Running with the Horde (Book 2): Delusions of Monsters

by Joseph K. Richard

  The zombies smashed into the base of the ladder, jarring Muddy out of his shock. He glanced down into their horrid faces. Mouths snapping like rapid dogs. Eyes milky red yet somehow eager. He waited for them to start climbing but they didn’t. Evidently they had lost some problem solving abilities during the transition. He shuddered as he climbed the rest of the way to the catwalk.

  Geoff was gone and there was very little room to pass without risking a fall so Muddy uttered a silent prayer and pushed the man’s body over the edge, cringing as the zombies accepted their prize. Ez and Dana had pulled Brian up from the edge. The three of them stood with their backs to the cement wall panting as they tried to calm down. Brian was also sobbing which made sense. He had nearly died a horrific death. A few minutes prior they had been fourteen strong and now they were down to four.

  “What do we do now?” Ezra shouted to be heard over the zombies below.

  “We are going to have to jump out that window,” Muddy said.

  “I’m never going to fit through that!” Ezra exclaimed.

  “As you can see we have no alternative exit options. You will go through. I will see to it.”

  “What about the drop?” Dana asked.

  “Better a broken leg than a zombie buffet,” Muddy said. “Now let’s get to it.

  Dana was closest so she got to the window first and used the butt of her empty rife to reach up and knock out the safety glass. Brian boosted her up so she could maneuver out feet first. She wriggled herself through until only her head and torso were visible. “Here goes nothing,” she said with a weak smile. Then she was gone, her scream lost to the noise below.

  Brian was next. Ezra assisted him from below until he angled his feet out the window, turned on his belly and disappeared from view with a muffled shout.

  “Okay, big fella, it’s your turn,” Muddy told.

  “C’mon, Martin, let me just help you through,” Ezra said.

  “Call me Mr. President and shut the hell up. You are going first and I’ll be right behind you,” Muddy replied. They stood back to back on the small catwalk with their elbows interlocked. Muddy braced his knees against the safety rail to provide extra leverage allowing Ezra to walk up the cement wall so he could jump feet first.

  His feet were almost at the window when Muddy felt the entire catwalk begin to move away from the wall. Ezra froze with his feet just below the window. Muddy started shaking with the strain of the larger man’s weight.

  “Don’t stop,” he wheezed as the platform moved a little further from the wall with a laborious groan. The zombies below reached up in anticipation of their meal. He felt Ezra move higher so Muddy gave one last major push. The catwalk moved a full two feet away from the wall and was in the process of falling over completely. Muddy was balancing on the edge as Ezra wrangled himself through and disappeared from window.

  He couldn’t hear anything as time seemed to slow down. His only chance was to go for the tiny window ledge. He squatted and jumped with everything he had. The force of his jump toppling the catwalk into the crowd below with a fantastic clatter. Through some stroke of luck he made the window ledge by the tips of his fingers. His body hammered into the cement wall sending a wave of pain through his cuts and bruises yet somehow he hung on.

  The cement window ledge had been painted at some point creating a surface unsuitable for supporting a full grown man by his fingertips. His sweaty palms weren’t helping matters. A minute went by and then two before he felt himself start to slip. He whispered an urgent prayer with his heart pounding out of his chest. He was going to fall.

  Then there was a moment. A millisecond of time when he transitioned from panic to a tranquility he had never experienced before. Death had arrived and it was time to go. He closed his eyes, happy for the first time in years and let go of the ledge.

  But he didn’t fall. Something had grabbed him around the wrist. Muddy opened his eyes to see Ezra staring down at him with a grim look on his face.

  “How?” Muddy croaked as Ezra pulled him up.

  “Torrey found a ladder,” Ezra explained between grunts.

  “He’s alive?” Muddy asked as Ezra manhandled him through the window.

  “See for yourself.”

  The two men did an awkward balancing act so they didn’t fall while they angled out of the window. Muddy looked down to see a grinning Torrey looking up at him from the base of the ladder. He was covered in bloody gore and looked positively deranged. Brian stood next to him helping support the ladder while Dana waited off to the side. It looked like she had hurt herself in the fall.

  The tranquility still hadn’t left Muddy. He had accepted his fate whatever it was. Apparently his role in this play wasn’t finished yet. The cold wind threatened to rip him off the ladder as he made his way down. Nothing had ever felt so good.

  When his feet hit the pavement Muddy took a moment to look around. It was quiet on the grounds. Almost peaceful like a graveyard on a snowless winter Sunday.

  Ezra stood panting with his hands on his hips while Brian and Torrey got Dana to her feet.

  “What do we do now, chief,” Ezra asked him.

  “Now we go see a man about a plane.” Muddy said, “Y’all think it’s cold here? Wait til we get to Minneapolis.”

  Chapter 29: A Hot Cup of Coffee

  The Present

  Richard turned out to be the de facto leader of the small group of survivors but he wasn’t leading our journey underneath the city. He wasn’t from Minneapolis. He had only been visiting his children when the city went into lockdown. So it was Donny that led us via flashlight through a warren of dark hallways below the downtown buildings.

  I was focused on the small cone of light bobbing in Donny’s hands. I kept one hand on his back to keep myself steady. The Luger was in the other. Ahead of me in strobe like moments of frozen clarity, large rats held shocked poses before scurrying away with a squeal. Behind me were Richard and the rest of the group, mostly silent save for the shuffle of feet and a few muted curses.

  It was cold down there but still my eyes burned as sweat dripped into them from my soaking hat. We traversed block after city block in the damp chill. The excitement from the tunnels and the escapade with Wendy’s husband was catching up to me. Either gravity had increased or I was about to crash. I was about to beg Donny for a rest when he decided to stop abruptly of his own accord. The scene would have been funny if it hadn’t been hidden in the dark. I plowed into Donny and the entire group behind us followed suit with a collective grunt. The curses went from muted to outrage as people picked themselves off the ground.

  “Hush,” Donny shouted in a loud whisper, “We’re near the door.”

  Aside from some heavy breathing and coughing, everyone complied. The beam of light illuminated a set of cement stairs leading up one flight to a door marked Cooke street level and another flight leading higher to a second door. I couldn’t read the writing on that door but assumed it was the entrance to the skyway level. The top door had an exit sign above it still emitting a soft red glow.

  “Okay, listen up,” Richard said to the huddled group, the light now flashing off of several sets of terrified eyes. “George, Donny and I are going up the stairs to the skyway level to check it out. If it looks safe, we will signal everyone to come up. If not, get ready to run like hell back the way we came. Donny, led us on.”

  Up the stairs we went, Donny taking them one at a time like he was stepping on eggs. We stopped at the first landing and listened for a while at the street level. We could hear nothing coming from the Cooke Building on the other side. The next flight of stairs was even more halting. We repeated the same exercise, three ears pinned to the heavy steel door straining to hear the soldiers we knew had to be waiting for us on the other side.

  There were no voices but I thought I heard something. “Do you guys hear music?” I asked. The glow from the exit sign painting both Richard and Donny with a ghoulish red hue.

  Richard said, “I don’t hear an
ything.”

  “Maybe I hear something,” Donny said straining, “Could be music, I guess. Something instrumental?”

  “Could it be muzak?” I asked. They both looked at me like I was stupid. The moments slipped by with us still listening at the door to the faint tune of an alto saxophone.

  “Well?” Donny said, looking from me to Richard.

  I tried remembering what I could about the Cooke Building. There were a few banks, a convenient store, some restaurants and maybe a coffee shop. Richard seemed to be frozen in indecision. He had clearly been through a few rough moments in the city.

  I closed my eyes and scanned for zombies and couldn’t sense any. “I’m going out there,” I said. “We aren’t going to accomplish anything down here and I have a girlfriend to rescue.”

  “We’ve tried coming up for food a few times and these doors were always secured from the other side. Gonna have to break the lock,” Donny said taking a step back from the door. “Probably shoot it or something.”

  “I’ll do it,” Richard said and took aim with the pistol I’d given him.

  “Just wait,” I said and pushed on the bar. The door opened easily under my touch. Bright electric light and warm air assaulted our faces. All three of us stumbled away in shock and the door shut us into near darkness again.

  “I guess it’s not locked anymore,” Donny said.

  “Pretty weird coincidence. It could be a trap. A way to finally roust us out and then they mow us down like sitting ducks,” Richard said.

  “Let’s say it is a trap. Every time they engaged your group before you were unarmed. Now we have a machine gun and two pistols. We can give them a hell of a surprise.”

  Neither man would look me in the eyes. It would seem the last thing they wanted was a gunfight. I couldn’t blame them but we were kind of at a crossroads. “Look, fellas, I’m not blind. Your group is in rough shape. I’m talking last legs rough shape. I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. Rat meat and sewer water will do that to anyone. But listen, no one is coming to save you or your friends down there. I’m your last best chance at survival. So are you with me or not?”

  Donny looked at Richard. The older man looked tired and depressed but gave the slightest nod to Donny who said, “We’re with you.”

  “Good! Let’s go over the game plan,” I said.

  Two minutes later Richard, Donny and I were tensed up and ready to go. I would plow through the door and roll to the other side while Richard and Donny followed me out to the left and the right.

  “Remember,” I whispered, “Most plans go to shit just as soon as you try to execute them so be ready for anything. We go on the count of three. One-two-three!” I smashed into the door. It flew open with a bang as I dove into the hallway. My barrel roll with the tommy-gun in hand was awkward at best. I was lucky I didn’t blow my own head off. I did manage to knock the wind out of myself and smash the hell out of my shins. I sat up gasping as Donny and Richard came through.

  The skyway was well-lit but empty. Muzak played in hidden speakers, sounded like What a Wonderful World.

  “That was quite a move, George,” said Richard with a dry chuckle. “Which branch of the military did you serve in? No, don’t answer, with training like that it had to have been Special Forces. Probably classified I imagine.”

  That was kind of a shitty thing to say but I ignored it and got to my feet. The warmth and the light felt alien on my skin after being in the cold for such a long time. I could tell the others felt the same as we took in our surroundings like a group of shell-shocked cavemen seeing fire for the first time. Our door had opened in the middle of a tee-shaped intersection in the Cooke Building skyway.

  Directly in front of me was a store that sold paintings. The proprietor would wheel carts out each morning to advertise his prints. Customers could flip through them like a giant picture book. The store was dark and locked up tight but the carts of prints were still in the skyway, like the owner left in a big hurry. The prints were untouched which made sense given the current state of affairs in the world.

  We floated past the art store and several other establishments. All of them shuttered up tight. The stores and places that sold food looked empty. The skyway was dirty and some windows were broken but overall it appeared someone had pressed pause just after all the bad shit started. I stepped over small piles of garbage and other more disgusting signs of human habitation but we didn’t see any people.

  “Smells like shit in here,” Richard muttered as we turned a corner.

  “I think that is shit,” Donny said, pointing to a suspicious brown pile near a smashed up ATM.

  “Hold up, guys,” I said softly. They froze when they spotted the coffee shop at the far end of the skyway.

  It was open.

  We moved forward as a leery trio. Thoughts of zombies and armed soldiers were instantly forgotten in pursuit of this vision which almost certainly had to be a mirage. “Should we go back for the others?” Donny asked.

  “We need to make sure it’s not a set-up first,” Richard replied. “Then we can go get them.”

  We stopped about fifty feet shy of the coffee shop. I could see it did indeed appear to be open. There were at least two people inside and both seemed to be wearing the uniform.

  “George and I will check it out,” Richard said. “Donny you hang back in case there is trouble. If this goes bad you can try bailing us out or head back to the basement with the others. Let’s go, George.”

  Somehow the man had assumed leadership of me which set off a string of unpleasant thoughts in my head but I said nothing other than okay. We moved quickly towards the shop which was also located in the middle of a junction in the skyway.

  “You check left and I’ll check right,” I insisted as I ran to look down the right-hand corridor. I didn’t wait to see if he was annoyed at my order but I assumed he was. My way was clear, just more restaurants and shuttered banks. I looked over to Richard’s side which was also devoid of people. He moved from the corner up a short flight of stairs to get a better look into the Crystal Court of the Investor Tower. It looked for a moment like he was going to keep going.

  “Richard,” I called. He glanced back at me with an angry look on his face. “What’s going on? Do you see something down there?”

  “What? No. Just a sound. I think it was a rat.” Richard called back.

  “Probably was,” said a bored new voice from my right.

  “Goddammit!” I shouted and wheeled around with my gun to face the new threat.

  “Dude, relax!” the guy said throwing his hands into the air, “I didn’t mean to startle you. I thought you saw us already. You won’t find any people out there. Everyone is gone or hiding. You might as well come in and get some coffee.”

  I followed him into the coffee shop but I was still pointing the tommy-gun at his back. I had already learned the hard way, trust was earned not given. The other person in the store was sitting at a table nursing a cup of coffee in a paper cup with a sad expression on her face.

  “That’s Happy,” the guy said, gesturing towards the girl at the table.

  “That’s not my name, Parker!” she said with a pout.

  “As far as I am concerned it is,” Parker said as he slipped under an open section of the countertop. He grabbed two large paper cups and started pouring coffee into them. “That’s one of my things. I give nicknames to people that are opposite of how they really are. You, for example, I would probably call Mr. Clean.”

  I nodded, “Because of my hair and beard or because I smell?”

  “Bingo,” he said cheerfully.

  “Pretty clever,” I said. I took the cup of coffee he offered. The cup has hot and the coffee was scalding. The aroma was miraculous. “Thank you,” I told him as I took a tiny sip. Richard finally made it into the store. He took his cup and eyeballed it but didn’t take a sip.

  “If it was poisoned Mr. Clean would already be dead,” Parker said with a grin.

  That gave
me pause but nothing was going to keep me from drinking that coffee. It had been far too long since my last fresh cup. I took a seat near Happy while Richard continued studying Parker like he was a fly on the end of a pin.

  Richard had signaled Donny from down the hall. He walked in cautiously but with a look of pure optimism of his face. Parker poured him a cup of coffee from the same large pot. Donny cradled the cup in his hands like he’d just received water from the Fountain of Youth.

  “Take your coffee and go get the others,” Richard said to Donny. “Keep your eyes peeled. We still have no idea what’s going on up here. Mister, you better put on another pot. We’ve got more in our group and they are thirsty.”

  “No problem,” Parker said.

  “So what’s the deal here, kid?” I said quietly to Happy.

  “My name is Brooke,” she said, looking up at me for the first time. She pushed her hair out her face revealing sad brown eyes.

  “Okay, Brooke,” I said as I took the seat across from her. “Why is this place open?”

  “We’ve been waiting for you,” she said as she slid a piece of paper in front of me. It was one of the fliers with my picture on it.

  “Ugh,” I said as I looked at the information.

  “Are you really a terrorist?” Brooke asked.

  “Look around, Brooke, I had a desk job before all this started. You really think one average Joe could do all this?” I replied.

  “I worked in resource analytics for a big company just a few blocks from here,” Parker said as he sat down next to Brooke. “Now I make coffee twenty-four hours a day in a mostly abandoned city. Funny how things change. Just goes to show you anything is possible.”

  “So you’re here all the time?” Richard asked from over my shoulder.