Machines of the Dead

by David Bernstein

  Zaun opened his eyes. His body felt weak, as if he hadn’t eaten for days. He knew it was his mind battling against itself. Digging his fingernails into his palms, he shook his head and told himself he could beat this. He didn’t need any of his old friends. His breathing grew faster, nostrils flaring with each intake of air. “No,” he said, feeling the warmth of anger build in his chest. His toes and fingers tingled. “No.” He was strong now—had been trained in dealing with his addiction. Grabbing the locker door, he slammed it shut, the air seeming to shake around him. The darkness within lashed out at him, screaming at him to open the door. Zaun grinned, knowing the dark part of him was in pain. He enjoyed knowing it was suffering.

  The darkness’ rage departed. Zaun felt a moment of relief before the voice whispered softly to him. It begged him to reconsider, merely to have a taste, something to ease the pain and get him through these horrendous times. Once he made it out of the city, he could relax, get his mind back to full strength and forget all about his little “slip up.”

  Zaun’s grin became full blown, knowing how desperate the voice was. How pathetic. He wished he could kill it, make sure it never came back, but that could never be. He was an addict and always would be, having accepted the fact long ago.

  During and after rehab, Zaun left his old associates behind. They weren’t his friends. He needed to start fresh; make new ones. He also wanted to keep the number low. He and Jack had hit it off after Jack moved into the building. The two had just clicked, enjoying the same sports teams, eateries, and movies. He had never told Jack about his past and not because he was ashamed, but because he wanted his new life to be just that, new. Part of accepting responsibility was acknowledging his problem and he always did, going to meetings when he needed to, but he kept his friends ignorant of his past. Much of it was shrouded in a haze and what he did remember was awful, but it was something he had to remember, never wanting to go there again. Blackouts, binges, waking up in places he had no idea where he was or how he arrived at them. He’d been in jail a number of times too. He hit rock bottom when he woke up naked in a dumpster in Hell’s Kitchen. He had finally decided he needed help and began the long arduous road to recovery.

  Those were his life experiences and choices. They didn’t need to be shared with others, especially others who had never gone down his path. He didn’t think Jack would look at him differently, but he could never be sure. His past had told him anything was possible.

  Now, he was on his own with no one to talk with, well, no one to talk with that would understand his situation. The people in his support group were most likely all dead or walking around the city looking for a bite of human flesh. For now, he’d have to rely on everything he’d learned, including his martial arts training which helped play a huge part in his recovery.

  Martial arts were always something he had been interested in, having grown up watching Bruce Lee movies as well as the great Shaw Brother’s films on Saturday afternoons. His sponsor, a practicing martial artist, brought him to an Aikido class and from there it was full steam ahead. After receiving his black belt in Aikido, Zaun moved on to Closed Crane Kung Fu, Kali-Silat, and combat Tai Chi. Martial arts supplied him with focus and an inner strength that he had never known.

  Zaun was a tough, strong-minded individual in a normal world where things could be controlled or managed, at least to some degree. The undead epidemic had shattered that. Things were turned upside down and inside out. Now he was in a place where he didn’t know if he’d make it to the next day.

  With determination, he turned away from the coke-packed locker and left the room. He marched through the apartment, making it to the front door and stopped.

  Maybe just a little taste before you go? The darkness whispered. Take some with you, just in case you need it.

  Zaun turned around and went back to the locker. Without thinking, he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the keys, not remembering taking them with him. He removed all the locks on the lockers, then opened the door to one. He felt the shadow burst with excitement again, screaming at him to take a sniff, just a sniff and all would be better.

  “Ten years sober,” he said aloud, his words hitting the shadow like a sledgehammer. He felt it cry out. It was angry. Maybe he’d kept it at bay for too long and now it was its turn?

  Didn’t people slip up? At least once? He hadn’t, at least not yet.

  “You can beat this,” he told himself. “You did it before. You can do it again. Others are counting on you. You’re part of a team.”

  Then just take some for later, the shadow suggested. Just in case. Better to have than to not have. It’ll keep you alert, focused.

  “No. Fuck you, you fuck.” Zaun slammed the locker onto his hand, the pain mind-clearing. Sobering.

  In a controlled rage, he began pulling the kilos from the locker, creating a pile on the floor. From there he carried the drugs into the living room. When he was finished, he went back and did the same for the next locker until all the lockers were empty and all the cocaine was in the living room. He raised one of the gates, then opened the window and began tossing the kilos out into the street.

  Chapter 25

  Jack awoke, his bladder feeling ready to burst. Maria was fast asleep next to him. He walked to the bathroom and relieved himself. Shaking the last few drops, he went to flush, stopping himself as his fingers touched the handle, the motion so ingrained he’d almost forgot not to do it. A small error like that and they could be overrun with undead.

  Heading back into the living room, he wondered where Zaun was. Not imagining the guy in either bedroom, he checked them anyway.

  Where the hell was Zaun?

  Son of a bitch, Jack thought and marched to the front door. Zaun’s M4 was resting against the wall. He looked through the peephole, making sure the hallway was safe, then pulled on the door knob, seeing if the lock was engaged.

  It wasn’t.

  He opened the door about a foot and stuck his head out. There was no way his friend went downstairs, and he doubted Zaun went to the roof.

  Jack slowly shook his head. That left only one place: 3F. Zaun couldn’t resist, could he? He simply had to see the place. Check it out for himself. This was bad. Really bad. Jack and Maria had trusted him. What the hell was he thinking, risking their lives for curiosity’s sake?

  Jack had to go get him before something terrible happened. Closing the door, he went back into the apartment and retrieved his gun belt and harness, wanting both sidearms with him.

  Heading back to the door, he paused, needing a moment to get himself under control. He was livid and needed to do this with a clear head. As long as Zaun was in 3F, the man was safe, but that didn’t mean Jack could take his time. He had to find Zaun and get back to the apartment before any undead came upstairs, or they’d have to fight their way back to 3R, the noise bringing a house full of undead to the floor.

  Jack turned the knob slowly and opened the door just enough to allow himself to slip into the hallway. The floor whined under his feet, causing his pulse to pound harder. The noise wasn’t too loud, but with the third floor so hushed, he had no idea what it would take to attract the zombies’ attention. He supposed the combination of their shuffling shoes, the rubbing of their clothing, and their banging into walls was enough to keep the undead from hearing the sound of Jack’s weight upon the floorboards.

  Reaching his destination, he opened the door and went in. A few feet away, Jack saw a pair of legs protruding from the bathroom’s doorway. Pulling out his .45, he walked forward and saw that it was the woman he’d killed earlier. Damn it, she must have been infected.

  Odd noises drew his attention away from the corpse. He continued down the hallway and into the living room where he found Zaun flinging what had to be drugs out the window.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Zaun dropped one of the packets, and spun around, sword in hand.

  “You scared the crap out of me, Jack.”

&nb
sp; “What are you doing?” Jack asked, holstering his weapon. Zaun’s face was pale. He looked terrible, like he’d heard truly awful news.

  “Tossing this shit out the window.”

  Taking a breath, trying to remain calm, Jack asked, “Why? And why’d you leave the apartment? You put all of our lives in jeopardy.”

  “I know,” he said, looking down. “I’m sorry. Wasn’t supposed to be long.”

  “Are those keys of coke?”

  “Yeah.” Zaun went on to explain how he had to use the bathroom and couldn’t stand to use the one in 3R. He figured going across the hall to a clean, fresh place wouldn’t hurt and he’d be back in no time. He was quieter than a mouse wearing booties, but while doing his business he was attacked by a zombie.

  “I saw that. Had no idea she was infected.” Thinking back: the woman did look a little sickly. He should have made sure. Lesson learned.

  Zaun told Jack about the lockers, then showed him the room.

  “Why not just leave the stuff alone?”

  “I’m a recovering drug addict,” Zaun said, then quickly filled Jack in about his past.

  “I had no idea.”

  “How could you? It was a long time ago, before I met you. I left that part of myself behind. For me, the want is always there. And lately it’s been difficult. All the killing; the death; the guns; the noise.” He shook his head. “The drugs, they’re a way out. A bullshit way, but a way. When I saw what was in the lockers I almost passed out from relief. I was tempted. Really tempted. I walked away, but found myself thinking about them as I did so. That shit is powerful, and I knew being across the hall that I wouldn’t be able to stop picturing those lockers and all the glorious evil they held. I had to do something so that I wasn’t tempted to come back over here and take some.” Zaun looked shaken. “I’m sorry, Jack. I know I really screwed up.”

  Jack wanted to ream him out. Tell him if he had listened in the first place, that none of this would’ve happened, but he held his tongue. What was done was done.

  “So you figured you’d give to them to the dead, ensuring there was no way you’d try for them?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jack saw that there were two kilos remaining. “Going to toss those?”

  Zaun nodded.

  “Then get to it. We need to leave.”

  Zaun picked up the last two keys and launched them out the window.

  “You realize you’ve stirred them up even more now?”

  “Yeah.” Zaun looked crushed; like a little kid informed that his favorite toy is gone.

  “And it’ll be that much longer before they leave.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry, but it was the only way. I couldn’t take a chance. Knowing that shit was here was just too much. I haven’t been right, not since the world went to hell.”

  At the front door, Jack looked through the peephole. A naked male zombie was standing near 3R’s door, slightly wobbling like a drunkard.

  “Shit.”

  “What is it?”

  “Undead right outside 3R.”

  “Only one?”

  “Yeah.”

  “We can take it out easily.”

  Jack turned and said, “It’s facing away from us. Kill it as quickly and as quietly as possible.”

  Zaun nodded.

  Putting his hands on Zaun’s shoulders, Jack asked him if he was going to be okay.

  “I’ll be fine. Leaving here will help.”

  “Good. Next time, talk to me. We’re all in this together and we’re all each other have.”

  Jack moved out of the way, giving Zaun room. Zaun opened the door, the hinges not making a sound and stepped out into the hallway.

  The zombie had various gashes and wounds along its back and legs, the sores infected, with a green tinge to them.

  Jack wondered how much longer it’d be before others came up the stairs.

  Zaun moved gradually, his steps appearing to be purposefully placed, as if avoiding invisible land mines. Jack knew the floor creaked, but had no idea exactly where, but was sure his friend did. Zaun had somehow memorized the noisy areas. The man was amazing when it came to such things.

  Jack waited with eager anticipation, wanting nothing more than the zombie dead and he and Zaun safely back inside 3R, but his fear came to fruition when the stairs began to creak. Looking through the rungs of the banister, he saw the blood-drenched head of a zombie.

  Zaun drew his sword and plunged the blade into the undead’s skull. The corpse went limp, acting like a corpse should. He turned around as Blood-Drenched reached the landing. Zaun backed away, leading the thing from the stairs. Halfway to Jack, he stopped, waited for the zombie, then jabbed his sword into its right orbital, obliterating the eyeball. The sword poked out the back of its head and the zombie went limp. Zaun caught it before it had a chance to crash to the floor and gently laid it down.

  Another zombie was coming up the stairs, an elderly, heavy-set member of the undead. Jack hoped this would be the last one. It lumbered slowly, wobbly on its feet. Four steps down from the top, it fell forward, its face landing on one of the stairs and knocking out its front teeth. Pushing itself back up, it lost its balance and fell backward, tumbling down the stairs.

  Jack felt the blood leave his face as the air rushed out of his lungs. That was it. The gig was up.

  Zaun met Jack’s eyes. “We’re fucked.”

  Jack pulled 3F’s door closed, unsure why, and ran to 3R, not worrying about being quiet any longer.

  With Zaun inside 3R, Jack closed and locked the door.

  “Maybe we’ll be all right,” Zaun said.

  “Go wake up Maria and prepare to leave.”

  “Maybe we should get to 3F while we can.”

  “We’d be stuck there indefinitely. We’ll stay here for as long as we can and if we have to leave at least we have the fire escape. Now go.”

  Jack turned to look through the peephole while Zaun went to wake Maria.

  Zaun had screwed up royally, putting them all in danger. Damn it. They could’ve been resting easy. Now they’d have the dead right outside the door, and with 3F’s door closed, the hallway was going to fill up quickly. He should’ve left the place open.

  Jack saw the first undead coming up the stairs. It was a male, dressed in a tuxedo, the white shirt with its fluffy front drenched crimson. Behind it was another elderly male zombie, its right eye dangling from the socket like an unfinished electrical outlet. Where the thing’s right ear used to be was a gaping hole of raw flesh. Right next to it was another member of the undead. They were walking hastily up the stairs, side by side.

  As the undead reached the top, they spread out in the hall, going this way and that, bumping into walls and each other. There was nowhere for them to go. Jack’s mouth went dry as he watched the torn and bloodied bodies mill about. The door thumped loudly as undead after undead slammed into it. Unable to look away, he watched as the floor quickly filled until his view was obstructed. Feeling the door bow inward, bending under the mass’ weight, he backed away.

  The undead were mindless, cramming the third floor, crushing each other. Continuing to retreat, he heard the wood splintering. Being quiet didn’t matter anymore; soon the zombies would be inside. But it wasn’t the door that gave way under the pressure of the dead, it was the hinges, the wood too rotted to hold. First, the top broke away, then the bottom. The door flew open and crashed to the floor. Undead poured into the apartment, falling onto one another, tripping each other up and slowing down the invading horde.

  “They’re inside,” Jack yelled as he ran into the living room. “We have to go.”

  Zaun’s and Maria’s faces wore masks of terror.

  “What?” Maria asked, seeming confused.

  “They’re inside,” Jack responded. “Get to the fire escape.”

  Arms filled with weapons and supplies, the group fell back to the window. Maria dropped her pack and started firing at the undead as they entered the living room area
. Zaun joined her as Jack opened the security gate and window.

  “Maria,” he yelled, “let’s go.”

  She stopped firing, grabbed her pack and came over to the window. Tossing her bag onto the fire escape, she climbed out after it. Jack blasted away at the undead, but for every one he dropped, two more took its place.

  The unnatural things collided into furniture, falling over the couch and table. They were like an unyielding force, a river. As they spread out, coming around the various pieces of furniture it became harder and harder to take them out.

  “Zaun,” Jack said, “you’re next.”

  “No, you first. This is my mess.”

  “Damn it.”

  Jack heard the sound of glass shattering behind him. He turned around and saw Maria smashing out the remaining shards of the barred window with the butt of her weapon. “Move your asses, gentlemen,” she ordered and began laying down cover fire.

  Jack crawled through the open window after having tossed his pack out. He yelled for Zaun, then broke the window’s upper section of glass and began firing into the apartment.

  Jack heard Zaun cry out. He glanced down to see his friend climbing from the window, a zombie holding onto his left leg, its jaws clenched around the calf.

  Jack soccer kicked the corpse in the head. He heard a loud snap as its head flew back, the zombie falling lifelessly back into the apartment.

  Jack pulled Zaun to him as he and Maria stood huddled against the railing, trying to get as far away from the reaching arms as possible. She continued firing at the undead as they attempted to make their way onto the fire escape.

  Looking down, Jack saw that a number of undead had gathered below, with more making their way down the alley. They had a decision to make—go down and fight, or head to the roof and hope for something better.

  “Up or down?” he asked, firing into the head of a badly burned corpse as it made its way through the window.

  With no time to reload, Maria and Zaun were down to using .9mm’s. Jack fired off the last shotgun shell in his weapon.

  With all the noise, the alley was filling up fast. He had to make a decision.