His footsteps stumbled away. Dimitri released me, the slick black vines of his mind uncurling from around me. My will vacuumed back into me and I ran to my balcony. Dimitri stood next to me and laid his hand on my back, a warm, calming balm. Emmanuel fell out the door, stumbled off the sidewalk and landed in the street, his whole body violently shaking. "He's seizing," I said.
"The final stage before he turns," Dimitri answered.
It was agonizing minutes before Emmanuel stopped shaking. He slowly climbed to his feet. His head swiveled, first looking one way, then the other. He started off to the south, toward the fire, his steps no longer human, instead his gait was shuffling and disjointed.
"Have you been with him?" Dimitri asked.
I didn't answer, just watched Emmanuel's stilted walk.
"Answer me," Dimitri commanded.
"We just kissed," I said.
"You are his?" he asked, his voice soft.
"I thought I was claimed by Megan."
"I'm not sure you can be claimed," he said.
"Why not?"
"I don't understand," Dimitri said.
"Will you leave me?" I asked.
"I don't want to," he answered.
"I want you to."
"Pearl commanded that I leave you here and so I will. But in twenty-four hours I will be back."
"Thank you."
Dimitri nodded. He caressed my cheek, his eyes flashing gray for a second before he turned away. Jumping off my balcony he blurred from sight. With him went his influence and for the first time since seeing Megan again my emotions were my own.
I felt too much, a crippling amount wracked through me. I clutched at the railing of my balcony, but couldn't keep myself from falling to my knees, then over into the fetal position, sobs so strong I thought that I may never breathe again. I wondered for a brief moment if I would die here, crying myself to death. Colors flashed before my eyes, all of the feelings and thoughts a blur of pain.
I bit down on my lip, trying to pull myself back. A part of me knew what needed to be done. I could almost hear my father's voice. "What do we do when we fall down, Darling?"
"We get back up," I said aloud, fighting through the tears, concentrating on evening out my breathing. It was real, I knew that now, all my memories of him. Of the life we'd shared. All the things that for years, for years, I'd tried to forget, ignore, deny, they were coming back to me. I remembered his voice. And it urged me on.
Using the railing, I pulled myself back up, taking a moment to look down at the street below. It was all quiet, nothing moving, not even the stray cats were out today. Everyone was hiding in their holes.
Walking back into the apartment I closed and locked the balcony doors behind me.
I went into my kitchen and immediately noticed a note on the refrigerator. It was in neat black handwriting, written out on a page of notebook paper. Issa left it under a magnet from a takeout place around the corner.
Dear Darling,
I hope that you receive this letter. Please try to call me. Phones will probably be out soon but it's worth a try. 555-6656. If you cannot reach me by phone please try me at the hospital. If the hospital has fallen, try my apartment. 56 Deaf Boulevard, #3b. If you do not find me there, or if I die, please go to 67 Adam's Way. They can help you. Explain that I sent you.
It is vitally important that you reach me, Darling. Try to find me. Use your strength.
I have information about your father but more important, I think that you can save the world.
Dr. Issa Tor
I actually laughed out loud at the last line of the note. But I tried to call him. The phone lines were all busy. I bit down on my lower lip listening to the beep beep beep. Replacing my phone on its receiver I checked my cell phone. Plenty of bars but a recorded message told me that the caller was out of service.
A shower, I thought. I'll take a shower. In my bathroom I felt him all of a sudden, caught Issa's scent in my nose. My eyes were drawn to my trash can where several bloody bandages lay. They must be his, I realized. What did this mean? Could I find him using those? Then why wouldn't he just say that? Why be so damn cryptic?
I turned on the shower and was relieved to discover that despite the lack of phones there was still hot water. How long would it be before the electricity went out? I wondered. How long until everything was over? Could it really be stopped? Why did Issa think I could stop it?
Questions to answer. I'd head to the hospital I decided, peeling off the sweats and T-shirt covered in Megan's scent. But only after I went to the cemetery. I wanted to talk to that woman again. Now that I understood some things. I wanted to see her again. Besides, I thought, a lump rising in my throat, she may want to know about Emmanuel. Maybe there was something she could do. I pushed those thoughts aside, focusing my mind on preparing for the journey ahead.
Clean, a towel wrapped around me, I went to my closet. Pulling out my suitcase and a rack of shoes, I got to the back panel and banged on the upper left hand corner. It popped open. Inside were two crossbows, one child size and the other meant for a man. They'd been in that kitchen cabinet with me. I remember clutching onto the smooth wood as the same social worker who told me my father was just a figment of my imagination, that my life up until the moment I met her was all just a "coping mechanism" informed me the crossbows belonged to the dead man in the apartment where they found me. That I had to give them up.
Megan helped me get them back. We filed paperwork and made phone calls. Eventually, they were located and my identity confirmed as the little girl who was found at that horrific scene. We paid for the shipping and when they arrived in Crescent City, I took one look at them and threw up. Knowing that they were from a different place, one I hoped, begged the universe, I hadn't imagined. And as I looked at them now I knew they were real, my father had been real, I was not crazy. Dr. Issa Tor had promised me information about my father but I didn't really need it. No one knew him like me.
I brought out my father's bow first. Used for hunting deer it was armed with knife-tipped arrows. The kind that could get straight to a deer's heart, or a zombie's brain, I figured.
I blew dust off its gleaming wooden surface and checked to make sure it was still in order before placing it on my bed. Pulling out the smaller bow I looked at it. Really, it was still more my size than the one my father had used but its wooden-tipped arrows might not be that useful.
I placed it next to the larger one and looked down at them for a moment before getting dressed. I put on yoga pants and a tight T-shirt, all black. Tying my hair into a tight bun I checked the clock, 4 pm. Looking out the window, I figured I had at least two hours before sunset. I didn't know how long it would take me to get to the cemetery but I wanted to arrive as the day turned to night. It was too early to go.
I thought about trying to sleep but knew that I'd never be able to get any rest. My mind was running too fast, my emotions far too hot. Instead I turned to my violin case, almost afraid to open it and find my instrument crushed. But there it was, its same gleaming self. Picking it up I knew what would come out. I could feel the need to play, my hands were shaking but I knew that they would steady against the strings. Pulling out the bow, its familiar shape helped to ground me.
Closing my eyes I laid the bow to the strings and pulled it across, letting out a low chord, dark and sad. Back again and I went up a chord, hearing the sound vibrating through the violin, into my chin, down my neck and hitting me in the heart, echoing what I felt there. Then I was off, playing so hard that hair escaped from my well-placed bun, flopping over my face, dancing with the sounds that I made.
It was a song that Megan and I wrote soon after moving to Crescent City. It had stayed a favorite not only of ours but also of our fans in the following ten years. I hadn't played it since she disappeared but now it came out of me like water rushing over a fall, landing into a fathomless pond and bubbling against the shore.
The song ended with Megan's a cappella, singing the chorus agai
n. As I stilled my bow I could almost hear her, Father, Forgive my sins, and let me in. Let me in.
<<<<>>>>
"Why did you want to go to the cemetery first, why not try to find Dr. Tor? The man who'd promised you information about your father?"
Darling nodded her head and reached out to play with one of the empty beer cans on the table between us. "I," she sighed. "I thought that Dr. Issa Tor was almost too easy." She looked up at me, for just a moment, to gauge my reaction. "The woman in the cemetery, Suki or whatever you want to call her, I knew she was a liar. I knew she was a sneak. And so I thought I knew what she was. I had no idea what Dr. Tor was about. Directing me to strange addresses where some 'people' were going to help me." She laughed softly, shaking her head. "I hadn't trusted people for a long time. Especially not ones that would consider themselves authorities. And that's the vibe I got from Issa. That he was a part of the authority. Besides, I knew my father was real, he'd confirmed that as far as I was concerned. So I didn't think I needed to know anything else."
"Do you still think that?"
"I'd be hard pressed to find a belief I had then that I still have now." Darling picked up her pack of cigarettes and fiddled with it for a moment before continuing.
<<<<>>>>
CHAPTER SEVEN
I left an hour before sunset, my father's crossbow slung across my back, my child size one bungeed to the back of my bike. Using an old leather belt I'd fashioned a holder for two of our kitchen knives, one on each of my hips. Around my waist I'd secured a thick chain. I walked out to the balcony and looked up and down the street before heading downstairs. A trash bag floated on the breeze, making the wind's whims obvious to me. The smoke from the fires was headed north along with the white plastic bag. I was headed southwest so would be downwind from most anything I'd run into. I took a deep breath, smelling that toxic mix of burning buildings and meat.
On the street I felt exposed. I pushed my bike out of the doorway, searching up and down again and then climbed on. I stayed in the center of the road so that I could see into each doorway and behind every car. The bars that usually would have been full of early drinkers were empty, their doors locked, shutters padlocked over the windows. I wondered if there were people inside. Hiding from the death that wandered the streets. Or perhaps they'd all been rounded up. Maybe they would be safe. I thought of the camps Pearl talked about and I wondered how many people were there. How many would be okay with it, how many would fight and die? I wondered if their death would feel as good as Megan's taking from me. I shuddered at the memory, feeling a mix of want and revulsion.
I heard a sound coming from a doorway and turned to see what was once a woman walking repeatedly into a door. I peddled faster, trying to put distance between me and the thing, my heart beating faster as my legs pumped. I turned onto Stargunt Avenue and had to brake hard as I saw about ten of them just swaying in the middle of the block. I backed up slowly, planning to continue on Dover Avenue.
They started toward me slowly, but as they moved forward their momentum built so that their speed increased. I tore my eyes off of them and began to pedal again, fear pushing me forward. I could hear them behind me, some of them moaning, all of them hurrying after me, their footsteps heavy on the pavement that I cruised over.
I took a sharp left, turning up Munkin Boulevard and then hit the brakes seeing another group of them. They were on the ground, hunched over a bloody pile. I swallowed hard trying to keep from retching at the smell coming off of them. I took to the sidewalk and pedaled faster than ever before, standing up, pushing forward. I flew by them. When I looked back a few were staring after me. The group that had been following me turned the corner and ran through them, falling over them, all of them going down in a big tangled mess of bloody limbs and soulless eyes.
I didn't look back again concentrating on getting to the cemetery. I turned left again onto Stargunt Avenue and heard a woman scream as I flew by an open door. Turning to check behind me I saw a few zombies turn the corner, their arms outstretched toward me. "Help!" came a voice from inside the open door.
I couldn't ignore her plea and pedaled over to the opening, riding right into the room. It was dark and my eyes took just a second too long to adjust. Suddenly I was knocked off my bike and there was a small man, or what was left of him, reaching toward my arm with his mouth. I punched hard with my free fist and he fell to the side but only for a second, then he was back on me.
My left leg was tangled under my bike but I kicked out hard with my right sending him off me again long enough to grab the knife off my right hip. When he came back I held it up and the creature stabbed itself right in the eye. I pushed it off me with the hilt of the knife and stumbled to my feet, grabbing for the door.
A zombie, her face pale and bloated, reached out to me but I slammed the door shut, leaning against it. I looked around and saw a dining room chair near at hand. I grabbed it and pushed it under the knob. Then I stepped back slowly, the door rattling on its hinges as the group of zombies pressed against it.
Looking around the room I saw I was in a bar. In fact, I'd played here before. There was a small stage and just a couple of tables but the place would get wild. Loud and raucous, it was an awesome place to gig. In the low light I saw legs sticking out from behind the wooden bar. I circled around slowly. It was a woman. A waitress I recognized. I couldn't remember her name but she always gave me a warm smile and had an easy laugh.
Her throat was ripped out, face pale. I knelt down and felt for a pulse at her wrist. She was warm but there was no heartbeat. Walking back over to the dead zombie I pulled my knife from his eye and approached the woman. "God forgive me," I said, before plunging it into her eye, and through her brain.
There was a back door to the bar that opened up to a deserted alley. I rode my bike slowly toward the edge of the street and then looked back at the entrance. At least twenty zombies were pressing against the door of the bar. I turned away from them and continued toward the cemetery. The sun was getting low in the sky now and I wanted to get there before it turned the world pink and soft. That's when I thought she was likely to hear me best.
When I rode through the cemetery gates I threw my bike down, dashed back to the entrance and grabbing the two doors slammed them together with a clang that rang out loudly. Taking the chain and lock from around my waist I circled it through each door of the gate, the metal banging together, knocking off bits of the old black paint. I secured the chain with the lock and then turned back to my bike, and the rest of the cemetery, pulling my bow off my back and raising it up to my eye.
Left, right, both aisles were clear, quiet. The mausoleums looked undisturbed, like no one had been there and nobody cared; crumbling walls, patches of grass growing everywhere they could. Life, I thought, it doesn't give up that easy. There must be something that can be done. Some way to stop this madness.
I edged forward, moving around my bike, looking down the barrel of my bow. Reaching the next line I pressed my back against the mausoleum to my left and listened hard. I could hear sirens far in the distance but nothing close.
One quick step out in the aisle looking left, clear, spinning, crouching, looking right. A figure was turning toward me. Its sandy blonde hair fell down its back to just above its shoulder blades. It wore a pink shirt with a collar and khaki shorts. The zombie turned slowly, its body leaning to one side, hunched and unnatural.
I waited for it to face me, sweat running down my back, my breath shallow. Its gaze was down, bangs hanging over it. As the dead woman raised her head to look at me I saw her eyes glowing an eerie green in the half light. I took a deep breath, released it, and pulled the trigger. My arrow pierced her in the eye. The zombie's legs buckled under her and she fell to the ground in a heap of limbs.
I checked behind me quickly, to my right, to my left, then approached her. Bracing my foot against her shoulder I reached down and pulled my arrow out. It made a sickening suction noise as it slid slowly from within her scalp.
Placing the arrow back in my clip I held up the bow again. The sun was sinking lower, the shadows growing darker, as I cleared the rest of the cemetery. My father's bow was heavy in my arms. The muscles screamed in pain, searing and hot. By the time I was done the bow was shaking with the spasm of my muscles.
I worked my way back to Suki's resting place stopping in the center aisle to look back at the main gate. A single zombie was there. When it saw me the thing’s arms stretched through the gate, fingers kneading at the air, a sob-like sound escaping from its bloated body. The thing had probably only been dead a couple of hours. Its body was filling with gasses. I wondered if pools of blood were gathering under the skin at its feet. Or if gravity, like death, had no hold on that thing.
Suki's mausoleum was covered in sugar packets, pieces of gum, beads, cash, paper notes, and mini bottles of liquor. I was not the only one who thought she may be able to help. I reached into the small pocket of my yoga pants and pulled out a sugar packet placing it on the ledge, then picked up a broken piece of brick and scratched three question marks into the soft cement of the mausoleum. Please talk to me, I thought, closing my eyes, seeing the need radiating out of me behind my lids. That glowing map again.
A clang at the gate snapped my eyes open and I raised the bow again. The adrenaline in my system made it lighter. I walked to the main aisle and checked the entrance. Now there were four zombies out there, all pressing against the metal. I wondered how many it would take to rip the rusted hinges from the powdery cement that formed the front wall.
I turned back to Suki's gravesite and lowered my bow. Thinking about the last time she came to me. I wondered if I needed to cry onto the sugar packet. Or maybe it was the time of day. It was almost dark now, the west horizon bright orange. The smoke in the south looked like a black storm. The glow from the fire at its base made it almost look like there were two sunsets.
Two Kiss: An Apocalyptic Urban Fantasy (Transmissions from the International Council for the Exploration of the Universe Book 2) Page 5
