by Gwynn White
“Turn off your light, Victoria,” he called back over his shoulder. “Hurry! Let's go!”
Her light remained on. He looked back, shocked that she wasn't in the tunnel. She stood in front of the entrance, the grate in her hands and tears on her cheeks.
“It was nice meeting you, Marty. Take care of her, Liam.”
She slammed the grate back into place, clicked the lock shut, and tossed the key into the tunnel. She gave him a determined look. “I have to do this,” she said in a broken voice. Finally, she removed herself from his sight, the light from her flashlight bobbed toward the stairwell.
“Victoria!” He blurted it out without thinking who might hear. The echoes hurt his ears.
She had locked herself out and locked them in with no way for anyone to follow them.
He sat there, turning over options. In the end, he knew there was only one. He started to push the creeper again, to get as far down the tunnel as he could before anyone else came in the room. He was glad it was too dark for Grandma to see the tears on his face.
I wish I’d kissed her. He hated himself for thinking that selfish thought, but it was true. He wished he had gotten to kiss her before she left him like they do in the movies.
Heroes kiss the girl, then push them to safety. Not the other way around.
He looked back again, saw the merest hint of glow from her flashlight. It wasn’t moving. She must have paused on the steps. Drawing the shooters away, at mortal risk to herself. She was the hero.
The shooting at the door continued for a minute or so. Apparently, the gunmen weren't very good at shooting door handles, or the steel was bulletproof. By the time he was nearing the end of the tunnel he could hear men’s voices echoing down the pipe behind him. They yelled to each other about a light going up the metal staircase.
He and Grandma found Hayes waiting for them in the strange sideways light of a hazy railroad tunnel.
The key had worked.
Thank you, Victoria.
12
Heroes
Liam and Grandma slid out the end of the service duct into a train tunnel with a double line of tracks running through it. Several people were already sitting inside. If they were surprised to see three people fall out of the dark hole in the wall, no one bothered to ask questions. They just went back to whatever they were doing.
That was fine with him. He wasn't in the mood to jaw-jack, as Grandma would say. He got her out of the tunnel, then he and Hayes helped her into her wheelchair. The packed rock under the railroad tracks made it difficult to roll her around, but they weren't going anywhere for now, so she was content to be parked and given time to relax. Lying on the creeper for the trip and getting back up had sapped her strength.
He slammed his backpack on the dirty rocks and took a seat next to it. He was getting more and more upset at the turn of events leading to the sudden loss of his new friend. He recognized the muffled sounds of gunfire coming from outside the rail tunnel but wasn't in the mood to think about what was going on out there. For now, it was more important to rest and formulate some kind of plan. Maybe a plan to save Victoria.
He was just turning to thoughts of going back in when Hayes sat down and began rambling about his situation.
“I can't believe those hoodlums shot us. We tried to tell them we were with the CDC and we were there to help, but that seemed to enrage them. The hell of it is, we aren't even really with the CDC, more like glorified roadies who move the gear for the pinheads with the lab coats.”
He seemed to consider what he was going to say next.
“I did learn something from the pinheads, though ... ”
He looked around like he was participating in a conspiracy. Seemingly satisfied he wasn't being overheard, he continued.
“The virus causing all this was made in a lab.”
Despite being crushed about losing Victoria, he appreciated this distraction. Having read many books on zombies, he had an immediate retort: “Isn't that kind of obvious? A natural virus doesn't just explode across the world, kill people, and then bring them back to life, does it?”
Hayes looked at him with newfound respect. “You don't seem to be fazed by all this. I'm sorry you lost your friend, by the way. She saved me, too.”
“Well, I'm not fazed anymore. Two days ago, when I was attacked by a berserk yoga lady, I was pretty 'fazed.' After the next several zombies attacked me, I started to get used to it. Now I guess I'm immune to the weirdness of it, even if I'm not used to all the blood. Not sure I'll ever get used to that.” He patted his stomach. “I have issues with the sight of blood.”
“So you call them zombies too? I hear that more and more, but I don't really get it. Aren't zombies things that come out of caskets and walk around slowly, moaning about brains?”
Liam had similar taxonomical reflections on this very topic, but he was convinced the things he'd seen would be classified as zombies by almost anyone.
“You're talking about old-school zombies. Originally, I think that's what people thought zombies were—the dead who climb out of the ground and chomp brains of those too slow to run away.” He scratched his head, then watched as dust fell like rain from his mop. “I think there was an old movie that started people thinking like that. Later, the slowpoke zombies were laughed away as not threatening enough. Today zombies can be almost any speed—” He went on to give his ideas on the various kinds of zombies.
Hayes seemed hard to convince. “But don't these people seem more like vampires to you? The sick seem to go for a person's blood, not their brains.”
His fear of blood was strong, but the more he thought about it, the more it made some sense. Angie especially was a bloody mess, and her apartment was a nightmare of blood. The park ranger up in the Arch was covered in blood, as was the Arch observation deck. Unless he consumed an entire person up there—he thought about the impossibility of that—it meant whatever he attacked had bled profusely, but was still able to get away. Was blood the key?
Still, vampires? He wasn't ready to believe such supernatural nonsense.
“I think these people are dead, but some kind of infection is keeping them from turning off and staying dead. But I haven't seen anyone actually die and then come back to life ... ” He realized how little he knew about the infected people now causing so many problems for him.
“Last night, you guys knew nothing useful about the sick people. Do you know anything about how the infection spreads?”
“Just what I've heard secondhand. Nothing from official channels. I've not seen any zombies up close yet, so I can't confirm anything for myself. They say the plague infects the victims and makes them crave blood. One consistent data point seems to be the biting by the infected, and their desire to consume as much blood as they can, but no one’s sure why. The drained victim then gets up and looks for more blood. Possibly to replace their own.”
“Mmm. That doesn't really tell me anything I don't already know. I've seen infected people attacking helpless victims since this all began. You don't know anything useful that could help us fight back or stop the plague?”
Hayes gave a good laugh.
“Look at me, kid. I'm just a driver. I know just about as much as you do.” Hayes turned to the tunnel opening as a loud explosion echoed from somewhere out there.
He believed he knew more than he was letting on. He was clearly part of an organization at the center of things. Why wouldn't he know something? Every book on zombies he'd ever read would back him up on that. He wished it had been Hayes who had gone up those steps to save them.
No, it should have been me.
He and Hayes sat in silence for several more minutes. He thought the whole time about Victoria, unable to solve how to get back and save her. Grandma nodded in the coolness of the tunnel, but he considered waking her up to move her further south, out of the area surrounding the Arch. With so many people fighting, it was no place for an aged grandmother to be hanging about. It wasn't a great place for a kid, ei
ther.
Get her some safety, then get Victoria.
He noticed a police officer crouching about 100 feet down the railway tunnel, keeping an eye on the southern exit. The northern exit was a tiny point of light in the opposite direction. There was no way to know who was up there, though he could see lots of people in the tunnel between himself and that pinpoint. The dark tunnel made a great shelter against the gunfire of the larger battle. That much was certain.
He moved Grandma further toward the southern exit, as that was the direction they needed to go. It wasn't easy to push the chair on the rocks, but he got help from Hayes, and they made pretty good time. Grandma woke up but seemed to nod back off fairly quickly with the rocking action of her ride.
The officer held a shotgun and radio as he crouched and kept watch.
He parked the wheelchair about thirty feet from the exit and let Hayes know he'd be right back. He approached the officer from his side, so as not to appear threatening.
“Excuse me. I'm Liam. My friend Victoria and I were the lookouts who went up into the Arch to watch for the gangs.”
“Nice to meet you. I guess we both missed the action down on the ground.”
“What do you mean?”
“The captain put me down here to guard this tunnel exit, but nothing has happened. I could do more good up where the action is. What did you see from up top?”
He traded some basic information with the officer, whose name was Jones. He was a large black man with maybe too much gut poking out. Still, he was quite impressive. Liam didn't say anything to offend him, but he suspected he was put down here because he would make such a large target. Not the best attribute to have in a gun battle.
Officer Jones’ radio gave him an idea.
“Can you call the captain inside the Arch?”
“Sure, but my orders are to hold here. I don't have anything to report.”
“Actually, you do. My friends and I just came from inside the Arch museum. There's a service entrance that comes out inside this railroad tunnel. When we left the captain, he and his people were trapped by a group of looters who took control of the north entrance. I think we can help get them out of there.”
The officer gave him “the look.” He'd seen it many times over the years. It was the look an adult gave him to decide whether a kid could know what he was talking about when something important happened.
“Dad, there's a car flipped over on our street.” The look.
“Mom, your phone needs a critical software update.” The look.
“Officer, I know how we can save your leader and all those family members.” The look.
To his credit, Officer Jones got on the radio.
“Yeah, this kid—What's your name?—this Liam kid said the captain sent him up to the top of the Arch, and now he says he can help our guys get out of the museum.”
The officer went over some details with the man on the other end. Liam was grateful to be helping the officers in their sticky situation, but his motives were anything but pure. He was hoping somehow he could save Victoria. He was worried his last memory of her would be as a bouncing light going up to the sky.
I'm not going to leave her to die.
Officer Jones was going back and forth with the person on the other end for many minutes. When he was finished, he shared what he knew with Liam.
“Things are pretty bad topside. There are gang members and looters at both main entrances to the Arch, as well as at a third entrance on the city-side. Our boys are trapped in the museum. For your plan to work, they would have to cross the waiting area in full view of both groups of armed criminals.”Jones churned on that for a few seconds before continuing.
“But that isn't even the worst part. There's a big group of infected really chopping up the remaining citizens on the north side of the park. Our intel says they will be at the Arch sooner rather than later. The gang members aren't very good at killing zombies; apparently, zombies don't die as easily as our guys and gals in blue.”
He was visibly angry but went on with the facts.
“So our plan is to get any officers still available on this side of the park, sneak through the tunnel you found, and attempt to rescue the remaining officers and families inside the museum.”
“But the metal gate-thing is now locked. How are we going to get into the maintenance room?”
Officer Jones smiled. “Leave that to me.”
Liam wasn't content to leave anything to chance. He'd seen everything fall apart the past couple days and trusted nothing to work as it should. But he couldn't exactly tell the police how to do their jobs, so all he could realistically do was tag along and hope they got the job done. And, if he was really lucky, he would emerge from the dark hallway just in time to save Victoria.
It took about fifteen minutes to gather four police officers, including Officer Jones. He was disappointed that was the best they could do, and they seemed to sense his feeling.
“Don't worry kid, these bad boys are Mobile Reserve,” he said while patting the combat-looking helmet of one of the new guys. “A super S.W.A.T. team,” he said with a little laugh.
“This is more than enough firepower to fend off the garbage shooting at our people in there. See these?” He held out his weapon, which Liam thought looked like a sleeker, deadlier version of the rifles his dad let him shoot. “These are highly modified AR-15s. Since the rules of war have been turned off, we're using silencers and fancy bullets today. We should make short work of those bastards. We have some other toys we're bringing to the party, too. It also helps that we'll have the drop on them, thanks to you and your secret entrance.”
One of the new guys, who carried a massive shotgun with a drum magazine, gave him a chuck on the shoulder, then handed a battering ram to his larger compatriot. Jones slung the ram over his shoulder next to his shotgun. Apparently, they were going to use that to bash in the metal grate. He didn't doubt they could do it, especially given the large man's bulk. He might be able to punch the thing apart.
While the officers were readying the plan amongst themselves, he stood off to the side, not sure if he should listen in or look busy doing something else. He decided there was one item he definitely wanted to pass on to these guys.
“Um, excuse me. If you happen to see my friend in there, please help her get out. She's about my age. Wearing a black dress. She ran up into the Arch to save me and the rest of our group.”
“If we see your girlfriend, we'll grab her.”
He didn't correct her designation as his girlfriend, even though it wasn't true. He liked how it sounded, but it made him even more depressed at how things had transpired.
After a few more minutes of preparation, the police officers gathered near the small tunnel entrance and were working the radio. Presumably coordinating with the group inside.
“Liam, do you have any weapons?”
He wasn't sure if he should tell the cops that he was packing a gun, but decided now was not the time to be worried about getting himself thrown in jail for concealed carry of a weapon without a permit. He knew better than to whip out a gun, so he used his words instead.
“I have a small pistol, yes.”
“OK, listen. Your job is to guard this exit, so when we come back out we find your friendly face and not anyone else. Do you understand?”
“I'd rather go with you guys.” Officer Jones grabbed a radio from one of his mates and tried to give it to him. He pulled the police radio he'd been using earlier out of his backpack, showing he was already plugged into their radio net. “I'm ready to go,” he said lamely.
Jones continued, “I understand, son. But trust me. We'll get it done. We need someone here to keep this door open, or we'll be cut down when we come out. Make sense?”
He couldn't argue with the logic, though his heart still envisioned saving Victoria. That wasn't going to happen if he was parked here at this entrance as a glorified greeter.
“Don't use your radio unless absolutely neces
sary. But you can listen so you know when we're coming back.”
“Understood.”
Through it all, Hayes had kept his distance from Liam and the police. He figured the man would want to help protect this exit, but he made no effort to move much past where they had placed Grandma near the exit of the railroad tunnel.
He's probably thinking about making a run for it.
The air outside the train tunnel was thick with gunfire, though the odd angles of the sound waves on the interior made it hard to know where it was all coming from.
He also thought he could hear an increase in gunfire coming from the other end of the railroad tunnel. That is, from the spooky and dark section north of where he stood.
Why did I even suggest this?
Hero stuff. Remember?
Jones went in first. He had to go in on his knees and elbows since the space was too low for him to crouch and walk. He dragged the battering ram with him. The other three men entered the same way; one of them was pulling a large black bag. Liam imagined it was a bag of weapons.
He checked the pistol on his hip, then stood against the wall next to the opening, holding the radio close to his ear so he could listen in without blaring it to the whole tunnel. There were other people about, but none were anxious to interfere with this operation.
The radio chatter began almost immediately.
“Jones here. We are through the grating and are in the maintenance room. No sign of trouble. Moving to hallway. Out.”
A few minutes later a much shorter transmission, in a whisper.
“Jones here. In position. Be ready in five minutes. Out.”
He knew the basics of the plan but had no idea of the tactics they would use to extricate those inside the museum. He tried to be patient and wait the five minutes. The radio chatter had completely stopped.
The void gave him time to think of how he could do something stupid, like going up the tunnel himself, then ascending the stairs to try to catch up with Victoria and see if he could help. But he knew that, by now, she was probably down the other leg of the Arch if she kept running once she got to the top. If she got to the top.
