
Explosions and the whistles of missiles went off around her.
An enormous foot set down in front of her; the entire cockpit shook. She pressed down on the pedal and used the mech’s momentum to climb up and over the giant’s foot and land on the other side. She kept it going full throttle, the giant’s hand just missing her as she maneuvered out of the way.
Another mech stepped in and opened fire on the giant.
“It’s a waste,” she said into the comm.
The mech kept shooting. The giant reached down, picked it up, and threw it like a baseball. It crashed into the remains of a fallen building.
Billie checked the ammo read-out. A little under half down. She’d purposefully stayed to the perimeter of the dead for easier targeting and her own safety, but it still looked like she hadn’t made a dent in their numbers.
Loud booms from cannons thundered; her Gatling guns whirred at high pitch; the steady rat-a-tat-tat-tat of machine guns added to the din. Visibility low due to the enormous amount of dust on the air, she took the mech further away and hoped the excessive dust wouldn’t interfere with the DK-14’s performance. She hit a road gridlocked with abandoned vehicles. With a press of the pedal, she took the mech up and over the cars, leaping from one to the other, the mech’s powerful mechanical legs making light work of the obstacles.
The next thing she knew, she found herself by what was left of Earl’s Restaurant, and saw a pack of zombies beneath the neighboring railway bridge. Heading over there, she fired and killed them. There were more on the left a further ways down. She went over and did the same.
“This is for all the times you nearly killed me,” she said. “This is for August and Des. This is for Sven and Bastian.” Oh Sven, I hope you’re all right.
The dead were obliterated by a maelstrom of bullets. Blood and flesh burst into the air like liquid fireworks. Billie kept on, shooting anything that moved. Everything. If it had legs—was that . . . people? Up ahead, coming out of the Exchange and heading toward the river? Hard to tell. She mashed down on the pedal to head over there, Gatlings at the ready in case they were a pack of monsters.
* * * *
The chalky taste of dust in Joe’s mouth made him yearn for a drink of water. He knew he wasn’t the only one dying of thirst. They found a bit of booze at the billiard’s bar, but nothing thirst-quenching. The little bit of Sailor Jerry rum he had took some of the edge off, though. Even made him feel pretty good. Too bad the river was polluted with all that gray rainwater.
Loud thunks thumped along the pavement, sending vibrations into his feet. Down the road was what looked like a huge robot barreling toward them. Was he seeing things? Did his body need water so bad he was starting to hallucinate?
He tapped Tracy on the shoulder and pointed toward the robot. “Tell me you don’t see that.”
“See what?” she said, then turned around. “Oh. That.”
Joe held his gun aloft. Tracy did the same along with Dean. Jessica held her sticks out. Joe didn’t have the heart to tell her they weren’t going to help.
The big robot ran up to them, arms laden with—Gatling guns?—aimed right at them.
“Tell me I’m not seeing this,” Dean said.
“You’re seeing it,” Jessica said.
The robot’s arms lowered, followed by a mechanical whirring sound. The—what now Joe realized was a cockpit hatch—on the front torso of the thing opened. He squinted against the dust on the air, gun still ready to blast the head off of any—
“Joe?” came a female voice.
Me?
“Joe!” His name came out more like a shriek than his actual name. A short girl climbed out of the cockpit and came through the dust fog.
“Billie!” Joe said, dropped his gun and ran toward her. He wrapped his arms around her and picked her up and spun her around before setting her back down. “Are you serious? It’s you?”
“I can’t believe you’re alive. I thought . . . maybe . . .”
“No, I made it.”
“I’m stunned,” she said, “but thank God.”
“Yeah.” Joe couldn’t help but just stare at her. She was a different girl now. Her hair’s natural color was showing at the roots—dark brown, it seemed—her glasses were gone, her face dirty, and she had a strength about her that she didn’t have before. “What about August?”
Her eyes went soft and she pressed her lips together as she shook her head.
Joe’s spirits sunk and a hollow hurt filled his heart. “How?”
“Not now,” she said. “Please?”
He licked his lips, tasting the chalky dust anew. “Okay, later then. I just . . . I just can’t believe he’s gone. I held out hope for both of you.”
She hugged him. “Thanks. Just know that . . . that he didn’t die in vain.”
It made him feel a little better, filled him with a sense of pride. A guy like August—wise, gentle, caring, a leader—he deserved a dignified death and Joe wasn’t surprised in the least that that was how the man made his last stand.
“Come, meet the others,” he said.
She sniffled, said okay, and he led her over to the group.
“Everyone, this is Billie.” Gesturing to the others: “Tracy, Dean, Jessica.”
Billie gave a small wave. “Hi.”
Tracy said, “What is that thing?”
Billie looked back at the robot. “It’s the DK-14-something-or-other. It’s a mech exoskeleton. Super long story. I’ve been everywhere, and I’m not exaggerating.” She didn’t take her eyes off Joe.
“Okay, let’s keep it simple. How’d you get here?” he said.
“There’re planes over there” —she pointed— “and we had a couple thousand men battling the dead. I’m not alone. Lots of the men are dying. One of mine—two of mine—are gone. One for sure. I need to find the other. His name is Sven. He’s huge, German, blond hair, driving what looks like an enclosed motorcycle.”
Joe arched an eyebrow.
“Trust me, Joe.”
“If you say so.”
Billie thumbed back in the direction she came: “As you probably know, most of the horde is downtown—down-downtown—and the giants are being taken out, but Joe—you know there’s more to th
is than what we see, right?”
He nodded. “Don’t worry. I told them everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything-everything.”
“Their formation had been a pentagram. I saw it from the sky when I first flew over.”
“That thing flies?” he asked, pointing to the mech.
“No, the plane. Now listen. When we got separated, and after August—in the end, I met an angel—”
“The same one from before?” He was too overwhelmed to get excited, but was glad that at least there was a shining light to all this.
“Yeah, I should’ve said our angel. In the end—Joe, this is big: those zombies, those demons, they’re not alone here anymore.”
“What do you mean? What else happened?”
“I don’t know how to say this so I’ll just say it. Just brace yourself: I saw the devil, and he’s here on Earth. He’s behind it all.”
A shockwave went through his body head-to-toe. His legs grew weak. The others stared at Billie in stunned silence.
“I saw him come through this portal,” she said, “and I felt his evil even from where I stood, which was far away. I don’t know where he is now. Frankly, I don’t want to know, and I wasn’t sure I was going to tell you if I saw you, but after seeing that pentagram from the sky . . . . We’re in some serious trouble.”
Heart beating rapidly, Joe was at a loss for words. It was to be expected, her news, but that she actually saw it—he flashed back to his time in Hell and shuddered at the memory. Now Hell had come to Earth, even worse than the zombie invasion which, it seemed, was actually a possession.
All he could say was, “Where’s the plane?”
* * * *
Billie led the procession in the direction of the large aircraft, shooting anything undead that came in front of them. A few gunshots echoed behind them as the others took up the rear.
It felt so, so good to see Joe again. His hair had grown since she last saw him, but she recognized that hard-edged face of his, one forged from hunting the undead, one carved from pain. Yet he now had this twinkle in his eye. Something had changed, but she wasn’t sure what.
