by Turner, Ivan
Lewinski, the last of the healthy line, held back. “You’re a god damned hero, Greg,” he said and he meant it.
Smith smiled a quirky little smile. It was nice to know that, even in his last moments, he could still respond to having his ego stroked. “You bet your ass I am.”
Then Lewinski was gone and it was just Smith, a task force cop, a regular cop, and the zombies. The dead and the dying. They began shooting.
***
The Herons had an early dinner back in Queens. Mellie wanted McDonalds and Alicia wanted sushi. They compromised and went to a diner. Alicia would never get sushi at a diner but there were enough decent dishes that she could find something satisfying while Mellie could munch on chicken tenders and french fries. Heron's appetite was good so he ordered a decent meal and they ate in the warm comfort of the diner's booth. Outside, snow swirled around. There was an inch on the ground and it was starting to pick up. The weatherman was calling for another four inches overnight. It wasn't much of anything. The city would have the roads clear even as the snow fell. But Heron would have to shovel the snow. He laughed to himself, drawing a curious stare from Alicia. Reaching out, he put his hand over hers and smiled. How could he explain to her just how much he was looking forward to shoveling the snow?
They stopped at the grocery on the way home and picked up a few pints of the weirdest ice cream flavors they could find. Those pints were expensive. They were running six and seven dollars apiece now, but it was a special occasion. It was the rebirth of Anthony Heron. They bought a jar of maraschino cherries and three cans of whipped cream. Regular, chocolate, and strawberry. Then they bought sprinkles and butterscotch syrup. They would make the weird flavors even more weird.
Back at the apartment, Alicia brought everything into the kitchen while Mellie ran to her room to grab some dolls. She didn't think it was fair to have an ice cream party and not include her favorite dolls. Heron dropped onto the couch in the living room and turned on the television. He was in such a state of well being that he forgot himself and watched the news.
By the time Alicia came out of the kitchen carrying a tray with the ice cream, toppings, and bowls all neatly laid out, he was sitting bolt upright on the couch with the remote in his hand, staring at the television screen. The new anchors were discussing a major police operation that had gone awry and left dozens, maybe hundreds dead. They said it was difficult to figure out who had been killed on that day and who'd already been dead.
Heron looked up at Alicia, the joy of the day gone from his face. He looked so sad. Looking at him made her so sad.
"You don't have to, Anthony. Please."
"I have to," he whispered.
Standing, he switched off the television and went to the closet for his coat. She dropped the tray onto the coffee table and rushed to him. One of the pints toppled over and landed top down on the floor. She grabbed Heron by the lapels and turned him to face her. Standing on her toes, she kissed him on the mouth and held his head to her face with all of her strength. She did not want to let him go.
Finally he pulled free and looked into her eyes. He couldn't stand to hurt her this way. Really, he couldn't. But he couldn't stand to watch his colleagues die on the evening news.
"I have to go," he said. "It'll be worse for me if I don't."
She understood that. She nodded to him. "Come home safe."
He turned away from her and caught sight of Mellie coming down the stairs with an armful of dolls. He kissed her on the head and then was out the door.
Once in the car, Heron called headquarters. He was on the road and driving without a real destination. Nancy answered.
“It’s Heron,” he told her. “Where’s Smith?”
She hesitated. “Lieutenant, I thought you weren’t available until after the weekend? Captain Naughton…”
“Where’s Smith?” he repeated.
“Um…I think…” She didn’t know what to say. The normal snide tone had dropped from her voice entirely. Heron got the idea.
“How about Naughton?” he asked. “Where’s he?”
“He’s in Brooklyn, at the housing project site,” she whispered and then gave him the address. He punched it into his GPS and hung up the phone.
Smith was gone.
The police had set up a two block perimeter. Heron couldn’t even really get near it with his car so he put it by a fire hydrant and walked. He showed his shield at the tape and screamed at the officer who didn't instantly decide to let him through. The scene over the last two blocks was like something out of a post apocalyptic movie. The streets were quiet and the buildings stood tall and lonely. Only when he turned the corner and saw the actual infested building did he see life. There were police cars up and down the street and barriers set up in front of the entrance. Naughton was leaning up against a cruiser with his ear pressed up against a cell phone. When he saw Heron approach, he didn’t even appear surprised.
Heron waited, not even listening to the conversation. He was looking at the dilapidated eight story building, seeing the shadows moving around inside. He knew that dozens, if not hundreds of people had died in there. There were more zombies inside that building than probably any other place in the city.
“Jersey City’s worse off than this,” Naughton said.
Heron turned to him. He still had the phone in his hand but it was disconnected. “Who had Jersey City?”
“Spinelli. They haven’t found him yet.”
“And Smith?”
Naughton didn’t answer right away. Finally, he simply nodded toward the building.
“Did anyone get out?”
“They managed to pull survivors from the first three floors before it went bad. Then about twenty more a little while after Smith’s last message. We heard some shots inside a few minutes ago.”
Heron dipped his face into his hands. "Is there any hope?"
Naughton shook his head. "We've evacuated the block. As soon as the red tape clears, we're taking the building down."
The lieutenant looked up at the building again. In the space of a synapse flash, he thought of every single person in that building as an individual. He thought of the different lives they had lived, their successes and failures, their luxuries and hardships. In that building had been people with hope and people without. There had been criminals and people who had worked hard against a world that just beat them down again and again. Not one of them deserved they fate they'd gotten. Not even one of them.
“You couldn’t have done it any differently, Anthony,” Naughton said. It was meant to make him feel better, but all Heron heard was that he wasn’t good enough to save lives.
“You should have called me. You should never have done something this big without me.”
“You weren’t in any shape, Anthony. It's not something to be ashamed of.”
“Still…” Heron said, too sad to be angry.
“What are you even doing here, Anthony? It’s all over and done with now. There’s nothing you can do.”
“I couldn’t stay home. I…”
“Is that it?” Naughton approached him, put his phone in his pocket, and put his hands on the other's shoulders. “Is it guilt? You feel guilty because you were at home having a nice day with your family while we were out here dying?”
Heron looked down at him with bloodshot eyes.
“For Christ's sake, Anthony, don’t feel guilty. Don’t you dare! After all you’ve given these past few months, you’ve earned your nice day more than anyone ever has.” Naughton release him and stepped away. “Besides…” He trailed off, looking up at the building. There was a broken window on the top floor and it looked as if tiny wisps of smoke were starting to trail through. “After this, I’m not sure how many nice days we have left.”
Heron turned away, not wanting to look at the broken building. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Lance.”
“I suppose so,” Naughton answered.
And Heron left the scene.
As he cleared
the perimeter, he looked at the lights in the windows and the people on the street. He looked at life. Was it going away that quickly? Stopping into a deli, he pulled a pack of gum from the display and put it on the counter. The young man in his little cubicle behind his candy and mints rang it up for a dollar and nine cents. As Heron pulled out a twenty dollar bill, he also asked for a pack of cigarettes.
Leaving the deli, he walked to his car, chewing on a new piece of gum. The snow was already stopping, leaving just a white coating on the ground, less than he'd seen in Queens hours ago. So much for four inches. It was okay, he supposed. He didn’t much feel like shoveling it anymore. When he reached his car, he leaned up against the cold metal and stared up at the sky. If the world was coming to an end, then he was determined to make the most of it while he could. He unwrapped the pack of cigarettes and tossed the plastic onto the ground. Then he spit his gum after it. Pulling the little white stick from the pack, he popped the end into his mouth and struck a match. That first inhalation of the smoke was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.
***
The end is nigh. But will it see a world of zombies or a world of humans. Next month Heron returns to work with a completely different outlook. Partnered with Naughton, they must attend to the zombie infestation of New York and hold off the Department of Homeland Security at the same time. Meanwhile, Dr. Luco discovers some interesting things about zombies while Rudy Ludlow must face his guilt which manifests itself in the form of Todd Mayfield.
***
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Be sure to check out what happens when the Jury starts punishing people for their crimes in past lives and sets their sites on a rabbi who is believed to have been Adolf Hitler in The Book of Revelations, available for all your reading devices from all of your ebook stores.
For an epic (and involuntary) journey through time at a breakneck pace, join Mathew Cristian as he narrates his adventures as a Forty Leaper. Forty Leap is available for all your reading devices from all of your ebook stores. Read the first half for free.
