by P. J. Post
She rolls over, seeming to stare down at the Button Eyes just a few feet below, her hair’s waving even closer to them now. I have no idea what she’s thinking.
Christ.
“Jem!”
She looks at me with a weird expression…I don’t get it…and then she grins once more before finally pulling herself up onto the rooftop — and to safety. Pixie stands next to her with a bulldog stance over her defeated foe, staring up and down the alley as if awaiting the next challenger.
I remember to breathe, and then race for the far edge of the roof and the breezeway.
In the near corner of the roof next door, a pile of dead Button Eyes surrounding them like sandbags before a flood, are my girls.
But more creatures are closing in, arms outstretched, stalking their prey.
They’re steps from getting what they came for.
Emily looks up, less panicked than she sounded earlier, raises her .38 and shrugs. “I’m empty.”
“Jem?” Sam asks.
I nod and she motions toward the approaching mob. “Little help?”
It’s pretty much shooting fish in a barrel from up here.
I barely aim and pull the trigger even faster, I’m just worried about taking down the front row. The magazine is empty in less than a minute.
Emily covers her ears, and kneels down, grinning the whole time.
“Clip…” I call, holding my hand out.
Brenda tosses me another, and I shove it into place, pull the bolt and open up on the Button Eyes again.
I wonder if noise attracts them.
“Sam, we need to get you guys off that roof,” I call down to her.
I look around for Jem, but she’s nowhere to be found — again.
Jesus.
She’s fucking killing me.
The lower roof is cleared for the moment; at least the creatures have been reduced to crawling, squirming things buried under one another.
“Brenda, can you throw Emily to me?” I ask.
She steps over and examines the breezeway, and then looks down to the milling mass of hands, and heads, and faces, and chomping maws three stories below. The gap between the buildings isn’t more than four feet, but it feels like a goddamned chasm.
Brenda nods.
“Let’s do this.” I’m guessing we’re going to have more company soon enough.
Sam pockets her own automatic pistol and steps to the edge.
Brenda picks up Emily like she’s going to carry her across a threshold. “She’s heavier than I thought.”
“I’m not fat!” Emily shouts up into Brenda’s face.
I can’t help but grin.
I set the rifle down and hold my breath again. I hope Brenda is stronger than she looks.
She takes a position near the edge, one foot up on the parapet and begins swinging Emily back and forth, building momentum and then flings her up to me. I lean over as Emily stretches out…hands reaching…
Fuck…
She’s not going to make it…
I lean as far out over the parapet as I can, something jabs me in the stomach. I grab her by the forearm, but her parka is slippery as goose shit and she slides…
“Emily!” Brenda shouts, panicked.
“Lane!” Sam calls.
When I feel the skin of her wrist, I squeeze as hard as I can, trying to crush bone. I refuse to let go. And then she swings like a pendulum, her momentum slamming her into the side of the building below me.
I feel the muscles in my side stretch, my shoulder screams, I feel something slice into my belly — it’s all I can do…don’t…let…go!
The Button Eyes in the breezeway below moan and groan up at her, reaching for her feet, even though she’s still two stories above them.
I know it hurts, and she must be terrified, but she hangs motionless from my grip, and when she looks up, she’s smiling through the pain with bright, trusting eyes.
I grab her with my other hand, trying not to think about how close I came to losing her again.
Shit, I’m close to losing everyone I love…every fucking minute of every fucking day.
The apocalypse sucks.
I pull her up as she steps on vents and other crap sticking out of the wall, eventually, she gets one leg over the edge of the roof and falls into my arms, her hands wrap around my neck, squeezing with all her might. I stumble and fall on my ass.
“I knew you wouldn’t drop me, I knew it,” she cries.
“Lane!” a voice shouts.
I get to my knees and look across the alley. It’s Jem. She’s standing on the two-story building across from us with Pixie.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Her hair is swirling in the wind and snow, long white curls brushing her face. She salutes.
Pixie barks and stands proud next to her.
“Is she okay?” Jem shouts back.
Emily sits up and waves.
“Yeah, stay put, no more running off.”
“I was trying to find another way in…I got followed.”
“Well, stop, just stay there.”
I get to my feet and return to Sam and Brenda. They both look scared for Emily, and nervous.
My shoulder feels like it’s been dislocated, and I can feel my stomach bleeding too; it’s more than a scrape.
“You got this; you were a gymnast or something, right?” I say to Sam between pants.
“Glad you were paying attention. You want a boyfriend of the year medal or something?”
“I’d rather get a trophy.”
“You’ll get one if you don’t drop me.”
“Does that mean you’re my trophy?”
Brenda scowls at me. “Who do you think you are to talk to Sam like that? She’s nobody’s trophy.”
Sam puts a hand over Brenda’s arm, but Brenda looks down like it burns.
“Lane and I are…” Sam begins.
“The reason I wake up every day,” I say. “Sam’s my…”
Emily leans against me, wrapping one arm around my waist. “She’s his everything. I heard him say so.”
Sam beams across the breezeway, blushing and grinning, reminding me why I fight.
I pull Emily to me and smile down at her. “You are too, and Jem, and Hawk and Casey.”
“What about Allen?” she asks with an obvious smirk.
I laugh gently and ruffle her hair.
“I’m hungry!” Jem shouts across the alley.
She has her arms folded across her chest, like we’re late picking her up from lacrosse practice or something.
I stare down at Sam. “I see you didn’t tell Brenda about us, about me? I thought I rated better.”
“We’ve been kind of busy,” she says, still grinning.
“I know all about you, Lane,” Brenda says, shaking her head. She still looks pissed, and more than a little possessive.
Curious.
“Okay, you first, Sam. Brenda, it’ll take both of us to hold you.”
Emily sneers at her. “He called you fat.”
“No one is fat, especially not these days — play nice, Emily,” I almost scold her. “Give us some space.”
Brenda glares at me anyway, like there’s truth in Emily’s childishness, in spite of the fact that Sam is over half a foot shorter than she is, and gives up at least thirty pounds.
Emily stops and looks up at me, holding her bloody hands out, eyes questioning.
“What is it?” Sam shouts.
“Nothing,” I answer.
I turn around and hold a finger over my lips where Sam can’t see. “I’ll be okay, nothing to worry about. Don’t scare Sam, okay?”
Emily nods and wipes her hands off on her pants. We don’t have time to deal with any more drama, besides, I’ll heal soon enough, even if it does fucking hurt.
Emily has no idea how bad it is, and that’s a good thing.
When I turn back, Sam’s walked over to the far side of the roof, staring down her approach. She stands tall an
d straight, focused. I’m reminded of one of those gymnastic tournaments I used to see on television, and I wonder again what she was like before, hanging with her friends, registering for classes, cheerleader practice — before the ugly. She’s so skinny now, much weaker than she used to be…she raises her arms, extends her fingers, thumbs forward, concentrating…and then lowers them to her knees and bends over like a pitcher checking off signals….she takes off, faster than I expected, her boots skipping across the gravel as she sprints for the edge, for me.
The breezeway may only be four feet wide, but the roof I’m on is a few feet higher at the parapet.
Her shoulders are squared up as she leans forward, her eyes hard, the red and gray scarf trailing from her shoulders, her mouth twisted into a grimace of determination.
Little puffs of dust and snow kick up with every gravel crunching step.
I brace myself against the edge, and take a deep breath as I flex my hands, praying I have the strength to hold her.
She plants a boot on the parapet wall and raises her other knee, leaping into the night like a track athlete. I watch her float through space, her coat unfurling like a cape behind her as she closes the distance between us, and when she hits the parapet wall on this side of the breezeway, my hands are on her even as she clamps down, wrapping her arms over the edge, trying to secure a hold.
I gather up the heavy fabric of her coat with one hand and slide the other under her arm.
She looks up at me as she leverages herself against the top of the wall and scrambles for a foothold, finding the same vent as Emily, and then I pull her over and onto the gravel and tarpaper roof. She collapses onto me and then raises her goggles.
Christ, I love her eyes…so blue…
They smile at me, and encourage me, and fuck…there’s a lifetime in her eyes, a lifetime of happiness, a lifetime of forgiveness, of love…and then she kisses me; my reality blurs, everything fades under the velvet touch of her lips.
I swear she’s a fucking witch.
“My turn,” Brenda shouts at us.
Sam grins. “Like I’m ever going to share you.”
“I think she meant the roof.”
“Whatever,” she says with that I’m-not-really-joking tone I haven’t been able to quite figure out yet. And then she rolls off of me.
The night gets colder and I miss her already.
Brenda raises her own goggles and wipes the sweat from her face. “You won’t drop me, will you?”
She suddenly looks much younger, a lot less tough. Her cheeks are flush. She takes off her parka and throws it to us.
“Brenda? How are you doing?” Sam asks.
“Don’t do that, Samantha, don’t patronize me.”
“Then let’s get this over with,” I shout at her.
She glares at me, and then studies the gap she has to jump.
She helped save Hawk. I’ll be eternally grateful, but she looks pretty fucking confused right now — scared — and that makes her a liability.
“Bren?” I call.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah — I’m good, I’m good. It’s been a long freakin’ day, okay?” she mutters, more to herself I think, than to us. She turns and walks to the far side of the narrow roof, planting her fists onto her hips, and steps up onto the far parapet, striking a pose as she…what, stares off into the night? I have no idea what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.
“Sam…” I begin.
“She’ll be fine,” she says, laying her hand on my arm. “She’s right, it has been a long day, and she didn’t have you waiting for her.”
I hug her, trying to imagine what it would be like to be alone through all of this. I mean, I was alone for a long time, so I should know, but every day I’m with Sam, it gets harder and harder to remember.
I know I was batshit crazy for most of it.
I’m pretty sure I still am, but that’s a different emotional clusterfuck.
And then I focus beyond Brenda to the rooftop where we crossed the alley earlier, a Button Eye is stumbling around aimlessly. If it finds the ladder bridge, if it somehow manages to get over, or more of them do, if they fall into the roof access…it doesn’t matter how much of a long shot it is, we need to get back to the ladder.
She needs to deal with it while we still have time.
I hold my hand up trying to get her attention. “Bren!”
She turns and stares at me, tilting her head. “What?”
I point behind her, but as she turns to look, more Button Eyes emerge from her rooftop stairway. “Never mind!”
“Hurry!” Sam shouts.
Brenda turns back, freezing as she stares at the creatures flooding onto the roof. I can see the dread on her face.
She takes off.
I grab the rifle and start taking the creatures down, aiming at nothing more than headspace — tons of them pour out of the stairway. And all of them are chasing Brenda, trying to cut off her escape. I can’t keep up.
Sam is firing next to me but there’s just too many.
Bren’s eyes look like nothing more than those of a spooked horse — wild, her hands reach out…and then she’s falling, disappearing under the mob. Seconds later she’s up on her feet again, crashing through the web of arms and hands, sprinting for the edge in a blind panic, rushing past the other outstretched fingers of the Button Eyes I couldn’t get to.
I hand the rifle to Sam, and get ready to catch her.
Her eyes narrow. Her face screws up in concentration, and then just as she leaps for the parapet she loses momentum, her arms flail for balance, she slips or fuck, it doesn’t matter…she’s in mid-air now, and she’s not even going to be close.
Sam screams.
Brenda screams.
I leap over the parapet…
And then she slams into the siding below me.
I have one hand holding the top of the wall and the other reaching out for anything Brenda.
I feel Sam take hold of my support hand, fingers wrapping around my forearm as I swing into Brenda. Pain shoots up my thighs as my knees bang into the siding, but Brenda is between them. I shove my knees under her arms, and pin her against the side of the building.
She’s got both hands wrapped around a small gray box bolted to the side of the building, her feet slipping and sliding against the siding.
“I got ya,” I say, even as she begins to lose her grip.
I find another series of vents lower down the wall and get my feet on them, bracing myself as I wrap my free hand around Brenda.
She screams again.
“I got you, it’s okay. Relax.”
“Heights, she’s afraid of heights!” Sam cries down to me.
“Nice fucking timing. When did you think…” I begin, and then…
Fuck it.
“Don’t look down, I got you,” I say.
Brenda begins to fight against me, pushing with one hand while she clutches at me with the other, like a drowning victim trying to get on top of her rescuer.
I lean into her, cheek against cheek, and shove her face into the siding. “Fucking stop!”
She relaxes slightly, and I renew my grip around her waist.
I remain where I am, letting her get her shit together. I hope she’s quick about it, because I can’t hang like this much longer. She’s trembling against me.
“Brenda?” I ask.
“Yeah?”
“I’d rather not get eaten today, can you climb?”
“I’m sorry.” She glances at me and then turns away, her head against the siding, but I’ve already seen, her eyes are full of tears. I guess this explains why she didn’t want to go up to the roof with Emily in the first place.
“Let’s go, find the vents I’m standing on…there you go, one foot at a time.”
Slowly she finds footholds and begins to climb as Sam lets go of my hand and grabs Brenda’s. Eventually, she makes the top and disappears over the parapet.
“She okay?” I call up.
Emily le
ans over and nods just as her eyes grow wide. She barely has time to point before something slams into me, bouncing my head off the wall and knocking me from my perch as I feel fingernails scrape down my back. I let go, falling…I’m in limbo…and then I squeeze the same gray box that saved Brenda as I flatten out against the wall.
Button Eyes are walking off the roof behind me, reaching out as they fall into the crowd below.
I shift to my right, and leap for a tangle of ductwork sticking out the side of the building further down, narrowly dodging another goddamned zombie.
“What the fuck?” I scream.
“To your right,” Sam shouts.
Across the breezeway, on the opposite building, there’s a ledge a few feet down, and a series of narrow pipes running the length of the building. I jump back across the breezeway, my fingers clamping down on the pipes as my feet slide down the brick wall and find the ledge.
I immediately begin working my way to the front of the building, out from under the waterfall of Button Eyes. I stop to catch my breath and look up to see Sam staring down at me. I’m a full story down now.
She’s afraid, it’s as clear on her face as the happy was a few minutes ago.
We got this, everyone’s safe for now, but I keep imagining a Button Eye walking across our ladder bridge.
Can they do that?
Is it even possible?
I ont in o…
The fuck?
It’s faint, like an echo, but closer…inside…I’m totally fucking nuts, I know this — I even hear voices sometimes, but this one ain’t me.
I close my eyes and try to clear my mind.
Ane…
Focus.
E go…
It’s a soft voice, a calm voice…
I open my eyes and immediately get that feeling that I’m being watched…I stare down the breezeway and across the alley.
Jem’s on the same roof as before, on her knees, hair in her face, staring back at me.
She’s as focused as I’ve ever seen her.
E go?
It’s the same phrase.
E go what?
And then she points up the alley, toward the warehouse.
I close my eyes and imagine the Button Eye walking across the ladder again.
I look back to Jem. She points again and this time, I hear her voice in my head, it’s unmistakable…Me go?
