Palimpsest (Book 3): Coins for Charon

by P. J. Post

  Jesus.

  Our psychotic little band is down to Casey and Holly, Jem and Emily and me and Samantha, Pixie and now, Cam. I wonder if Cam wants to join the Pixie Girls.

  Freemont sucks.

  I wish we’d never had to come here.

  §§§§§

  The fear of Ebola contagion ignites the riot that’s been brewing ever since all these poor wretches crawled into this slaughterhouse.

  It’s the match.

  No one has thought about the stairs yet, but they’ll be coming.

  I swear the Button Eyes are more agitated now, like they’re aware that something’s up.

  “How’s your head?” I ask Jem.

  “Not as bad, hurts.”

  “Mine too, but not as much.”

  Cam takes the lead and races up to the third-floor balcony.

  Holly leads Casey, and Samantha and Emily bring up the rear.

  Pixie runs in and out between our legs.

  She’s beginning to worry me, but maybe she’s discovering her powers too, learning. She’s a puppy after all.

  Fuck, we’re all puppies.

  “It’s bad,” Cam says from the railing.

  Refugees have pushed into the glass, huge panels have shattered. Button Eyes are climbing in through the gaps, pushing tables and boxes and chairs out of their way. Some stupid son of a bitch opened the exit doors, and refugees are trying to fight through the Button Eyes, to where?

  “Up,” I say, nodding to the roof.

  I can already hear people rushing up the stairs behind us, and the creatures that are following them.

  We run down the balcony, past half-opened red doors, ignoring the darkness beyond and up the stairs to the small, snow-covered roof garden we came through before.

  “Lock the doors?” Samantha asks.

  Cam and me stare at each other.

  “What about your men?” I ask Cam.

  “I told them I was throwing in with you before, I saw them head out through a pair of maintenance doors. They’re survivors, but they’re not going to be following us up here if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Can we kill all of these other people to save ourselves, to save Samantha, and Emily and Holly and little Casey?

  The first thing up the stairs is a Button Eye.

  It’s already too late.

  “Fuck them,” I say, and Cam shoves a snow shovel through the door handles.

  This is where we landed when we dropped down from the brick wall behind the Tweed and Feed. Our duffel bags are here, so we’re back where we started.

  “Where to? We can’t stay here.” Samantha says.

  The wharf or docks are across the street in front of us.

  “We need…” I begin.

  The foghorn of a ship sounds from out on the river, echoing throughout the valley, controlled sequenced blasts that probably mean something.

  We all run to the far railing of the garden to see the familiar orange and white of a Coast Guard Cutter surrounded by a frothy wake aiming for the docks. It’s small, old and rusty. I can just make out the uniformed Guardsmen manning their stations. This is the first time I’ve seen anyone from our government since the first few weeks. It’s a beautiful sight even if it is beat to shit.

  But now, as it gets closer and I get a good look, it’s even smaller than I thought.

  “Cam, how many of these stores have people hiding in them?” I ask, pointing to the street.

  “The folks in the food court said people ran inside and closed up the doors, all up and down through here,” he says.

  “That boat’s not big enough, and you know these assholes downstairs, they’re going to panic and sure as shit, they’ll fuck this whole thing up.”

  “Thanks for the update, Captain Obvious, so what do we do?” Cam asks.

  The glass doors rattle as Button Eyes pile up against it.

  I set Jem down.

  She looks up, scared.

  “I’m still here, but we have work to do, like back at the farmhouse, remember?”

  She nods.

  I kiss the top of her head as Samantha asks, “Should we try for the boat?”

  “Or try to get out a different way?” Holly asks, her voice even — older.

  Cam looks across Freemont to the church steeple and then shakes his head. “It was a tough fight to get here, there’s nothing useful that way, at least no way to get to the river, no other boats. We had to go the last few blocks in the sewers, came up in that courtyard at the end of the block. We spent the morning drying out and getting hassled by those Crayton pricks before we heard you blowing up the town.”

  “Part of one block, barely,” I say.

  Sam raises an eyebrow.

  I take a look around and then to my…is it even right to think of them as my family, considering everything that’s happened?

  I guess there’s nothing written that says they have to love me back.

  I give all of them a hard look. They’re sad and confused and still trying to figure out who to trust, and who to fear…

  I grab the rail and try to get a better look down the block.

  The Cutter is getting closer.

  The fighting downstairs is turning from triumphant gunfire to screams of agony.

  We need to go. “Load your guns, get everything else into one pack each, bring all the ammo you can carry, extra clips, whatever you got. Hurry, Samantha, Holly, help the kids. We’re going to get on that goddamned boat.”

  I unzip the last ammo bag, trying not think about the shit I went through to get it here, and begin rummaging. Cam whistles. “You’re still hoarding. Haven’t you been warned about that?”

  “Yeah, well, I’m keeping the grenades anyway, and the .45 shells and mags, and the .38s and .22 shorts. I guess the rest doesn’t matter anymore.”

  I grab the incendiary satchel just in case we need to melt something else.

  “Shame, but we can’t use it,” Cam says. “Dead weight.”

  It doesn’t take long for all of us to have loaded guns and plenty of ammo for whatever comes our way, except Casey. I need to get her shooting shit.

  Maybe tomorrow.

  The Cutter is slowing. I’m guessing they’re trying to figure out how to play this. There’s survivors here, but even if they’ve never seen the Button Eyes, something fucked up is going on down on the street, the fight has long since spilled out of the food court.

  But there’s nowhere for the survivors to go.

  Some have made it to the water, men and women and even a few kids, but the bloody slicks on the surface tell the story. Soon enough, they’re bobbing.

  I step up onto the garden railing and wave my arms.

  I quick burst of the horn says they see me. Now I just need to figure out how to get across the last thirty feet to the river.

  “What’s that?” Casey asks. “Down there?”

  I follow where she’s pointing. At the end of the block is a framed structure almost two stories high, thick and black. A brilliant blue and white banner still hangs from the top: On the River: Fall Festival.

  The structure extends all of the way to the river, with an opening for foot traffic over the boardwalk and another for cars over the street.

  I noticed it before but thought it was narrow, not sure anyone wanted another shot at playing the circus act.

  I know I don’t.

  But I have a better angle on it now; the top is probably two feet wide.

  “That’s our out,” Cam says. “I forgot about it because the dock ends way up the street there, and the boardwalk ends at the gate, we’d have nowhere to go except for a swim, but with the Coast Guard, it’ll take us as far as we need to go. It’s like a bridge, we can jump from the top to the upper deck of the boat, no problem.”

  “Another bridge, that’s not right, is it? I don’t think that’s right,” Emily says as she takes a step back.

  I squeeze her shoulder and she looks up, worried,

  Cam decides for all of u
s. “Let’s go.”

  Emily yelps as he takes her from me and sets her down on the next rooftop over before hopping the fence himself.

  We all try to ignore the screams and the gunshots from below as we get the kids and Pixie over the fence.

  “We’re going to make it,” Samantha says.

  “That’s what you keep saying,” I say.

  “And, aren’t we making it?”

  “What about Keats and Brenda, Carlton?”

  “I never said they were going to make it, but we will…I know we will. We have to.”

  I kiss her again, her lips are cold now, and then I help her over the fence.

  I follow the others, carefully walking along the slanted and still snow covered roof, hanging on to the ridgeline to our right.

  Samantha is helping Holly Hawk balance, Emily’s with Cam, and Jem and Casey are with me. Jem is wicked tough, but Jesus, I can’t imagine what she’s going through. She’s still marching strong, though, even helping me keep an eye on Casey, but losing her mom, the rejection, shooting her…

  That’s beyond fucked up.

  The volume on the buzzing is down, more of a low murmur now, like a flock of birds down the block, it’s bearable. I wonder if the same is true for Jem, she said some weird shit — I don’t think I’m alone with any of this.

  It has to be coming from Pixie, the wonder dog.

  She’s just hopping through the snow, playing like she doesn’t have a care in the world, maybe she doesn't.

  “I think we can make it,” Cam calls from up ahead. “Look, the next roof is lower; we can just walk from there — easy.”

  “If it pulls in close enough,” Samantha says.

  “Just watch your step, hang on to the kids,” I say.

  The streets are already calming down, the Battle for the Freemont Food Court didn’t take long. The boardwalk belongs to the Button Eyes again.

  As we get to the last roof, the gray clouds are giving way to pewter ones. The east is black. True dark is returning, the emergency lights are gone.

  The Cutter is like an open door, a real chance for escape, for freedom — rescue, and suddenly I’m terrified I won’t be able to deliver the kids to the other side. I can’t fail anymore.

  Cam jumps to the lower roof and we drop the kids to his waiting arms. After everyone else is safely down, I pick up Pixie and drop over the side. She feels different now. She’s grown, but it’s more than that.

  She looks up at me, and licks my cheeks.

  I’d swear she’s smiling, as if reassuring me that everything is going to be okay — just like Samantha.

  The Cutter suddenly flips on searchlights, washing the length of the dock in hope, and just like that, night becomes day.

  The chance to live feels real again — within reach.

  The Button Eyes immediately turn and begin walking into the river.

  Can they drown?

  Shit, if they live or whatever it is, they’ll infect everything downstream too.

  And then the boat begins to slowly move closer.

  A searchlight is following us, so they know we’re here. I point to the bridge, hoping they understand what I mean.

  Cam called it, the next roof is flat and it takes no time for us to line up at the gate.

  It’s only a couple of feet down and I was right about the width, it’s two feet easy. We can walk across, no sweat, and the upper deck of the Cutter should be an easy jump.

  Fuck me, after all the running and hiding, the death, the just…the fuck-all of fighting all day, every day, and trying not to die, this feels like a miracle.

  Samantha turns and kisses me. “I told you so.”

  Everyone still looks sad, but a lot happened in the last half-hour, acceptance and forgiveness are going to take some time.

  They can hate me all they want, as long as I get them on that goddamned boat.

  “Cam, we need to burn Freemont, all of these Button Eyes, we can’t let them wander off,” I say.

  “I think we take our chances, dude, let’s get on out of Dodge, what do you say?”

  “I have an idea. There’s some gas tanks a block over, I can rig something, start a fire and hope it sets them off, be back before...”

  Sam stares at me. “Have you lost what little mind you have left? I pull a gun out of your mouth a week ago and now this…a save the world crusade to blow up gas tanks? No, no — we’re getting on the boat, and we’ll tell them about the Button Eyes and the gas tanks, and they can save the world, maybe they have a cannon or something, but no, you’re staying with us.”

  Jem looks up. “You promised.” She’s not being playful.

  “It’s settled,” Cam says.

  “Fine.” I light a cigarette and watch the boat narrow the gap to the dock. Guardsmen are already lining up near the railing. The guys on the lower deck have machine guns aimed at the Button Eyes. I’m guessing they got a good look through binoculars at what was happening on the dock, who was eating who — enough to be ready.

  “Shoot them in the head!” I shout, pointing at the dock.

  They wave back, pointing first at their heads and then to the end of the gate.

  They’re smiling, maybe they haven’t had a chance to rescue anyone either.

  “That’s razor-wire,” Casey says, and looks to me with a look of accomplishment and apprehension.

  “Fuck me, why did they run razor-wire?” I ask.

  “To keep stupid kids from doing what we’re about to do, duh,” Samantha says, and shakes her head like I’m an idiot.

  Jem steps to the edge and takes Cam’s hand and gently sets her coat over the wire.

  “Right?” she asks.

  “Right,” I say, and the rest of us follow suit, transferring shit from our coats to our pants and bags, before laying our coats down over the razor-wire, creating a temporary walkway.

  “Time for the parade,” Cam says and steps tentatively onto the gate.

  The bridge doesn’t even wiggle, it’s rock solid.

  Halle-fucking-luiah.

  Cam turns and takes Emily, and then Samantha takes Jem.

  I help Pixie down, and she immediately scampers past everyone and doesn’t even slow down as she leaps from the end of the bridge, down the few feet, and into the waiting arms of one of the guardsmen. She takes him to the deck. The men all laugh as Pixie hops around and stares up at us, barking and wagging her tail.

  We laugh too.

  Even Jem turns and smiles.

  It’s happening, it’s finally happening.

  “What about our stuff?” Samantha asks.

  “I’ll grab what I can, but I don’t think we’re going to need it.”

  The men on the lower deck are using long poles to keep the boat from the dock, occasionally shooting any Button Eyes that get too close.

  They’re being super-pro. Maybe they’ve seen this before. I hope not, I hope it’s not that widespread yet.

  I help Holly down and then Casey. They walk in front of me with slow deliberate steps. Casey’s yanked off her beanie again and her white pigtails are bouncing with every step, silhouetted against the ship’s searchlights.

  Cam reaches the end of the gateway and gently lowers Emily to several men, who set her down on the deck. Jem goes next.

  “Hurry up, Lane!” she cries.

  Sam protests up ahead, but Cam picks her up and drops her to the men below.

  Thank you, Cam.

  I can’t hear what she’s screaming at him, but he’s ignoring her as best he can. It’ll be worse later, but she can be as pissed as she wants as long as she’s safe.

  Holly Hawk turns and smiles, ignoring the horde below, their hungry mouths following our every step.

  And then the roar of engines combines with breaking glass.

  Below us, two small, white, farm ATVs fly through the storefront and into the zombie horde. Both of them have huge angled plows on the front, trailing steel cables and canvas banners. They cut through bodies, churning up a fo
untain of blood and gore as they dig a path through the Button Eyes to the river.

  They’re creating a corridor between them.

  At least a hundred people race out of the building after them, shooting the last of the Button Eyes in their way as they try to reach the boat.

  The second ATV swerves for some reason and slams into the gateway, and I can feel the structure shudder.

  I grab Casey and Holly to keep them from falling, but nothing happens for a moment, and then I hear the child-like cry of twisting and bending steel again.

  Shit.

  No!

  I grab Casey around the waist like a football and hold Holly’s hand as we run the last twenty feet.

  “Hurry!” the girls cry from the boat.

  Cam’s waiting for us, ready to leap for the boat.

  The first ATV is going wicked fast and crashes through the last of the Button Eyes as it flies off the dock, slams into the side of the Cutter, the plow gashing the hull before slipping beneath the waves.

  The banners are long and gather on the surface, floating before the cables jerk them under the surface.

  The Cutter begins to pull away from the dock, and then an other-worldly squealing shatters the night, and the lights on the boat flicker and go dark. The boat slows, as if the engines have ground to a halt.

  “Run!” Samantha cries, but it’s too late.

  “Cam, go!” I shout.

  The boat’s momentum is carrying it further from the dock, out into the channel and downstream — not far, but too far for us to jump.

  The moon is barely out behind the thinning clouds, we’re in almost total darkness.

  I stop the kids and grab a flashlight.

  I scream as loud as I can, hoping they can hear. “Sam…Sam, go south, stay close to the river. I’ll find a way, I’ll find you!”

  “Lane!” she screams. “No…Lane!”

  I try to get the girls headed back for the building by the courtyard, but the bridge takes another sickening twist, the buzzing is suddenly like a knife through my skull, flooding my mind with pain, with Pixie, with visions, and I scream as we fall.