The Breadwinner Trilogy (Book 3): All Good Things

by Stevie Kopas

“You get your second wind?” Gary looked to Andrew.

  “More like my fourth or fifth.” Andrew leaned forward, breathless, a solemn look on his face. “I’m one of them.”

  Gary nodded. “They don’t attack you anymore.”

  Andrew inhaled deeply, wincing. His whole body hurt. “I don’t know how much longer until I’m not me anymore, man.”

  Gary looked at one of the dead lying at his feet and frowned, imagining Andrew’s face on the corpse.

  Andrew straightened and put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

  “Right.” Gary motioned for him to follow and they continued their journey toward the dealership.

  ***

  “That explains the smell. I was beginning to think it was you,” Gary whispered in the darkness.

  “Hilarious.” Andrew shook his head, and although it hurt to, he was able to smile at Gary.

  The two looked on in awe at the home made security system of eaters which surrounded the front of the enormous car dealership. They’d been corralled and confined to block anyone from getting in or out of the building’s front entrance.

  “Amazing,” Gary muttered. “I’m actually impressed. That explains why the bastards inside are in such good shape.”

  “There’s gotta be hundreds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many all together like this.” Andrew shook his head.

  “Get down!” Gary ducked behind a van and pulled Andrew down out of sight.

  A silver truck turned the corner and tore ass down the street. Gary narrowed his eyes, turning to Andrew. “Where could they be going at this hour?”

  “I don’t know, does it matter?”

  “I suppose not.” Gary ran a hand over his bald head, sighing. “You know what you need to do, don’t you?”

  Andrew nodded, considering how the dead no longer noticed him. He knew there was a purpose behind the bite. He truly was going to be able to set things right before he met his end. “Everything happens for a reason.”

  Gary smiled and took the bag of weapons from Andrew, fishing out two of the pipe bombs, handing them to him. He placed a firm hand on Andrew’s shoulder. His mouth was a hard line.

  “What about Veronica and Catherine?” Andrew’s voice wavered.

  “Trust me, they wouldn’t keep those two near any exits,” Gary reassured him. “Once the deed is done, and I have a clear path, I’ll make my way around back, catch them off guard. You and your dead friends, go right through the hole you’re about to blow in the place. Let’s end this madness.” He squeezed the man’s shoulder.

  Andrew returned the gesture and clapped Gary on the back, closing his eyes and smiling through the pain searing through his flesh as the deadly infection worsened. “It may be that the Lord will look upon my misery; and restore to me his blessing, instead of his curse, today."

  “I’ll see you again.” Gary returned the man’s smile. He wasn’t sure what Andrew’s words implied, but he trusted in Andrew’s belief in his God’s mercy.

  “Yes, you will,” Andrew replied as he moved out from behind the van’s cover.

  As he crossed the street, he wrinkled his nose; the smell of the dead was growing stronger. He swallowed hard as he approached one of the security turnstiles.

  No going back.

  He slipped through, the metal clicking loudly. The dead did not turn toward the noise; they continued to mill about, bumping into one another, hissing and clawing at their own as they impeded each other’s aimless walking. As Andrew grew nearer to the front of the massive crowd, the dead were more alert to the humans inside the building. The generator-powered lights shone brightly in the night, a beacon for the dead. Andrew pushed his way through the eaters. He was surprised at how calm he was amidst the rot and decay. They groaned and growled as he shoved himself past them, but quickly lost interest and returned their blank gazes to the lights.

  A barricade had been set up to keep the dead from getting to the doors. Andrew chuckled to himself; the dead really were that stupid. He grunted as he moved the steel CrowdStoppers out of the way. They’d been piled atop one another, an admirable approach to fencing in the walkway that led to the front doors. One of the large pieces clattered to the pavement and Andrew cringed as the crowd of dead grew agitated. They moved forward with him to the door, bottlenecking into the alcove. Andrew noticed the large generator just inside the safety of the walkway and behind it, a long row of gas cans.

  He laughed at his luck. “This is gonna be awesome.”

  Andrew tapped loudly at the glass doors. He recognized the leader of the group and the skinny guy with the shitty tattoos immediately.

  He grinned when he saw them, waving, pipe bombs in hand. He quickly set them at the foot of the doors and pulled the long grill lighter from his pocket. Once the fuses were lit, he quickly pushed back through the vicious crowd and took cover. There was only one thing that bothered him: he wouldn’t get to see the looks on the skinheads’ faces when the bombs went off.

  VIII

  The blast briefly lit up the night, collapsing the structure at the front of the dealership. Gary didn’t pause to have a look at the damage, but he sprinted across the street, seeing his window of opportunity with both the dead and the skinheads distracted. He made his way around the side of the smoking building, stopping only to scale a fence at the back lot. As he got to his feet and headed for the back steps, a man caught him off guard.

  “Not so fast,” the skinhead said, bringing up his rifle.

  “Oh, fuck off.” Gary was quicker with his pistol and quite frankly, sick of running into roadblocks. He pulled the trigger and the skinhead dropped to the asphalt, a pool of blood forming around his head, brain steam rising in the winter air.

  Gary marched toward the back entrance; he was ready for anything.

  ***

  As the truck sped toward the dealership, Catherine grew more nervous. She fumbled with the knife in her jacket pocket, sliding it open. King’s eyes grew wide as he pulled the truck up and put it in park. Part of the building was on fire and eaters, crawling over the unmoving and charred bodies of others, poured into a gaping hole caused by the explosion.

  “I have to get Veronica,” Catherine said, tears forming in her eyes.

  “Like hell you do, I’m out of here. This place is fucked.” King brought his hand back up to the shifter. “You’re comin’ with me.”

  “I’m going back for her!” Catherine slapped his hand away from the knob and was met with a back-hand to the face. Unfazed by the blow and enraged for the final time, Catherine ripped the knife from her jacket pocket and thrust it into the center of King’s throat.

  King’s hands flew up to the knife as he choked, blood gushing down his neck. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as Catherine removed the knife, a final spurt of blood spraying the steering wheel before his head slumped against the window. Catherine sat for only a moment more, staring at King’s unmoving body, convincing herself she’d done the right thing. She took a deep breath and threw the vehicle’s door open, charging toward the back lot.

  Stray eaters, drawn to the building from all the commotion stumbled toward her; there were too many. She changed course and headed for the other side of the dealership only to run into more of the dead. She back pedaled and considered the front. The windows to either side of the entrance were blown out and too high for the dead to walk through. The fire, for the time being, was contained to one area.

  “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  Catherine breathed deep as she crept toward the blown out windows, the eaters here far too distracted to know she was lurking just behind them. She sprinted for the large window frame and pulled herself up, minding the glass. Her jacket tugged hard, snared on something, not allowing her through. She struggled against it, from the position she was in it wouldn’t be easy to slip out of the jacket.

  Panicking, she grabbed the knife from her pocket and pulled the fabric tightly, cutting a
t the cloth. The eaters had noticed her now. Their moans grew closer and Catherine whimpered, her eyes flicking back and forth from the approaching dead and the jacket. She worked the knife, faster and harder, and the fabric finally tore and gave way.

  But just a moment too late.

  Rotting teeth sank deep into Catherine’s calf, clean through. The grip on her foot loosened as the eater pulled back to gobble up the fresh chunk of flesh. Catherine wailed and kicked, freeing her leg and toppling into the building. She crashed to the floor, crying out in pain.

  She wriggled out of the jacket and cut one of the sleeves off. She tore her pant leg and inspected the bite; it wasn’t bleeding as badly as she’d anticipated, but damn, did it hurt. She wrapped the sleeve tightly around the wound and stood, grimacing through the pain. She was angry, but she accepted the death sentence. She gripped the knife handle and limped toward the closed office door.

  “That was quite a show you just put on,” Drake’s voice came from somewhere in the dark office, startling Catherine. He flicked on a lantern and sat, bleeding from a head wound, his clothes tattered, holding a half-empty bottle of liquor in the corner of the room.

  Catherine cringed at the sight of him, no longer afraid, just disgusted. She hobbled toward him as he took a long swig from the bottle.

  He wiped his mouth and reached down beside him, grabbing his rifle. He slid the bolt back and pointed it at her.

  Catherine laughed, continuing toward him. “I’m already dead, asshole.”

  Drake roared with laughter, putting the rifle back down and held out the bottle.

  She grabbed it and took several gulps. It burned down her throat but would help to dull the pain in her leg. Her chest was filled with an instant warmth.

  “Where’s King?” he asked, taking the bottle back.

  “Dead.”

  Drake sighed. “That’s a shame.” He took another swig from the bottle. “You shouldn’t have come back here, Doc.”

  Catherine ignored him, and turned to leave, but Drake snapped forward and grabbed her wrist.

  “Oh come on, seriously?” She pulled her wrist free and drove the knife down hard into his big thigh, giving it a twist. Drake wailed in pain. “There’s your fucking knife back, douchebag.” She grabbed the rifle and raised it up, backing toward the door as Drake shouted a stream of cusswords at her.

  Catherine decided she’d rather know he burned to death in this shit hole than do the bastard any favors. She lowered the weapon and let herself out of the office.

  ***

  Michelle and Veronica toppled to the floor as the explosion tore through the building, the glass walls of the office spidered and cracked. The gas cans and generator were ignited, adding to the chaos as the building was cast into darkness. Drake’s men hollered all around and gunfire followed as the hungry wails of the eaters invaded their ears.

  This shit-show went to hell real fast, Michelle thought as she sprang to her feet, dodging Veronica’s arms as she reached out for her legs.

  “Not today, kiddo.”

  Michelle ran into the lobby, leaving Veronica behind. She scanned the turmoil, the flames growing along the left wall lit the room enough for her to see that it was time to go. Drake’s men struggled with their weapons in the poor lighting and were caught off-guard by the dead as they overran the building. She headed for the back door, some of Drake’s men smart enough to do the same.

  As the cluster of fleeing people neared their exit, the door flew open. Before Michelle could realize what was happening, gunfire sounded and the two men to her right dropped to the floor. She threw herself back and rolled on the carpet, hoping to dodge the gunfire as it continued, ending the lives of the other men who were escaping the blaze with her.

  Out of habit, she put her hands up and her head down in surrender. She felt the barrel of a gun press up against the top of her head.

  “Get it over with!” she shouted over the discord.

  “Where’s the girl?” A familiar English accent spoke the words.

  Michelle’s head popped up and she let out a chuckle, a grin spreading across her face. “Gary, you came back for me.”

  Gary’s hands shook, knuckles whitening around the pistol grip. “Where is she?” he demanded again.

  “She’s dead,” Michelle lied, rising from the carpet and dusting herself off.

  Gary’s heart shattered. “And Catherine?”

  “Lucky for her, she wasn’t here. Come on already, we need to get out of here!” Michelle ran for the back door, actually stopping for Gary and putting out her hand.

  This was all for nothing. Gary shook his head in disbelief as he rushed toward the door. He hadn’t come back for Michelle—in fact, his plans included killing Michelle—and here he was, escaping the crumbling building with her.

  He looked down at her hand and shook his head, cocking his head toward the door. “After you.”

  The pair fled into the night, down the cement steps, and disappeared amidst the rows of silent vehicles in the lot.

  ***

  Veronica stumbled to her feet, her throat burning and her neck sore. Her ears rang and her head swam. If she died tonight, it would not be by Michelle’s hands. She crept from the office, keeping low. Michelle and some of Drake’s men headed for the back entrance. Veronica darted out into the lobby, dodging eaters feasting on the remains of fallen skinheads; they barely noticed her in their hunger. The few that did were too slow, Veronica dodged them with ease and continued toward the stairwell across the lobby. She yelped as a hand shot out in the dark and grabbed her ankle. She toppled to the floor and rolled over, kicking with her free leg at the hand that gripped her.

  Freeman crawled toward her, his eyes wild. Glass and other debris spiked out of his body; he’d been standing awfully close to the entrance when it blew. Veronica kicked at him again and he rolled over, wailing. Their struggle on the floor caught the attention of the eaters and the dead began to swarm. Veronica broke free from the grabbing hands and ignored Freeman’s death screams as the eaters consumed him.

  She retreated on hands and knees, scurrying across the floor. The pain in her wounded hand doubled as shards of glass embedded in her skin. The fire was rapidly growing, the smoke getting thicker; there were eaters everywhere. Her path to the stairwell was blocked, and without a weapon there would be no way she could make it to the roof.

  A pair of strong arms grabbed her around the waist and she screamed. A hand clamped down over her mouth and she was spun around and pulled in closely to the man’s chest.

  “I got you, I got you.” Andrew hugged her tightly.

  Veronica let out a sob, relieved and overjoyed that it was her friend. Panic filled her chest again, “Andrew, there’s too many of them!”

  He put a finger up to his lips, still holding her tightly with the other arm. “Be quiet, or they’ll know where you are.”

  Veronica furrowed her brow, confusion setting in. She looked around at the eaters in the burning lobby and realized they were stumbling and shuffling as they normally would, lunging at the remaining bruisers from Drake’s posse. Andrew pulled her along with him as he backed slowly toward the stairwell door, all the while keeping her as close to him as he could.

  “I don’t understand,” she whispered to him.

  Andrew reached an arm around and opened the door, the two collapsing once they were safely inside. He flicked his flashlight on and handed it to her with trembling hands. “I don’t have much time.” Veronica shone the light on him and saw the discoloration of his once-dark eyes, the festering bite on his arm.

  “You’re turning,” she said in shock. “How did this happen?”

  Andrew shook his head in sadness. “Back at the towers, it’s crawling with those things.”

  Veronica furrowed her brow again.

  “Michelle, she… she let the dead out of the east building.”

  Veronica grew enraged, clenching her fists and wincing in pain.

  “That doesn’t matter now.
I’m running out of time.”

  She understood now why the eaters ignored him, the infection had almost fully consumed him. The dead ate a lot of things, but they didn’t eat their own.

  He slid his gun toward her. “Take it. It’s heavier than what you’re used to, but you’ll do fine.” He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to focus his thoughts. “Use both hands, don’t try to run and fire. You’ll do fine.”

  She nodded her head, tears streaking her face. “Where am I supposed to go?”

  “Clyde’s waiting. He has the boat, but you have to hurry, he won’t be waiting for very long.”

  “How will I find him?”

  “Just get to the water.”

  The words echoed in Veronica’s head, her nightmare, once again, repeating itself.

  There was always death, there was always running, there was always the water.

  Remembering Michelle’s words in the office, Veronica placed a hand on Andrew’s. “Juliette didn’t kill herself.”

  Andrew smiled weakly. “I know.”

  Another tear rolled down her cheek. “You have to stop her, Andrew. For Juliette, for Ben. For Catherine.”

  “Michelle murdered her husband, didn’t she?” He asked, that dread in his stomach from Emerald Park returning. The moment he met Michelle, something had screamed evil at him.

  Veronica’s eyes answered for her. She only wished she’d been stronger back in the office to have killed the madwoman herself.

  Andrew motioned toward the steps behind Veronica. “Go on, before the roof gives way.”

  She hurried up the steps, throwing her weight into the door. The cold night air was a welcome relief from the inferno. She inhaled the sweet oxygen and rushed for the fire escape. She hoped she would get to Clyde in time.

  IX

  Andrew stumbled from the stairwell. He was already having a tough time breathing, and the smoke in the lobby wasn’t helping. He only had one thing left to do: find Michelle. He pushed his way through the eaters, who were too stupid to realize there was no one left alive here, too stupid to get out of the burning dealership while they had the chance.