Land of the Dead

by Robert Swartwood

  Out of the four of them, two wore masks. She didn’t know why she knew this immediately, but the two with masks were zombies.

  “I was hoping you could take me to my son.” The man raised a pistol and pointed it at her face. “Please.”

  47

  Everything was going fine and according to plan until they turned the corner toward C Ward and there were the two men, dressed in scrubs, the tall one standing a little in front of the other with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side. The receptionist had been leading them the entire time and now stopped and stood frozen only a few feet in front of Conrad and the rest of them.

  Conrad stepped forward, nudged the woman aside, and pointed the gun right at the tall one. “Move.”

  “Uh-uh,” the tall one said. “I don’t think so.”

  “Len,” the other one whispered. His head was down, his shoulders were hunched, and it looked like if he were able to fold himself into his own body, he would. “Don’t do this.”

  “Shut up, dickhead,” Len said, his eyes never leaving Conrad’s. His hands were behind his back and now he brought them out, showing the large socket wrench gripped in his right hand. He said to Conrad, “You think I’m scared of that gun?” He glanced at Thomas and Gabriel and James, all who carried rifles. “You think I’m scared of any of those? This thing here might not be a broadsword, but I guarantee you I can take your head with it just the same.”

  “Len,” the receptionist said, “what are you doing? Wes, what the fuck is he doing?”

  Before Wes could answer, Len said, “So what do you say? Just put down the gun—put down all your guns—and I won’t fuck you up.”

  “Are you joking me?” Conrad asked.

  Len was silent.

  “Through those doors is my son,” Conrad said, “and nothing, I repeat nothing, is going to keep me from getting him.”

  Len motioned at him with the wrench. “Then let’s dance.”

  But Conrad didn’t want to dance. He wanted his son. So he tilted the pistol down and shot Len in the leg.

  The man dropped the wrench and hit the floor, started flailing around. He tried reaching out for Conrad when Conrad stepped past him.

  “Stop him!” Len shouted at Wes. “Stop him, dickhead!”

  Conrad had reached the doors and glanced back, was just now aware that the receptionist had taken off running. Turning suddenly, she had pushed past Thomas and James and Gabriel and hurried down the corridor, screaming for help. James chased after her. Len was on the floor trying to stand up but couldn’t, his left leg now useless.

  “Stop him, dickhead!” he kept shouting. “Stop him!”

  Wes had finally come to the conclusion that he could not fold himself into his own body. Trembling, he stared down at Len, his eyes wide, his mouth open, and shouted, “Don’t call me that!” He fell to the floor beside Len, grabbed the socket wrench, and started beating Len on the head with it. “Never”—whack—“call”—whack—“me”—whack—“that!”

  It had happened so fast Conrad was barely aware of it—everything had just whipped past in the matter of mere seconds—and before Wes could hit Len anymore, Conrad’s paralysis broke and he rushed forward, grabbed the wrench just as Wes lifted it again over his head.

  The wrench suddenly gone, Wes became a whole different person. Trembling now not from anger and rage but from sorrow and remorse, and kneeling down beside Len, he murmured, “I’m sorry, Len, I’m so sorry.”

  Conrad flung the wrench aside. He grabbed Wes’s shirt and yanked him to his feet. Staring back into the young man’s face, he said, “Take me to my son.”

  Wes’s face was pinched, his eyes squeezed shut. He said, “Please don’t expire me, I’ll do anything,” and Conrad had the urge to hit him with the wrench just as this guy had hit his friend.

  But he said, “I’m not going to expire you. Just take me to my son. That’s all I want. His name is Kyle and he’s ten years old and I want to see him now.”

  Wes opened his eyes a little, just a peek, and when he saw that Conrad meant him no harm his body sagged and he started nodding his head. “Yeah, I can do that. Definitely. Just, you know, let me go.”

  Conrad let him go. Then he turned and followed Wes through the double doors, into C Ward, his boots squeaking on the floor. There were doors on both sides of the corridor, indicated by numbers, and the one Wes brought him to was number 24.

  He glanced back at Thomas and Gabriel making their way down the corridor, both shooting glances at each door they passed, Conrad now noticing that some of those doors now had faces peeking through the one-foot-by-one-foot square windows.

  “How many people are here?” Conrad asked Wes, as Wes pulled a plastic keycard from his pocket.

  Wes paused, the keycard suspended over the lock. “Huh?”

  “Never mind. Just open it up.”

  The guy swiped the card. A beep sounded, the door opened outward, and Conrad was moving before he knew it. A light inside the room had come on and he saw his son immediately, lying there on a bed that was hardly more than a cot, in a room that was hardly more than a cell and contained just a toilet and a sink.

  Kyle lifted his head from the pillow, squinted, and said, “Dad? Dad, is that you?”

  Conrad fell on his knees beside the bed just as Kyle sat up. He took his son in his arms and held him tight.

  “I’m sorry, Dad,” Kyle whispered. His body was shaking. “I didn’t mean to do it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I made you mad.”

  “Shh.” Conrad held his son’s head close to his chest, ran his fingers through Kyle’s hair. “It’s okay. You didn’t make me mad. You have nothing to be sorry about.”

  From the doorway Gabriel cleared his throat.

  Conrad asked his son, “Want to get out of here?”

  Kyle nodded his head against his chest.

  “Then let’s go.”

  His son was dressed in pajamas but no shoes, and so they walked through the door and into the corridor with Kyle barefoot. They had started up the corridor toward the double doors, the five of them, when Conrad stopped.

  “What is it?” Thomas asked.

  Conrad was looking at one of the doors, at a face peering at him through the square window. He turned back toward Gabriel, opened his mouth, but the zombie was already shaking his head.

  “We can’t save them all.”

  “Why not?”

  “We just don’t have the time.”

  “But that’s not fair.”

  Gabriel said, “Now you’re starting to understand life.”

  Kyle stood beside him, holding his hand. Now he squeezed it, and when Conrad looked down his son said, “Daddy?” like he was three years old again.

  Conrad forced a smile, nodded, and then they were moving again, through the double doors, past Len who had managed to crawl and lean against one of the walls, and who called after them, saying they were fucking expired, they just didn’t know it yet. They left Wes behind, the guy squatting down next to his friend and telling him how sorry he was, but that Len couldn’t call him a dickhead anymore, and then they turned the corner and hurried on, up another corridor, entering the lobby where Conrad suddenly stopped again.

  “Shit,” he said and let go of Kyle’s hand. He motioned for his son to stay and slowly walked to one of the windows.

  Outside the night had become animated with flashing lights, over a dozen police cruisers and Humvees parked out there with Special Police and Hunters stationed behind their vehicles. They were all watching the building, their weapons trained on the main entrance, and when one of them spotted Conrad’s face in the window, word traveled down the line and then someone with a bullhorn spoke up.

  “CONRAD, WE KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! DROP YOUR WEAPONS AND COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!”

  Behind him, Gabriel said, “What do you think you’re doing?” and when Conrad turned around he saw Thomas had grabbed Kyle and was now holding him like a shield, the barrel of his rifle pointed at his so
n’s head.

  “Not so fast,” Thomas said when Conrad took a step forward. “Just stop right there. Put the gun down, or I swear I will shoot him.”

  Conrad said, “I should have guessed this.”

  “Guessed what?” Thomas lifted his chin toward the entrance. “You think I did this?”

  “WE HAVE THE BUILDING SURROUNDED! MAKE IT EASY ON YOURSELF AND SURRENDER!”

  “No,” Thomas said, shaking his head quickly, “I never called them.”

  “But you called them the first time, when I came home.”

  “No, Conrad, not even then.” Kyle squirmed and Thomas had to hold onto him tight, press the barrel into his head even more. “I meant what I said earlier, when we’d talked. I was playing two sides, and I always felt bad for what had happened to your mom, I wanted to make things right. And I was all for helping you get your son back and escaping but, well, it doesn’t look like that’s going to happen now. So drop the gun.” He squeezed Kyle’s shoulder hard, causing Kyle to cry out. “Now.”

  Conrad held the pistol out, slowly lowered it to the ground and came back up with his hands raised. “You don’t have to do this, Thomas.”

  “Don’t I? What then do you suggest I do?”

  “IF YOU DO NOT COMPLY IN THE NEXT MINUTE, CONRAD, WE WILL BE FORCED TO COME IN AFTER YOU!”

  Conrad said to Thomas, “Just let Kyle go.”

  “Sorry, neighbor, no can do. He’s my insurance now. I’ll tell them I was working you this entire time. They can check my file, see I worked both sides. They can—”

  Thomas’s head exploded a moment before Conrad became aware of the gunshot. Kyle screamed and tried to run toward him but James swooped in, grabbed his arm, and pulled him back.

  “Got you,” James said to Kyle, holding him close. He’d ditched his rifle in favor of a pistol, which he’d just used to expire Thomas.

  Gabriel sighed and said, “Oh thank goodness.” Conrad was just now aware that the zombie had taken off his mask; his face was soaked with sweat. Then Conrad noticed the zombie’s faltering expression as he said, “James, no,” and Conrad looked back to find James holding Kyle up in front of him, keeping the pistol aimed at his head.

  “Sorry, guys, but I have no choice.”

  Gabriel said, “Please tell me you’re joking.”

  “This would be one fucked up joke, wouldn’t it? But no, this is the way it has to be.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t want to die. I really don’t, not even for some stupid cause that doesn’t even exist. I mean, I was with you, all the way up until we got Eugene Moss and talked to Harper. But when he bailed ...” James shook his head. “No, now it’s just hopeless.”

  “How?”

  “After we’d come back up to the surface, remember I had to stay behind to take a piss? That’s when I called the Hunters the first time, talked to Philip Hager myself, explained the situation and said I wanted to make a deal.”

  Gabriel laughed. “You really think he’ll deal with you? He’s going to kill you the first chance he gets.”

  “No he won’t. Because I promised him Conrad, and I told him I had more information for him when we met, information that’s going to guarantee me at least a couple more days left alive on this earth.”

  Outside, the voice on the bullhorn said, “ALL RIGHT, CONRAD, MINUTE’S UP! WE’RE COMING IN!” and James smiled first at Conrad, then at Gabriel.

  “He wants you too for some reason. I don’t know why, but he said he wants you, and I’m going to give you to him. But you know what? I never really liked you a whole lot. In fact, if I could, I’d kill you right now for the pure satisfaction of watching you die. You fucked up my life more than the Government did, if you can believe that, because at least the Government wasn’t like me. But you were. You ... shit, Gabriel, you’re the real traitor.”

  And with that, he pointed the pistol at Gabriel and shot him twice in the leg.

  part four

  DYING

  48

  With their wrists bound behind their backs, Conrad and Gabriel stood on the very top floor of the Herculean, in what had once been The Restaurant, and leaned their foreheads against the window to stare down at the city below.

  “Impressive, isn’t it?” Philip asked. He stood directly behind them in the dark. “You can see over ten miles in every direction.”

  Gabriel’s leg had been tied with a tourniquet to stop the flow of blood. It was strange to Conrad that for a while he had forgotten one of the true differences between the two of them, that while whatever blood inside Conrad was solid and cold, Gabriel’s was moving and warm.

  “What do you think about when you see all those lights down there—all those lights stretching for miles and miles and miles?”

  Neither of the men answered. Gabriel was having trouble standing, placing his entire weight on the window, his breathing irregular and his face very pale. Conrad was only half-aware of the zombie, instead staring out at the blanket of distant lights and thinking about his son. Thinking about how he had come so close to saving Kyle, and how when James had grabbed his son Conrad froze and just stood there, wanting to grab the weapon or rush at James but finding he didn’t have the strength.

  “Well?” Philip said, his voice rising.

  Gabriel said in a soft voice, “It makes me think of one of the temptations Christ faced in the desert.”

  “Christ? What is a Christ?”

  “A character in a book.”

  “Book? Eventually, I will make sure that all books are wiped off this planet.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Gabriel said. “If you don’t destroy all the books, someday they’ll ban together into one great book monster and—”

  Philip stepped forward and held the tip of his broadsword to Gabriel’s throat.

  “That’s enough out of you,” Philip said. He smiled at Conrad in the dark. “How are we doing, Conrad?”

  “Where is my son?”

  “Don’t worry. He’s as safe as he can be. We’re taking very good care of him.”

  “If you do anything to him, I will expire you.”

  “And how are you going to do that?” Philip shifted the tip of the broadsword away from Gabriel’s throat and pointed it at Conrad’s face. “You can’t do anything. I could cut off your nose right now and there’s nothing you could do about it.”

  Conrad was silent.

  Philip shouted, “Lights,” and a moment later light flickered on all over the room, illuminating the half dozen Hunters standing there, armed with both broadswords and assault rifles.

  The room itself had been stripped of The Restaurant’s usual décor, all the ornate and plush tables and chairs gone and replaced by one single folding table in the middle of the room. And on that table now was a large cardboard box. There was nothing written on this box, and for some reason this made Conrad nervous.

  He turned around immediately and started to take a step toward Philip, because he somehow knew it was Kyle in that cardboard box, bent up and twisted to fit just so. But before he could take a complete step, Philip’s broadsword was thrust into his chest, right by his heart, Philip smiling at him and shaking his head.

  “It doesn’t even faze you, does it? I have my sword lodged right through your heart and you’re just standing there like nothing’s happened. You know by now there really isn’t anything such as pain. I’ve read the reports too. I know all about the research that’s been done. It’s fascinating stuff, really, and it’s unfortunate that it all has to be destroyed.”

  Philip pulled the blade out and stabbed Gabriel in the arm, the zombie crying out and then clamping his mouth shut, squeezing his eyes tight.

  “And look at that. Really, just look at that reaction. Be honest with me, Conrad, and tell me why it’s not obvious we’re the next step in evolution. What’s so great about him? The simple fact that he actually feels anything at all slows him down in the end. It makes him weaker. It makes him pathetic.”

 
“I’m expiring,” Conrad said, still staring past Philip at the cardboard box.

  “We’re all expiring.” Philip studied the bloodied tip of his broadsword in the light. “I’ve read that report too.”

  “No,” Conrad said, and looked straight at Philip, “I mean I’m decaying right as we speak.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m not sure exactly. But the fact that my body’s decaying at a rapid rate, and his”—glancing at Gabriel—“is actually growing stronger ... now you tell me how that’s not one step down the evolutionary chain.”

  Philip stared at him hard for a moment, taking it all in. Eventually he rolled his eyes, shook his head, and snapped his fingers. A Hunter appeared at his side, handing him a white cloth, which Philip used to wipe away the blood on the tip of his broadsword.

  Conrad said, “What did I ever do to you?”

  “To me? Nothing. I’ve just never liked you. Well, wait, that’s not true. At first I did. At first I knew who your father was—I mean, who wouldn’t—and I was excited to work by your side. But then I realized there was nothing special about you. Sure, you had a lot of kills on your record, you graduated at the top of your class, but under all of that you were just ... ordinary. Except your old man was who he was and that opened all sorts of doors for you. You never had to work to get where you were, you just let daddy lead the way. And the worst part about it—at least from what I could see—was that you wasted every single second.”

  Gabriel, leaning against the window staring out at the city, started to laugh, a low chuckle deep in his throat.

  Despite the fact he’d just cleaned his broadsword, Philip stabbed Gabriel in the arm again. “What are you laughing about?”