by Sweet, W. G.
He came up from sleep fast, Jamie's face above him, her voice a low, panicked whisper.
“Wha... What... What?”
“Downstairs... It's downstairs,” she didn't finish, but she didn't need to. A crash came to his ears, but he could not tell if it was from the downstairs hallway. At least he hoped it was the downstairs hallway, not the stairs outside of their apartment, or, God forbid, even closer.
He jumped from the tangle of blankets, started to pull his shoes on, and then reached for his machine pistol instead as another noise came from the hallway. This time it did sound like the downstairs hallway; the steel gate that closed off the lobby. Billy thumbed the safety off the machine pistol and ran for the apartment door.
The hallway was nearly completely black. The hallway windows let in the light from outside, but it was very little. He slowed and felt his way to the staircase. He sensed her before his hand brushed against her.
“Don't you fuckin' shoot me, Billy Jingo.” Beth whispered tightly. A small penlight clicked on and he could see her leaning against the wall from the upstairs apartment.
“No,” Billy said. It was stupid, but he could think of nothing else to say. “Going down,” he told her. He made the stairs and headed down toward the lobby. Behind him Beth had turned out the light, but he could feel her following behind him.
The noise became louder as they made their way downward. Billy tried to count the steps as he went. Fifteen to the landing, turn to the right, feel for the banister. Fifteen more to the bottom, but he missed the last step. He had made himself count the steps just earlier that day in case he had to navigate them in the blackness.
He nearly fell before his foot found the floor and he regained his balance. He could smell them now though, hear them. Just fifteen or so feet across the lobby. He felt Beth’s hand brush against his back. A second later she pressed up against him and whispered in his ear.
“When I flick the light on them, just shoot!”
“But what if...”
“Fuck What if... Just shoot. Who do you think it would be, the fuckin' Avon lady?” Silence fell. The noise stopped. “Goddammit,” Beth muttered.
A second later the penlight came on. It was like a floodlight in the narrow hallway. The gate was broken, forced part way open at the top. Another few minutes and they would have been through. Six dead were transfixed by the beam. Two with iridescent red eyes that seemed to glow in the light from the penlight. Both snarled and lunged at the gate to force their way through to them.
His pistol was in his hands, but it was like the beam had frozen him too. He did not begin to fire until after Beth's pistol began to fire. The noise was huge. Everything in the closed in space. All six of the dead fell and they thrashed on the floor. It was over fast. So fast that Billy had not even thought to breath.
He stood frozen, looking at the dead. Two still moved. He walked forward and shot both of them in the head, one by one. The beam left them and moved to the doorway.
The aluminum door frame was buckled in the doorway. The safety glass had been smashed out and lay on the floor in one spider webbed sheet. Two heavy sledge hammers lay just outside the doorway. Another three were scattered among the dead by the steel gate.
“Son of a bitch,” Beth breathed.
“Jesus. You don't think they were using those, do you?”
“Are you fuckin' kidding me?” Beth asked. She shone the light up and down the door frame. “We'll need a steel door and a welder to fix that,” She said.
Billy nodded, realized she couldn't see it, and then spoke. “We can get one tomorrow.”
She brushed against him as she squeezed past and walked toward the gate. His arm felt on fire from the softness of her breast as she had slipped past him. She turned and looked back at him. “They almost got in.” She shone the light on the steel collapsible burglar door. It had been there for as long as she could remember, and she had lived in the building for several years. The top was nearly separated from the steel bracket that held the hinge mechanism. Billy got his feet moving, walked over and examined the top of the door.
They had hit it with the sledge hammer repeatedly. The steel had finally split, and it looked as though they had been trying to use sheer force to rip the rest of the bracket away from the wall where it was mounted. Billy stepped back.
“I think,” he began, and that was when a zombie came through the shattered aluminum door frame and slammed into the steel gate. Fingers shot through the gaps in the steel and clutched at Billy's arm. The Zombie missed the arm, but got his shirt sleeve and immediately snarled and began to pull back.
It lasted less than a full second before Beth’s pistol roared. The zombie's head blew apart in the narrow hallway, black zombie blood running down the walls.
“Got you? Got you?” Beth asked.
“No... No... No, I …” Billy couldn't find the words. Something moved outside the door, and he opened up on it. A second later there were four more Zombies flooding through the door. None of them made it to the gate, tripping over the other dead, and both Billy and Beth were firing immediately. One made it back out the door, a hole in its side that had blown away part of its spine as it had exited. Billy could not believe it was still able to move, but it was. Canted to one side, legs twitching as it ran, causing it to lurch from side to side. It disappeared into the darkness before either of them could get another shot in. The silence came back full.
“You have got to get your shit together,” Beth said quietly.
“I got my shit together,” Billy shot back.
“You never saw that one coming through the door. What if I hadn't shot it...”
“Well, fuck, if you hadn't... Never mind... Okay... I'll get my shit together.”
She said nothing.
“Okay... Okay... Does us no good to get on each other... None at all... We can fix this tomorrow.” He looked around the lobby.
“Help me for a moment?” he asked. He headed for a length of chain they had bought back to use for something. It was about to be re-purposed, he thought. As Beth held the light he wound the chain through the separated sections of the gate, pulled it tight and ran a short length of nylon rope through the eyes, tying it tightly.
He stepped back and looked it over. It would have to do until morning, her flashlight was already flickering, causing shadows to jump and fall on the walls. Batteries were getting tougher and tougher to find. He looked at his wrist and cursed low. Old habits died hard. Watches were worthless now. He hadn't worn one in a few days.
“I don't know either... I think a few hours until dawn,” Beth said. “That should hold for a few hours, at least slow them down enough to shoot them if they do try to get through it.”
“Well, I'll sit here and wait for it... All we can do,” Billy said. “Go on back up and get some sleep. I got this.” He settled back onto the step, sitting with his back to the upstairs.
Beth stayed silent for a moment and then came and sat next to him. “Got it with you,” she said. She sat next to him, and he immediately lost his words. Her arm pressed against his own. The flashlight snapped off, and the heat of her arm became everything.
“Billy?” His name whispered from the upstairs hallway: Jamie.
“I'm here until daybreak,” Billy whispered back.
Silence. And then... “It's safe?”
“They won't get past us,” Billy said.
She said nothing more. A few seconds later the door slammed upstairs. Billy sighed.
“Sorry,” Beth said. She was aware how Jamie felt about her. Jamie and Billy were not really together, but Jamie felt she owned him. Billy didn't help matters by staying with her, sleeping with her, yet not making it official, and Jamie knew Billy was hung up on her too, Beth knew. For that matter, so was Scotty. She wasn't interested in either of them. She didn't feel like she absolutely had to have a man to protect her, define her. Yet ironically, she reminded herself, she was doing the same thing with Scotty. Staying when she didn't feel th
e same, couldn't feel the same. “I better go up... keep the peace.” Beth said quietly.
“Yeah... I'm good here,” Billy said. He wasn't though. He wanted her to stay; he just didn't know what he could do to get her to stay. Nothing, he supposed. “I'll be good. Morning's not far away.” Her arm pulled away, and a moment later he heard her soft footfalls on the stairs as she ascended them. Billy sat quietly, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, his machine pistol in his hands.
The Fold
Jessie Stone's Journal
We have walked for days. The desert seemed never ending, plateaus, sand dunes, the bleached bones of cattle. The sun rose, the sun fell. On the fifth day we came upon the river. It was wide and deep and seems never ending. From then on we followed the river.
The place we chose is a long low valley with the river nestled between her walls. Verdant green fields poured away to both sides of the valley. I stood and looked down upon the land and although I said nothing, we were no longer searching for a home.
We set up a rough camp beside the river that first night. With those that we had picked up along the way, the Fold numbers just twenty-four souls. Within a week we will have rough shelters going up, we have already started. A long, low overhang, that can shelter us from the weather, and can become our home for the next several months as we build River Crossing. I, unfortunately, will not be one of the ones to build it. It will have to be done in my absence.
We had left word when we were in Snoqualmie, a quickly thrown together ramshackle settlement back in Washington State, that we would be pushing on toward the east coast. We have some of our own that stayed behind there, and so we will have to send word back, that we have stopped somewhere east of the old Texas border and will make this place our home: Things to be worked out.
We, myself, and a few others, will leave in the morning to push on to the east coast. I can't leave it like this. I have to know what is or isn't left. If we find nothing, we will make our way back here and collect those we find along the way, if we find others to the east, we will decide what to do then. I am only glad to write that there is a world outside of Washington.
About this world: It is in a very bad way. The governments are gone. There are dead rising, it defies everything I know as a doctor, but they are. We have come across the phenomenon several times. One of our own died under my care, turned and came back a few short hours later. I don't know what to think, except as we move through towns and the outskirts of cities that still stand the dead are there in ever increasing numbers. A note of interest, we have picked up a young doctor and added him to our group. Very fortunate I believe.
As we leave in the morning, another group will go back to Snoqualmie and get the ones who remained moving in our direction. I will keep this as we go. We hope to come back here before too long, and get River Crossing established before winter for The Fold.
L.A.
Billy and Beth: March 11th
Billy was up on the roof. Beth, Jamie, Winston and Scotty were standing at the edge of the building as he was, looking out over the city. Things were crazy, and they seemed to be getting worse as the days rolled by.
The police precinct was still burning. It had started sometime during the night two days before, and since there was no one to put the fire out, it had been raging for hours now. A few minutes ago, the roof of the building next door to the precinct burst into flames. Maybe the fire had started inside, or the extreme heat from the burning police precinct had caused it to burst into flame, spontaneous combustion, but it was a strange thing to watch. It appeared as though it had simply burst into flames all on its own.
The animated conversation about whether it had been spontaneous combustion or a fire source from inside the other building that had simply burned through, had kept up for a few moments, and then they had all lapsed back into silence. Beth spoke now.
“Where would we go?” she asked.
“I think southeast,” Scotty threw in.
“Why not north or northeast,” Jamie asked.
“Makes no difference, I suppose, but this winter it might. That's why I think southeast.” Billy said.
Beth nodded. “What's the radio say?”
“It's bad everywhere. Different people, different days, all talking about the dead. Some talk about the living too, gangs, shit like that, but the big deal is the dead. Every major city... Boston, Hartford, Manhattan, San Fran, Providence, Scranton, Miami... there are more. Every day you hear more places, and that's bad. But then there are the ones that you don't hear from anymore, and that's even worse,” Billy said.
“So how is southeast better?” Beth asked.
“Might not be better, as far as the dead are concerned: It might not be, but it will be warmer. I mean, no problem now, but winter isn't really over up north, and it will come again, and we had better be somewhere with our supplies settled in for it,” Billy answered.
Beth nodded. “All of us?”
“A few others,” Winston said. “Emma, down street. She has a baby. Don and Ginny across the street. They got a few friends too.”
“Babies... I don't know about babies,” Billy said. “Adults, okay. Children are bad enough, but babies? How do we take care of them?”
“Billy, should we leave them here to die?” Scotty asked.
“Fuck, Scotty. I didn't say that. Do we invite them along to get killed? I mean we're leaving the safety... Talking about leaving the safety of this building and going on the road.”
Beth raised her hand. “Scotty misspoke, or you mistook what he said. Can we agree on that?” Scotty turned away and then turned back and nodded. Billy nodded too. “Tomorrow... Tomorrow we scout it out. We need trucks... not a car. Something that can get us over the bad spots. And we'll have to see how far we have to go before we can hope to drive. We sure as hell can't drive here.” She shrugged.
“Tomorrow,” Billy agreed.
“Yeah,” Scotty added.
Beth turned and looked back over the city, watching the building next to the precinct burn.
Watertown New York
Forty miles to the west of Watertown a small caravan of Jeeps moved slowly through the morning light down a cracked and tilted roadway. The caravan had been forced to detour around several breaks and washouts in the pavement of the road. They had constantly been forced to stop as well, and push stalled vehicles out of their way.
They had spent the night in an abandoned state park that fronted lake Ontario. The water that had once lapped at the beach had retreated several hundred yards back, and the weeded and muddied floor of the lake lay naked and exposed. They had spoken little, and had not slept well. Several of them had been awakened during the night by vivid nightmares. The events of the last several days weighed heavily on all of them, and most of them were unable to shut themselves down far enough to sleep, preferring to push until exhaustion took them, forcing what they could not do naturally. After a quick discussion, they had left even before the sun had begun to fully rise over the water, and resumed their journey. Heading toward Rochester. They had seen a glow in the west the last few nights, and so they were hopeful they would find help there.
~
To the west, in the city of Rochester, the sun had risen slowly, revealing her quiet streets.
As the sun had risen, the street lights that had held the darkness back, switched off.
Small groups of people walked her streets as if lost. Some had lived there, but most had made the short trek from the surrounding communities. Others were on their way. Already there was a battle for control of the western New York city. Her power was still on and that made it an ideal stronghold.
The groups were trying to wait each other out, but shortly after sunrise the gunfire began between a group from the south side and another from the west. Most had no idea who they were fighting or even why they were fighting, they were unsure. As the battle began in earnest some groups began to join forces, and by mid-morning the entire city was under siege, innocen
ts caught in the crossfire or forced to flee.
~
Far above the Earth, satellites continued to orbit importantly.
The north American continent lay sleeping far below. A wide inland sea had formed in the middle, fed by a huge river that stretched from the former Hudson bay, to the Gulf of Mexico. The river, along with the inland sea, split the continent in two from ocean to ocean. Small in places and easily crossed as if it were no more than a river. Wide in other places as if it truly were an ocean.
The state of Alabama, which had lain directly in its path, was divided in two by the river where it made its way to the Gulf and into the ocean beyond. What resulted was the loss of the lower, southern half of the state. It now sat nearly forty miles out in a shallow bay that was quickly turning to sea: An island, the water surrounding it growing deeper as time moved on and the gulf reclaimed the land.
The smaller eastern section of the continent had already begun to drift. Although it was imperceptible, the two land masses were inching away from one another, and ultimately would be separated by a new ocean. And become separate, smaller continents.
The eastern end of the former United States, was also drifting away from the northern section of Canada. The massive earthquakes had also severed the state of Michigan, turning it into a virtual island.
Parts of Indiana had succumbed to the water too. And the states of Ohio, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Alabama, had been split in two, along with the upper western edge of the state of Florida.
Toward what had been the north, the St. Lawrence river had widened, pushing the land masses further apart. The Thousand Islands bridge spans had toppled, and slipped into the cold waters. The other bridges that had once spanned the mighty river, had succumbed as well, as the river basin had split and pulled apart.
The new continent had also severed her ties from Nova Scotia, as she had been pulled south and slightly east, to begin her journey. Only the province of New Brunswick, and a small portion of Quebec remained with the continent. The rest of Canada was severed from them by the wide and deep river, more like a huge lake in places, that surged from ocean to ocean.
