Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  The railroad tracks paralleled the length of the Arch grounds and ran along a shallow trench. He couldn't remember seeing the railroad tracks from the park above, so he figured they were designed to be well camouflaged. He could see the gigantic stone staircase that wrapped around and over the tunnel ahead. It helped people get from the park, over the tracks, and down to the nearby riverfront. The tunnel was a couple of football-field lengths ahead.

  The remnants of the civilian and military cordon around the Arch, as well as many of the people they were protecting, were running down the hill from up top and either turning into the tunnel ahead or continuing forward toward the river. He couldn't see much in the direction of the water. His worry focused on what was behind the survivors as they came off the hill.

  Fewer and fewer healthy people were coming down. Those stragglers were getting caught by the rising tide of blood-drenched infected behind them. The slow. The weak. The injured. Those out of ammo. The overly brave. They were fighting hand-to-hand with the vanguard of the zombies. They either got away quickly or fell to the horde. Most, he was sorry to admit, succumbed.

  His heart stuttered as a large vehicle tore through some of the small trees on the hill above. It was the heavy M1A2 Abrams tank he'd seen from up in the Arch—he recognized the make from seeing them in video games—but it had completely morphed into something out of a horror flick. It was belching out great clouds of white smoke, making it impossible to see behind it. Its color had changed from desert tan to Hell's red.

  As it plowed over the hill, it ran over several feeding zombies and readjusted its path to avoid the rear of Liam's group. It popped off a small ledge and perched itself directly on the railroad tracks, close enough to him that he could see the sheen of blood covering its entire lower half. The tracks and road wheels were caked solid with—he couldn't even describe the horrors. One detached foot in Angie's car had been enough to terrorize him. The tank’s deck was covered with body parts and torn clothing. It was hard to tell, but there appeared to be injured zombies riding along—groping for the living inside the steel beast. He could imagine all the death the tank crew had witnessed—the results were riding with them.

  He thought it was just going to continue onward toward the river, along with all the people running in that direction, but instead, it seemed to dig in as it sat on the ruined train tracks. The massive smoke screen was moving along the hillside behind the tank, temporarily providing cover for those—like him—trying to run from the walking plague up there.

  He continued to move Grandma down the tracks but looked over his shoulder to see what the tank was going to do. Just as it seemed the billowing smoke would obscure the vehicle completely, the wind shifted slightly, so he could still see most of the action.

  The turret swiveled left to face the large tunnel they'd just evacuated. Zombies were pouring forth from it like filth from a broken sewer pipe.

  Shoot them!

  The tank's machine gun barked above all the other gunfire in the area and ripped viciously into the mass of lost humanity near and inside the tunnel. The crew had positioned their vehicle perfectly to shoot inside the dark space. He wondered how many sick people each shell would pass through. Would a bullet reach the other end of the long tunnel, passing through zombie after zombie the whole length? The gun pounded in short bursts for maybe thirty seconds.

  For its final act, the tank fired one shell from its main gun into the tunnel. The concussion of the shot caused incredible turbulence of smoke and debris around the hull of the tank as if the whole thing was trying to shake off the blood and wreckage coating it. A hundred-yard swath of zombies evaporated in a line drawn from the gun to the tunnel, and he realized the tank had fired a type of shotgun round that inflicted horrible results on flesh. Who says you don’t learn anything from video games?

  The turret began to swivel back to the forward position. He watched as the hatch on top was opened briefly; a tanker poked his head out. He looked in Liam's direction and gave a thumbs-up sign. Then the tank jerked forward, the hatch dropped, and it moved away. It pulled the smoke screen like a curtain behind it. For just a moment, he couldn't see any movement in that direction.

  The Abrams tank had bought them a little time, plugging the hole and confusing the pursuit. However, the wave of undead was still there. And it wouldn't be long before the dead would be emerging as the smoke dissipated. He saw what he guessed were the final survivors of the rear guard coming down from above. A rare few were police officers. Most were civilians with weapons. Some appeared to be hunters with long guns or shotguns. Others were dressed in black tactical gear as if trying to be stealthy. And still others were flamboyantly dressed in wife-beater t-shirts and ripped jeans—he imagined them as drug dealers, pimps, and the like. But, with zombies not far behind, they were all working together to escape the park, just like everyone left alive here.

  Near the tunnel the captain stopped and turned around, urging his party to run harder. Liam was encouraged by his presence, but the look on Osborne’s face as he peered back to where they came from made him once again feel a wobble in the pit of his stomach. He chanced a look back, too; the smokescreen had almost evaporated.

  He saw scores of infected pouring out from the railroad tunnel behind them. Even after the terrible damage inflicted by the tank, more took the place of the fallen. The soft tones of the evening light made the blood on their faces, arms, and chests stand out. The confines of the railroad grade ensured they would all funnel in the one direction they could see food—right to him and his fellow survivors.

  He pushed the wheelchair faster.

  Osborne ran into the small tunnel ahead. There were already a good number of people holed up inside, including some with weapons. Liam saw how, after some quick words, the captain arranged those with rifles along the two sides of the opening so they could protect the flanks of the group running in. It wasn't long before the shooting began. He wasn't willing to turn around to see if anything was hit. He was too close to the goal.

  Hayes beat him, Victoria and Grandma to the tunnel entrance by a full minute. Apparently, he wanted nothing to do with the slowpokes.

  They wheeled Grandma in among the very rear of the group, just a few women and children behind them. At the very back, a few policemen were pulling rear guard duty, preceded by the grievously wounded officers from the museum who were being carried slowly by two of the biggest officers, including Jones.

  They were moving too slowly.

  Any fool could see there would be too many zombies for the group to hold off, but still they kept shooting and reloading. Perhaps if they backed everyone into the tunnel and stood shoulder to shoulder?

  He felt for his gun and considered helping but knew he was woefully under-prepared for what was happening. He was happy to see the police give the thumbs-up sign to someone above them on the outside of the tunnel. Osborne motioned for them to come down while his men continued to pour lead into the infected crowd closing the distance.

  The first guy to come down from just above the tunnel exit looked like a gang member. Liam could see him hang off the ten-foot wall holding back the soil at the entrance and then drop down. Dressed in jeans with his underwear showing in a silly fashion, he was carrying an AK-47 rifle. He took up a position at the front of the tunnel with the remaining police officers and added his firepower to the defense of those inside. In small clumps, other gang members dropped in from above, as well as other civilians, the ones with hunting rifles and other guns that he'd seen moments before, running like hell on the hill above them. The group was gaining fighters like a snowball picks up snow. The tunnel was the only piece of cover in this part of the park. Everyone who saw it ran that way.

  The original fight between the rogue gangs and the police was pushed aside as life and death for everyone depended on getting as many guns as possible aiming in the same direction.

  Soon there was parity between firepower and incoming zombies inside the channel of the railway culve
rt. It wouldn't last unless the sick stopped coming. Looking out the tunnel entrance, he could see them swarming like locusts on the hill above. The tunnel was just a place to give the living breathing room while planning their next escape.

  He made sure he was close to the captain so that he could listen in. Whatever the plan was, it was important to hear it first so he could prepare right away. He would give Grandma every chance he could.

  One of the gang guys hung by the captain, as did several of the new “good ol' boys” with their camo hunting outfits and long-distance rifles. Like Liam, they all wanted to know what their leader was going to say next.

  “Thanks, guys. You saved our asses, but this can't last. We have to keep running to the south. There are too many of these things.”

  The firing and crowd noise was so loud he couldn't hear many of the details discussed, but he did catch their intention to push further south down the railroad tracks while several volunteers stayed behind at this rail tunnel to hold off the pack of zombies as long as possible before trying to catch up.

  He was impressed that both the gang members and the hunters volunteered to join the police in making that happen. He assumed their families were also heading south, which appeared to be the only real route of escape left to anyone.

  He tried to convey what was happening to Grandma, but she tapped her ear again. Her smile told him she was fine. In fact, she seemed almost calm given their grim situation.

  “I'm glad you found Victoria again,” she mouthed with a wry smile.

  “You have no idea,” he wanted to say. He flashed a thumbs-up sign and his own quick smile. He felt as if the weight of the world had fallen off, now that she was back safe with him—with them, he corrected himself.

  There were a few minutes left before Osborne was going to push them all out, so he grabbed his backpack, dropped it on the rocks, and checked his gun. He pulled out the magazine from his pistol and ensured it was fully loaded. Victoria stood close by, so he motioned for her gun. He pulled out its magazine to double check it. He knew it was full, but even so—

  He was shocked to realize it was not full. He had just given it to her and was right next to her while they pushed from tunnel to tunnel. She hadn't had time to fire it.

  When did I fire this gun?

  He couldn't remember if he switched guns somewhere along the way. In fact, he didn't remember firing any gun since they left Grandma's house. He tried to think of what might have happened, though the constant noise of the guns around him made it difficult to process data and think.

  I didn’t load it correctly in the first place, he decided. He resolved to be better about checking and rechecking his guns.

  He slammed in three rounds, seated the magazine back into the frame, and handed it—with the safety on—back to her. He showed her the safety again and had to yell to remind her to toggle it off when she was ready to shoot.

  The sound of gunfire reached epic levels in the tunnel. He knew the time to move on was at hand. But all the while, men, and women continued trickling in from above, some joining the shooters in the front, and others adding to the pack of civilians in the back.

  “We're moving soon!” he shouted to Grandma, hoping she heard him.

  He happened to be looking directly north out the mouth of the tunnel when he saw a massive fireball inside the park. Not quite on the central staircase, but a little north of it. The resulting shock wave pushed a warm current through the tunnel. He had no idea what caused the explosion until the captain yelled, “HERE COMES THE AIR FORCE!”

  The promised attack by the military had begun. Some of the people cheered, but he noticed not many of the police joined in. They undoubtedly remembered the radio message both telling them to clear out and to forget about getting across the river to safety. He felt excited to see so many of the sick get destroyed, but that was tempered by the vibe coming from the police.

  The initial bomb must have been a signal to fire freely at the massive gathering of infected. He dared to move closer to the exit and watched as the hillside above them erupted in all manner of explosions. The captain ordered everyone to retreat as far back into the tunnel as they could. The gunners at the mouth blasted the zombies in the railroad culvert even as they continued their inexorable march forward into the hail of bullets.

  “I don't know if the Air Force knows we're here,” Captain Osborne shouted, “but if they drop one of those big boys in this area, we're all going to get free haircuts. I don't want to be collateral damage, and you don't either. We're moving out!”

  He pointed out the back of the tunnel, which opened to a railroad bridge taking the tracks over some streets and then south into an industrial area along the Mississippi River. From there, Liam guessed they ran along the river practically forever.

  The captain organized a spearhead of his men and sent them out the south exit to clear the way. He then had all the women and children, along with Grandma and the wounded, head out and follow those men. This time, there was no speech. He wanted everyone out of the area pronto.

  Another large fireball seemed to be directly under the Arch. Liam realized they were starting up north and probably working their way down south. Surely they knew any survivors would be down here, right? Were others up north?

  His father's voice popped in his head, giving one of his “life lessons” on government. “Always keep in mind the only thing you can count on in government is that they make things worse.”

  Confidence is low.

  He loved the military because his dad loved the military. It was one of the incongruities of his father's otherwise total hatred of government. Together they were fond of playing military video games, reading books about military history, and they both celebrated their ancestors who had fought for the United States. However, on this day, the military had made it clear they weren't going to let him or his family across the river to find safety from the vile shroud being draped over the city. That soured his opinion of them.

  Still, he took pride in what the military was doing up the hill right now. As dad would say, “We paid for those bombs, so they might as well be put to good use.”

  The volume of sound continued to ebb and flow in the tunnel as he and Victoria pushed the wheelchair southward and out the back. He looked around for Hayes but didn't see him and figured the CDC man was up in the spearhead moving away as fast as he could. The guy wasn't his concern anymore.

  As they pushed Grandma out onto the trestle, he got an unobstructed view across the river and above it. He was stunned to a halt. Victoria didn't see him stop so she continued pushing the chair for a few paces before she could stop her momentum. The wheelchair stopped and canted to the left, allowing Grandma to see the same thing as Liam. He imagined he was watching a movie about a global war. Dozens of aircraft swirled above, like an angry swarm of wasps.

  Several huge planes were droning at very low altitude. They each had four propellers and were painted dark gray. Two of them were flying north, one behind the other, while a “crump crump crump” sound was coming from the guns hanging out their left sides. Liam had read about those big gunships, the Spookys, and he could see large guns pointing out their sides, throwing shell after shell into the horde under the Arch.

  Two similar planes were flying in the other direction just a bit higher. Above the jumbos were several formations of sleek fighter planes he couldn't identify. As he watched, a plane would split off and descend toward the Arch grounds and release its payload on the zombies.

  Every once in a while, a bunch of ugly planes—A10 Warthogs—would swoop in from over on the Illinois side and use their distinctive chain guns mounted in their noses. He knew they were tearing the infected people apart by the hundreds every time they went by.

  The scene was spectacular to observe. So many planes were moving in such symmetry. The coordination required to keep them all from colliding was amazing. And they were all working together to kill the infected; that made him very happy, despite the danger to
himself.

  “Liam, we have to move,” screamed Victoria.

  He was about to turn until he saw a formation of M1A2 Abrams tanks at a high point near the riverbank on the Illinois side. While he was gawking at them, they fired in unison over the river into Missouri. The smoke from their guns was the only indication they were adding to the destruction, as the explosions in the park were constant and deafening.

  Several little Coast Guard boats were on the water, but they weren't armed as far as he could see. He had no doubt armed soldiers were on board, however. No hope of swimming to safety, even if he had a way to get Grandma across the water.

  High up in the sky, he saw the distinctive shape of several B-2 Stealth bombers moving in lazy circles. He knew nothing good would fall out of those things. That, more than Victoria's sensible pleas, got him moving again.

  “Since the zombies can't shoot back, they can put all these planes out here for all to see. But nightmares are about to fall out of those dark shapes high up there.” He was finally able to talk at an almost reasonable level, though he still felt the urge to yell because his ears were ringing so much, “so we have to move fast!”

  “That's what I've been yelling,” she yelled.

  As he straightened Grandma's chair, he looked to his right—back into the city—and saw a massive new hotel a couple of hundred yards away. It sat in the front row of buildings lining the western edge of the Gateway Arch grounds, and it caught his eye because it was circular rather than the typical rectangular skyscraper. He also noticed its base was thick with zombies. The dead were coming from both the north and the south now, heading toward the survivors and their loud friends in the sky.

  We're drawing them out. Like bait.