Machines of the Dead

by David Bernstein

“How can that be?” Jack asked, horrified.

  “It just is. I the checked the basement, the roof, looked in and behind things. I checked every apartment up and down.”

  Zaun’s faced started to redden. He slowly shook his head.

  “You did your best, man. Don’t be hard on yourself.”

  “I was a coward.” Zaun said, looking away.

  “Don’t say that; you were amazing, killing all those undead and trying to save people.”

  “That’s just it, Jack,” Zaun said, turning back to meet his gaze. “I didn’t try to save or help anyone . . . not at first.”

  “When the shit really started to hit the fan, after all those people were mowed down on the Brooklyn Bridge, I flipped out. I hid in my apartment. I heard screams in the halls. People pounded on my door, but I was too afraid to answer it. I had already stocked up on food. I was an island, self-sustaining. From what I saw, it was every man for himself. Even the police scattered. Can’t blame them, they’re only human. It was a lawless period, brief as it was. People were acting crazy, and the dead were growing in number, coming back to fucking life. The news had said it wasn’t an airborne virus, but who really knew, right?”

  Jack felt bad for the guy; for anyone caught in the city. It seemed like the world was ending. Maybe it had, at least for the citizens in Manhattan. No one could predict how a person would react to such an extreme occurrence; the dead rising up, looking for human flesh. Zaun shouldn’t blame himself for how he reacted to the events that unfolded, that were still unfolding. Sure, there would be scumbags who would take the opportunity to do evil, to rape and murder, but short of that, a person couldn’t get down on themselves for trying to survive.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Jack told him. “The whole city was, and is, in chaos; and from the looks of it, you were one of the smarter ones. People should’ve stayed inside, listened to the warnings; stayed off the streets.”

  “Yeah,” Zaun agreed, “but in order to be able to stay in your home, you’d need supplies. Make sure you had enough of the essentials. No one knew how long this epidemic, the imprisonment, would last. The elderly were especially vulnerable. Mr. Zarnof came to my door, asking for help. I pretended I wasn’t home. Found him outside my door, dead. He wasn’t bit or anything. I think he just died of a heart attack or something.”

  Zaun stopped talking. Tears were rolling down his face. “I still can’t close my eyes without seeing dead bodies, hearing the cries of people as they suffered.”

  Jack hadn’t thought about what it was like from a topsider’s point of view. He had been one of the lucky ones, removed from the immediate chaos, the front lines. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Zaun so down, let alone cry.

  “You did what you had to do in order to survive,” he said. “You did the best you could, and what was right for you.” Jack didn’t necessarily believe everything of what he was saying, but wanted Zaun in a positive frame of mind. He, himself, had no idea how he would have acted if he had been left in his apartment, his wife one of the undead. He would like to believe he would have tried to help people, but not having had to endure it directly, he truly didn’t know. Zaun was more of a loner, having no family and not many friends. The guy only did what his mind was capable of doing: dig in and survive.

  “Only when I stopped hearing things,” Zaun continued, “did I finally get up the nerve to leave my apartment. I hated myself for being such a coward. I was relieved by the quiet; that there was no one left to save. I thought about killing myself, seppuku style, the way a samurai would have offed himself, but that was only deserving of a true warrior.

  “I forced myself to eat, pushed my self-loathing down deep, realizing I could do nothing to change the past. I decided to see if there was anyone still alive. But the whole damn building was filled with the dead or undead. I was angry, pissed off. I hacked those undead fucks to pieces, but I quickly found that the only way to stop them was to separate the head from the body. I put all my years of training to use, except it wasn’t like fighting people. The undead were slow and stupid. Only in numbers were they formidable, intimidating.

  “I started with our floor, clearing out the undead, dumping the bodies down the elevator shaft. I went through each apartment, looking for survivors, gathering up supplies, food as well as soap and whatnot. There were so many of the undead; I had to take breaks regularly. Sometimes, I’d have to run away, and then half the floor would be after me, chasing me into the stairwell.

  “Then, one day when I was walking down the stairs, I heard a woman cry out. I ran down, saw her enter on the third floor. A zombie was on her tail, a kid of all things. I lopped his head off, then followed her to her apartment. She wouldn’t let me in, so I bashed the door down. She was crazy, all scratched up and bleeding. She didn’t want to come with me. When I went to grab her, she bit me.” Zaun paused, staring at the bite mark on his arm. “I was so angry. So pissed . . . I . . . backhanded her. Raised my sword . . .”

  Jack closed his eyes. “You had no choice. She was already dead.”

  “But that’s just it,” Zaun cried. “I didn’t kill her. I left her alone.”

  Jack opened his eyes. He didn’t know what to say.

  “I probably should have killed her, but I was so full of rage. She’d killed me, and I wasn’t about to allow her the easy way out. So I left her to die a slow, painful death.

  “I came back to my place, scrubbed the wound, poured hydrogen peroxide over it, then bleach. Burned like a motherfucker. Later that night, I was already feeling tired, drained, but not like I was when I was hacking up those ungodly bastards. I was drained as if I had no strength, as if I hadn’t eaten in days. I was so hungry and all I kept thinking about was meat. Human meat. If I had the strength, I think I would’ve gone back down there, found the woman and started tearing into her. As it was, I was too wiped out. I was so hungry, Jack. Hungry enough that I had to fight against eating my own flesh.

  “Eventually I started hallucinating. I saw my mother. She came to me. Told me everything would be all right. That I’d be with her soon.” Zaun was crying again. “It was the only good thing that happened to me.”

  “Well, I’m here now, buddy,” Jack said, patting Zaun on the leg. “The past is the past. It’s time to move forward. You’re looking better, but you need to rest. No more talking, too much stress is no good. I’m going to let you sleep, then get you up in a few hours for some chow.”

  Jack was pleased to see his friend coming along quickly. It was probably his age, good eating habits, genetics, and the fact that he was in shape. He didn’t want to spend anymore time topside than was necessary, but he also didn’t want to scare the guy. He hadn’t told him about the possible plans to nuke the city. Jack wasn’t leaving without his friend, and if the city was leveled, he and Zaun probably wouldn’t suffer for more than a few seconds at best.

  Caught in a tough situation, Jack left the room, hoping the good doctor had come up with a way to solve the bot problem and alert the military before they decided to blow up Manhattan.

  Chapter 12

  While Zaun was recovering, Jack scoured the building, killing undead and looking for survivors. He had to see for himself that there was no one left alive. He didn’t find anyone of course, but did manage to kill a number of undead to the point he could no longer find anymore. He wanted to make the building as safe as possible for when he and Zaun made the trek to the sixth floor supply closet. But it was more than that. Jack felt as if he had made a safe zone for other survivors. There had to be more in the city, and by chance if any of them made it to the building, they would be able to have a place that was undead-free; a safe haven from the city’s ugliness.

  A few days after waking, Zaun was strong enough to leave. Jack went over gun protocol, making sure his friend knew as much about the firearms as possible, including where the safety switches were, how to properly load a weapon, and how to aim and shoot.

  With their packs full and on their backs, gu
ns loaded, Jack taking the two handguns and the rifle while Zaun carried the shotgun and his sword, the two companions left the apartment.

  They easily made their way to the supply closet on the sixth floor. Looking out the window, Jack saw that the gate was open. A few undead were currently occupying the alley, with one right below the window where the rope was dangling. Another was about halfway down the alley and a third stood between one of the open gates and the brick wall, as if confused on how to exit the area.

  Jack almost couldn’t believe it. The undead horde from earlier must have grown so large that their combined mass was no match for the gate and broke the steel door open. They flooded in like water from a burst dam. Finding no food, they receded back out, leaving a few stragglers behind.

  Looking out into the street, Jack saw a single zombie walk by. Then another. At any moment, one could walk right in and then there’d be four to deal with.

  “What is it?” Zaun asked.

  “Remember that ‘safe’ alley I told you about?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it isn’t so safe anymore.” Jack moved aside to let Zaun have a look.

  “Wow,” Zaun said. “Guess those military dudes were wrong about that gate being secure.”

  “I just think they underestimated the undead’s strength. Those things might be weak and slow individually, but in groups they’re like a tornado.”

  “There are only a few down there now,” Zaun pointed out. “We can take them out.”

  “Yeah, but we have to do it quietly or we’ll wind up with half the city’s undead down there. I was thinking about picking them off with the rifle, but I’m not sure how the sound would travel from up here. The shots could echo and confuse the things, or it might attract them into the alley. Then we’d be stuck up here for who knows how long.”

  Zaun turned to Jack, a grin on his face. “You trust me?”

  “Why, what have you got in mind?”

  “It might be nuts, but it’s our only option.”

  Jack listened as Zaun suggested that he go down the rope. Using his martial arts training, he would then quietly take out the three undead.

  “And if it doesn’t work,” Zaun added, “you’ll pull my ass back up and we’re no better off.”

  Jack shook his head. “I don’t like it.”

  “What other choice is there, the sewer? That sounds more dangerous, at least getting to them does.”

  Jack knew his friend was right. He didn’t like the guy going down there alone, but he’d be ready with his rifle. And if the alley became overwhelmed with the undead, he’d help Zaun back up.

  “Fine, but you’re taking the harness. I’m not sure I can pull you up all that way and I doubt you’ll be able to climb sixty feet without tiring.”

  “No way. I’ll be fine. Between the two of us, we’ll get me back in this closet. I’m rope savvy, having climbed before. You on the other hand are not. How do you expect to climb down without falling?”

  Jack should’ve thought to bring at least one extra harness. Now one of them was going to be in danger.

  “It’s settled then,” Zaun said, smiling. He grabbed a pair of the heavy workman’s gloves from the shelf and put them on. “I’ll be able to slide down easily with these. They should hold up well.”

  Zaun gave the shotgun to Jack, then went to climb onto the windowsill.

  “Hold on,” Jack told him.

  Zaun turned around.

  Jack held out the Sig Sauer. “Just in case.”

  Zaun took the weapon, tucking it into the front of his pants.

  “Safety’s on,” Jack informed him.

  “I know. You think I’d shove this thing in my pants if it wasn’t?”

  “Just watch your ass.”

  Zaun climbed onto the windowsill, wrapped the rope around his left hand once, creating his own belay, then started down.

  Jack kept an eye on the undead, but also watched his friend.

  Zaun made his way quickly down the line, stopping just above the zombie that was standing below him. With his legs intertwined between the rope, and his left hand holding him up, he drew the sword with his right hand and plunged the blade into the top of the zombie’s head. The undead corpse went slack and collapsed to the ground. Neither of the other two undead seemed to notice.

  Zaun dropped the rest of the way to the ground, landing in a crouch. He stood slowly, reached into his jacket, and produced a throwing star. Jack shook his head, remembering having the pointy things when he was a kid. He would throw them at trees or into the back of the door to his room, but never imagined ever using them in real life. They were a thing for movies or books; things kids played with. But Zaun, along with hand-to-hand combat and swordplay, practiced using all kinds of throwing weapons. He’d told Jack that knives were his favorite, the long blades were great for deep penetration and killing, but only when in somewhat close proximity to the target. Throwing stars were better for distance strikes, usually not penetrating deep enough to cause death, but could cause enough damage to hinder an enemy’s attack or impede his escape. Zaun was going to use them to draw the undead’s attention.

  Jack’s heart was in his throat as he watched Zaun throw the weapon, hitting the undead in the back of its head. The thing stopped, and turned around, then headed straight for Zaun.

  Damn, Jack thought. The weapon hadn’t penetrated deep enough to kill the zombie, but at least Zaun had hit his mark and quietly drew the thing’s attention.

  The undead’s pace was slow, but faster than when it had had no target in it sights. The zombie near the gate remained in place, apparently unaware of what was going on.

  Zaun stood like a statue as the thing came straight for him; his right hand on the hilt of his sword. Jack’s heart continued to slam against his chest. When the undead thing came within an arm’s length, Zaun swung his sword in one smooth motion. The zombie’s head tumbled to the ground, followed by its body.

  Damn, Jack thought, the guy is good.

  However, there was a problem. The zombie near the gate hadn’t moved, and was still about sixty feet away. Zaun couldn’t go up to it, not without the risk of attracting any undead that might walk by the alley. How was he going to get its attention? The distance was way too far for him to use another throwing star. If he missed, the metal clang would attract others.

  Looking down, Jack saw Zaun motioning for him to come down. Right, why bother with the lone zombie? They would both be long gone and underground before the thing even knew they had been there.

  Jack hooked himself up to the rope, climbed out onto the windowsill and began his descent. He moved slowly, not wanting to attract the attention of any undead that might see him from the street, or fall and break his bones. Turning around to check on Zaun, he saw that he wasn’t below him anymore, and was moving down the alley. What the hell was the guy doing?

  Jack moved faster, wanting to reach the ground and get to Zaun before he did anything stupid, but by the time he reached the asphalt, the guy was too far away. Calling out was not an option.

  Jack watched, sweat running down his face and back, heart still racing, as Zaun stopped about ten feet from the lone zombie. He produced another star and threw it at the undead thing. At the same time he released the weapon, a female zombie, dressed in a dark gray business suit, ambled from around the corner, and spotted Zaun immediately. The star did its job, drawing the heavyset zombie from where it stood.

  Jack couldn’t breathe.

  Both undead were heading Zaun’s way, their pace quickening slightly. The female zombie kicked something metal with its foot and the item clanged loudly as it skidded along the ground.

  Jack cringed, hoping the sound hadn’t traveled into the street. Zaun was backing up, leading the undead farther into the alley. There were only two, and Jack had no doubt that his friend could take care of them with ease. Hell, the guy had taken out most of the zombies in the building, what were two more.

  Then another member of the unde
ad, stumbling like a drunk, came from the street. Others quickly followed it. Within seconds, the undead completely blocked the entranceway. They were like sharks; when one smelled blood so did all the others.

  “Get back here,” Jack yelled, realizing there was no point in keeping quiet. Zaun retreated and was by Jack’s side in moments. The undead were slow, but they were coming.

  “Forget that thing,” Jack told him, referring to the sword, and handed Zaun the shotgun. Jack took aim with the rifle and began firing into the approaching horde.

  As the two unloaded their weapons, turning heads into dust, the undead went down, the lead bodies tripping up the others, slowing the mass even more. But like an unrelenting force they kept coming. The numbers were just too great.

  “Get up that rope,” Zaun yelled over the sound of gunfire. “Get out of here.”

  Jack ignored him, and kept on shooting.

  They kept firing into the crowd of undead, keeping them at bay until the guns only clicked, and there were no more clips left.

  “You should’ve gone up,” Zaun said, holding his sword, the shotgun tossed to the ground.

  “Screw that,” Jack said, wondering where the hell the guards were. They should have been here by now. Maybe they saw the gate was open, or saw the horde coming, and decided it was too dangerous to risk a rescue.

  With the hungry, undead horde closing in, Zaun turned to Jack. “Well if this is it, it was a pleasure knowing you, Jack.”

  Chapter 13

  With his back against the wall, death all but imminent, Jack’s mind raced with thoughts. There was still so much left that he needed to do. So much undone. A short time ago, he didn’t wish to go on without Jess. But that’s how most people felt when a loved one passed. And the best way to honor her was to live. Now, facing down the mass of undead, he wanted to live more than ever. He needed to see his mission through; get Zaun to safety. He needed to see his sister again, help her this time, get her out of that abusive relationship. And he needed to see the Manhattan Armageddon put to a stop. He wanted to be there when every last bot, those mindless little fuckers, perished.