Run_Book 3_Long Road Home

by Rich Restucci

  The foursome made their way to the culvert and into the building. Richie was on guard duty again and he admitted them, turning the key the right way the first time, “Are we goin’ to Alc-traz today?”

  “Tomorrow, kiddo, as long as there aren’t any dead people near the truck.”

  “Where’s the other guys?” Richie looked at his feet. “They got them, huh.” It wasn’t a question.

  Abbey looked at the small boy. “Not yet, but they’re trapped in a truck, and we need to go back for them.”

  “Billy’ll get ‘em! He saves everybody.”

  They reached the floor where the rest of the kids were and sat down. A little girl was making place settings on a teacher’s desk for everybody to eat. Abbey was amazed at the resilience of the kids, who had undoubtedly endured horrors no child ever should. She looked at Dave and thought he looked much older than fourteen. She shifted her gaze toward their host. “So how do we get our friends, Billy?”

  “You got me. I have no idea. I guess I could go down there with my machete and go head hunting,” he winked at one of the kids and the kid smiled, “but there were thousands of deads down there. It would take a week and my swinging arm would get tired. I’m up for ideas.”

  “Is there any way we could kill them all at once?”

  “I can’t come up with anything. Dave, you got any ideas?”

  Dave thanked the little girl for the bottle of water she handed him. “Yup. What about a garbage truck?”

  “You been talking to Dallas? What about a garbage truck?”

  “Well, if we could get the armored trucks, why couldn’t we get a couple of garbage trucks? We weld mesh or something over the windows then drive right into the deaders. Use the garbage scoop to lift them up and drop them into the back of the truck. Then squish them with the compactor-thingie. When the truck is full, just spit them out the back.”

  Billy had his feet up on a desk, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head. He was wearing a huge smile. He looked at Tony. “I love this kid. Great idea, but I don’t know where any garbage trucks are…well, that isn’t exactly true, I know where there’s one.”

  Abbey thought for a moment. “There’s a bunch of garbage trucks at the transfer station down by the docks.”

  “Do they have welding equipment and metal bars and power, too?” demanded Tony. “We just don’t have the time for this type of operation. Not to mention that by now there’s another couple thousand cannibals trying to get at the guys in the truck. The noise the deaders are making would attract more deaders. Place is prolly full to burstin’ by now with pus sacks.”

  “So how do we get them?”

  Tony looked at his shoes. “Bait.”

  ***

  Tony, Billy, Abbey, and Dave were on the ninth floor of the Sessions building downtown. They stared down at the large white 8082 painted on the top of an armored truck in the center of a sea of living dead three blocks away. Tony passed a pair of binoculars to Billy, who scanned the area. The dead stretched for about a quarter-mile in either direction, pressed up against the store fronts, packed in like sardines. More were coming from the east and west, their slow stagger indicative of what they truly were.

  Tony swallowed. “Never seen a swarm that big before.”

  “Me neither,” agreed Billy nodding, “and I get around.”

  Tony looked at him. “Look, I know you ain’t playin’ with a full deck, but are you sure about this? I don’t think you’re comin’ back from that.” He pointed at the street.

  “They haven’t bitten me yet.”

  “Yeah, but what if one of them accidentally scratches you, or they have something sharp on them and you get cut? There’s a million ways they could infect you. Actually, with you using your machete, it’s a miracle you haven’t been infected already. Spray, I mean.”

  “Yeah. Ew. Well, I haven’t yet. And I seem to remember somebody, I think it was you when we were in the sewers, who said that I wouldn’t be coming back.” Billy looked at them and scowled. “I’ll be back,” he threatened, using his best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression.

  Nobody smiled.

  “Tough week. Nobody going to try to talk me out of this, huh?”

  “Damn whack job, I just tried! Don’t you think that…?” Tony stopped talking as a relatively loud diesel engine noise could be heard over the din of the moans and wails of the dead.

  Billy raised the binoculars again. “Um…you guys are seeing this right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Dave, you see a flat thing coming from the sky, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good man. Thought it might just be me.”

  The flat thing moved slowly toward the truck. It impacted the top right corner and spun away a little. It raised in the air, moved slightly, and came back down to rest on top of the vehicle. A few seconds later, the cable holding the flat thing sprang taut and the truck began to rise very slowly. The undead howls seemed to grow in intensity as their canned food moved out of reach. Several infected hung on, not wanting to be denied their meal. The truck rose higher and higher into the sky, the dead on the ground reaching for it as it climbed. Two of the mobile corpses let go and impacted their brethren below with crippling thuds. The others continued to hang on.

  Billy peered up above the giant magnet to the roof of the building down the street. “Huh. Big crane. Who would have thought?”

  “Can I see?” Abbey tapped Billy on the shoulder and he passed her the binoculars. “Oh.”

  “What is it?” demanded Tony harshly. “What do you see through those?”

  “I see a guy looking back at me through another pair of these.” She lowered the glasses and looked at Tony. “His are bigger.”

  Billy snatched the binocs back, once again looking at the roof. “Where? I don’t… Oh. Oh, this might not be so good.”

  “Why? What is it?”

  “Cyrus.”

  Dave moved forward and asked for the glasses. “Who’s Cyrus?” he asked as he put the glasses to his eyes.

  “Cyrus is a sociopath. Actually, I’m a sociopath, my doctor said he is a psychopath. I guess there’s a difference. Anyway, he’s really, really smart. And he likes to kill people. Seems he’s working with the perfect group too, because the guy standing with him is part of the New Society and they kill lots of people. He’s been chasing me for weeks.”

  “Why is he chasing you?” demanded Tony and Dave at the same time.

  Abbey looked at Billy a little differently. “And what doctor are you talking about?”

  Billy looked at them sternly. “We need to get the kids out of the city now. Right now.”

  “Billy,” began Abbey, “we need to get our friends back. I’m sure if we just talked to those guys, they would be willing to bargain or something. Like a ransom.”

  “Your friends are dead. They just don’t know it yet and I guess you don’t either. Those people are going to kill them, or torture and kill them. You can’t help them.” Billy pointed down the street and shook his head. “That’s Cyrus.”

  “But why would he…?”

  “Because that’s what he does!” Billy had shouted, ruining their noise discipline, and he looked embarrassed. “Now we really need to go, we can talk on the way.”

  Dave began packing up, but Tony and Abbey were resolute. Tony folded his arms. “Billy, we have to try to reason with them to get our friends back.”

  “Knock your socks off. Go wade through that,” he pointed at the swarm, “to get to him,” he pointed at Cyrus, “and reason your butt off. All you’ll have is no socks, no butt, and no friends. Dave, you with me?”

  Dave had his backpack already shouldered. “Yup.”

  Tony was incredulous. “Dave…”

  “They were my friends, too,” the boy began, “but I also know those gang bangers. I don’t know this Cyrus guy, but if he’s with the gang, Steve, Derek, and Tony are gone.” Dave looked at his shoes. “They knew the risks just like we did when we ca
me out here. If I could save them, I would. The gang will make them tell where Billy’s hideout is and then the kids will get caught up in whatever stuff is going on. Maybe Tony can ninja his way out.” He looked at Billy. “I’m ready.” He stuck his hand out to Tony. “The keys to the truck.”

  Tony looked at Abbey and back at Dave then he sighed. “I’ll drive.”

  High above Broadway, San Francisco

  The tires of truck 8082 came to rest on the newly constructed roof of what had been intended to be an office building in downtown San Francisco. The wheels of the vehicle groaned in protest as the short flight they had taken had somehow relieved them of their duties, if only for a moment, and now they were back at work.

  Steve looked at Derek and Tony. “Did that just happen?”

  Derek blinked hard. “Jesus! I think I shit myself. Let’s get out of here before…” Derek had placed his hand on the passenger door handle, but Tony yelled at him, “Don’t touch that fucking door!” Derek ripped his hand away from the door as if it had burned his fingers, staring at Tony.

  “Why?”

  “Because we don’t know who brought us up here.”

  “Who gives a fuck? It’s better than where we were!”

  A single shot rang out and the men in the truck cringed. A moment later, a young man stepped up on the side-step of the truck and knocked on the window. “Hey, don’t worry, we just shot a hitchhiker you brought up with you. Open up and we’ll get you out of here to someplace safe.”

  Derek reached for the handle again. “I will cut your fucking hand off,” Tony growled. The handle again appeared to be a thousand degrees as Derek yanked his hand away. He rolled the bulletproof window down slightly. “Who are you?”

  The man looked incredulous. “I’m the guy who just saved your ass. Come on, we don’t have much time.”

  “My friend in here doesn’t trust new people,” Derek told him. “We might want to have you back up a little before we get out.”

  “Seriously? I just brought you out of Hell with a giant fuckin’ magnet and you’re cryin’ about it?” The man shrugged. “Sure, okay, I’ll back up.” He stepped off the truck and slung his carbine, putting his hands up in placation.

  “Good enough for me,” Derek said and opened the passenger side door. He stepped out, brandishing his rifle, and Tony slammed the door closed behind him. Tony shook his head. “Idiot.”

  Several other men, all armed, walked up to Derek and began clapping him on the shoulder and shaking his hand. “C’mon, man, we really gotta go!” one man shouted at Tony through the glass.

  “Steve, start the truck.”

  Steve did and the men, including Derek, backed up slightly. They stood there for thirty seconds in a standoff before one of the men spoke, “Alright, fuck this.” He put his shotgun up to Derek’s head and another man removed his weapons. Derek raised his hands.

  “You got ten seconds to get your asses out of the truck or I fuck up the paint job with your buddy’s brains.”

  Inside the truck, Steve swallowed hard. “Tony, they’re gonna—”

  “Yeah, Steve. Dumbass should’ve stayed in here with us.”

  The man with the shotgun counted down from ten. When he reached one, he put the weapon to his shoulder and yelled, but didn’t pull the trigger. Frustrated, he passed his gun to one of the other men and pulled a knife. “Fine, assholes. Hold him.” The others held Derek and the man grabbed his hand. He put his knife to Derek’s pinky finger and shaved off most of the flesh on the inside of it. To Derek’s credit, he didn’t scream; he just ground his teeth and shut his eyes. The man then drew the knife across Derek’s forearm. Blood welled up and began to drop to the roof in crimson splashes.

  “I can do this all day, motherfuckers!” He jabbed the point of the blade into Derek’s right thigh.

  Derek went absolutely ape-shit and broke free of his attackers. He punched one and grabbed another, biting the man in the face. He spit out a large chunk of cheek and the man dropped his weapon and began screaming. “Holy shit, how did he turn? We didn’t kill him yet!” The men began to back away with their rifles aimed at Derek.

  Derek pulled a small pistol hidden in his waistband, aiming it at the men. “I didn’t turn, you sick fucks, I just…” A shot rang out and Derek spun around, dropping to the ground, clutching his shoulder. Two more men, one an obvious gangbanger, the other a shorter man with glasses, strode forward from behind the crane. The gangbanger had shot Derek and he kicked the pistol away from him. The banger looked at his gang. “Fuckin’ morons. How many times I gotta tell you? Pat them the fuck down!” He walked back to the gang and spoke to one of the men who climbed the crane. A moment later, the truck’s wheels groaned again as they left the roof. The truck spun out into space, twenty-two stories in the air above a swarm of several thousand hungry undead. The armored vehicle spun such that the windshield faced the building.

  “Last chance, motherfuckers,” said the tough guy who had shot Derek.

  Steve frantically put his hand on the windshield and started to scream.

  Tony flipped the man off and the man shook his head. He glanced at the crane operator and drew his finger across his throat. The man in the crane pushed a lever forward and the electro-magnet shut off.

  The truck plummeted approximately two hundred and forty feet, back into the unwavering arms of the swarm. Masta G watched as 8082 popped like a grape underfoot upon impact. Infected under the truck were put out of their misery. The creatures that were on the outside edge of the newly formed crater in the street were thrown back as far as was possible into the thick crowd. They got back up quickly and fought for position at the truck. Masta G turned around when he saw the corpses crawling into the destroyed vehicle. He rolled his eyes and looked at his troops. “Didja pat him down?”

  The men looked sideways at each other. Masta G sighed. “Next time, I’ma shoot a bitch. Motherfuckers is too poor to pay attention.” He strode toward Derek. “You got any guns or knives on you? It will go better for you if you tell me the truth.”

  Derek sat up clutching his shoulder. “No. These dickweeds took my bat and you have my guns.”

  G got on his haunches and looked at his captive eye to eye. “You have no idea what I gotta deal with, bro. Just answer some questions and we’ll let you live.”

  Derek laughed at him. “Cut the shit, pal. We both know what happens. I’ll tell you what you want to know then you’ll man up and shoot me in the head.”

  “I wish I had some guys like you, I really do. You got stones. Dumb as shit for getting out of the truck, but you got big ones.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m alive, they ain’t.”

  Masta G nodded in affirmation then pointed the gun at Derek’s groin. “Where’s Billy?”

  Fell Street, San Francisco

  Armored truck 8081 was a mile away from the Woodrow Wilson School, traveling slowly. Sporadic infected lurched toward the truck as it drove by, but none came from houses or alleys. It seemed their attention was elsewhere.

  Abbey stared at Billy for a moment. He had his hand out the open bulletproof window, his palm flat, and riding the air currents of the moving vehicle.

  “So…what did you mean by your doctor said you were a sociopath?”

  “Wow, really? I guess you didn’t know that I’m certifiable.” Billy scrunched his face up in thought. “I don’t really know what that means, but I was in the booby hatch for six years, so you can imagine the things they said to me.”

  Abbey looked at him funny. “Booby hatch?”

  Billy stopped riding the currents and turned toward Abbey. “Yeah, booby hatch. You know, loony-bin? Nut house? Whack shack?”

  She stared at him blankly.

  “Wow. Okay, funny farm, rubber room, cuckoo’s nest?”

  Abbey blinked. “You mean an insane asylum?”

  Incredulous, Billy shook his head slowly. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  Dave got into the conversation. “You mean you were locked
up?”

  Billy nodded. “Yeah. They had the best cherries jubilee at Morningside.”

  Tony kept his eyes on the road, but had to join the conversation too. “You were at Morningside?”

  “What are you, a gaggle of parrots or something? Yeah. Morningside. I lived there for almost six years.”

  “Why were you there?” demanded Abbey.

  “And they called me crazy… I. Lived. There.”

  “But why did they make you live there?”

  “Didn’t Rick or that other cop tell you guys?”

  Tony cut in, “Abbey, Morningside is a sanitarium for the criminally insane.”

  Billy put a finger on his nose. “Waarrrp! You got it! Give that man a cigar! That’s me, criminally insane. Except for the whole criminal part. I didn’t do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “What they stuck me in there for.”

  “Which was…”

  Billy looked at the three of them, one at a time. “Rick really didn’t tell you? Huh. Thought the other cop would have blabbed for sure. He knew me; I saw it the second he looked at me.” Billy sighed. “I was wrongly incarcerated for killing a dentist. But I didn’t do it,” he added hastily, “I mean, I was going to do it, but someone beat me to it. Besides, I would have been quick and clean, whoever got there first was…messy.”

  “Wait. Wait a minute,” demanded Tony. “The dentist in Presidio Heights, about five years ago?”

  “Six!”

  “Jesus, that was you?”

  “Does nobody ever listen? No, it was not me. It was someone else. They chopped him up into little pieces, but they knew how to do it so he would live through most of it. Like I said, it was messy.”

  They pulled up in front of the school and filed out of the truck toward the Cadillac in the ditch. When they were in the basement, Tony put a hand on Billy’s shoulder and turned him around. “Billy, what exactly happened between you and the dentist?”

  “He was a nasty pedophile. He hurt kids, but no one could prove it. The cops wouldn’t even listen to her. She told me what he did and I went to the cops, but they said he couldn’t have done such terrible things and told me to leave. Two days later, she went missing.”